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The last two weeks have been chaotic. Despite telling the Elite Members that I was on hiatus, they each reached out until I agreed to assist in finding whoever was threatening DeLeon. Each made points that I couldn’t ignore. He, of course, wasn’t any help. Which is why I can’t say that I feel bad about failing an assignment.
DeLeon is dead, and the world is better off.
Except that creates a big problem for me. One I didn’t plan on having to deal with for at least ten more years.
Brooks nudges my side and mutters, “Stand up, fucker.”
I rise to my feet as DeLeon’s family makes their way out of the church. Thankfully, we’re not required to go to the graveside service. Unfortunately, something much more unpleasant is about to occur.
Once it’s socially acceptable, Brooks and I make our way outside. The Texas heat and humidity makes my suit cling to my skin, but my misery is short-lived as I slide into my waiting SUV. Brooks gets in next to me and we’re off. He’s silent, looking out the window, so I do the same, letting myself get lost in my thoughts.
Forty-eight hours ago, I was working in my office when my assistant buzzed my direct line. She said a letter had been dropped off, and that it looked important. Unease had filled my gut, but I didn’t jump to conclusions. Not until I saw the cream envelope with a red wax seal.
I told her to cancel the rest of my meetings and reached for the envelope before she had even left. The first thought I had was that it was ironic that the Brotherhood was sending such an important message in such a cliché method. A text would have been a lot faster and a hell of a lot more secure.
I waited a beat longer before grabbing the silver blade sitting on top of my desk, slicing through the top and pulling out the letter written by hand on equally thick paper.
Moretti,
Elite Member DeLeon has perished, leaving his spot on the council vacant. Services will be held on Thursday, and you are required to attend. Your induction ceremony will be held after, welcoming you as our newest council member.
Sincerely,
The Defiant God Brotherhood
The paper crumpled in my grasp.
Fuck.
DeLeon was dead.
Blinking, I realize we’re almost at the estate owned by the Brotherhood. The paved road winds through the massive property, leading us far from prying eyes. Foolish men have tried to get a closer look over the years. None lived to tell their tales.
The mansion comes into view and a heavy knot settles deep in my stomach.
Brooks turns to me. “How are you doing, man?”
“I go back and forth.”
“I imagine.” There’s a pause. “I have to ask. Was it you?”
“Funny. I was going to ask you the same.”
“You know it wasn’t me. I wasn’t a fan of DeLeon, but I didn’t want him dead. Did you notice Grant wasn’t at the funeral?”
I bark out a laugh. “He’s hard to reach these days.”
“And yet I imagine he, too, got a letter. He always did think he was above the rules.”
“Not arguing with you there. I bet he shows to the induction.”
“You think?”
I say, “I do. He’s campaigning, and all the donors he needs will be in that room.”
That includes me now. As an Elite Member, he’ll want to count on my vote in the upcoming election.
“Have the Elite Members told you what to expect?”
