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Prologue
Myra Rutledge was considered one of the most powerful, enigmatic women in business. CEO of a world-famous candy company, Myra had it all. That was until the day her pregnant daughter was killed by a hit-and-run driver. The pain of that loss was almost unbearable, but when the driver escaped justice due to diplomatic immunity, Myra began a downward spiral into an emotional abyss. She spent most days in her nightgown in a semicatatonic state. Not even her life companion, Charles, could coax any semblance of a spark from her. He genuinely thought she was going to die of a broken heart.
One morning, as Myra stared blankly at the television, she snapped to attention. “Charles! Hand me the remote!” she shouted. Stunned by this sudden outburst, he ran to her side and delivered the device. She immediately turned up the volume.
“What is it?” Charles asked with sincere concern.
Myra waved him off. “Shush!” She leaned forward to get a closer look at what was being broadcast. It was another story of failed justice, but the real story began when the mother of the victim shot the perpetrator as he left the courtroom. A puzzled Charles did a double take at the TV but kept himself from asking his question again. He had an idea of what was going through Myra’s head and knew she would tell him when she was ready.
Myra then asked for the phone and called her adopted daughter Nikki, a very high-profile lawyer. Nikki was also shocked at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Mom! Are you okay?” Nikki didn’t know what to make of this resurrection.
“Sweetheart. Have you seen the news?”
“Which part?” Nikki asked.
Myra began to recall what she had just witnessed and ended the explanation with, “I want you to represent that woman.”
And so, it began. The Sisterhood.
Over the next few months Myra and Nikki scoured the national news to find other women who’d been failed by the system. One by one, each had her turn at handing out the justice deserved. Now it had become Myra’s life’s work to use her resources and the many talents of the women she had helped—not to fix a miserably broken system, but to correct its mistakes . . . in her own way.
Charles remained Myra’s confidant, husband and bodyguard. He utilized his formidable skills as an ex-MI6 officer surreptitiously. Myra’s childhood friend Countess Anna Ryland de Silva was her equal in wealth and spirit. She lived on an estate next door to Myra’s home at Pinewood with Fergus, the former head of Scotland Yard. Anna—who went by Annie—also owned the Post in Washington, D.C., one of the largest newspapers in the country.
Myra’s century-old farm, Pinewood, sat atop several tunnels once used by the Underground Railroad. Charles and Fergus furnished the subterranean hideaway, making it into a well-appointed headquarters, equipping the space with the most elaborate state-of-the-art technology. They referred to it as the “war room,” but by any definition it rivaled something used by the Pentagon.
Handpicked by Myra, Nikki, and Anna, the “Sisters” came from a broad range of lifestyles, from an eighteen-wheeler truck driver to a floral designer, a journalist with a nose for a story, and an architect with a talent for computer hacking. While on the surface they had little or nothing in common, they shared the same determination to take control of their lives and right a few wrongs.
When not involved in one of their campaigns, the Sisters continued to lead their own busy, complicated lives complete with the usual family drama, tested relationships, and normal career challenges. They just happened to have a hobby—conspiring and conducting elaborate plans that led to the well-deserved downfall of the people who heinously crossed them and society.
This is their thirty-fifth mission.
Chapter One
Izzie and Yoko
Isabelle “Izzie” Flanders was going over a set blueprints for a new market village. She and Yoko had won the bid on a project being funded by the local commerce commission. It was going to be the centerpiece of this quaint Virginia town, and the project would require tons and tons of commercial materials. Izzie and Yoko had spent months gathering quotes, designing and redesigning the layout. Now they finally had something they knew would be accomplished with the best materials and workmanship.
Izzie was lost in thought when her phone rang. “This is Izzie.” Her brow furrowed as she listened. “For how long?” She stood erect. “Do you know when you will have an answer?” She pursed her lips. “I see. Uh-huh.” She listened as panic crawled up her spine. “Thank you for letting us know.” She set herself and the phone down simultaneously. She shut her eyes and began tapping her fingers on the long plank worktable. The phone call had not been good news.
Yoko glided into the office carrying samples of potted plants. “Izzie. Look at these! I think they will look fantastic in the planters outside the windows.” She stopped abruptly when she saw the look on Izzie’s face. She quickly set the large box on a side table. “What’s wrong?” Yoko could tell by Izzie’s expression it was more than getting the wrong coffee at the café.
“I just got a call from the general contractor.” Izzie looked up.
“What about?” Yoko took a seat in front of her.
“He said the subcontractor who is going to handle the masonry work is having supply chain issues.”
“Seriously? Still?” Yoko shook her head. “It seems like it’s been years already.”
“There are still a lot of goods in transit. He said in some cases there’s a backlog of eighteen months, depending on what country they’re coming from.” She sighed. “The good news is that when it all arrives, there will be a lot of merchandise in the stores, so there will probably be a lot of things on sale.”
Yoko tried to make light of the situation. “Oh yes! They’ll have bathing suits on sale at Christmas, and Christmas trees on sale in April.”
Izzie snorted. “Swell. Thanks for putting a positive spin on it.” Izzie propped herself up on her elbows, her face supported by her fists. “We planned to break ground in a month.” She let out a big sigh.
Yoko sat silently for a minute. “There has to be someone else who could do the work, no?”
“I suppose, but they might be having the same issues. Plus, it may cost us a lot more than we put in the budget.” Izzie was no shrinking violet, but at that moment she thought she might cry.
