Broken by His Hand - Piper Stone Page 0,20

life, as well as that of his family was in jeopardy. I wouldn’t put it past him to ensure that disclosure of the most damning information was handled when he thought appropriate.” I thought about the frank conversations I’d had with our father early on when he was in the throes of gaining power. My brothers had been far too young to be a part of the dark world my grandfather had created, but the stories were ones I’d never forget.

Ugly.

Brutal.

And for him... joyous.

“This is about the time you confess our father’s sins, brother.” Gregory locked eyes with mine after he spoke. “If you think the shit is going to hit the fan, we deserve to know what we’re dealing with.”

While my brother was correct, I’d reserved handling the dirty deed until I was certain it was necessary. “And we will talk, Greg. If the prince has also become a part of this, there is a new wave of enemies prepared to attack.”

“I don’t buy it’s the prince, Michael, unless he’s throwing a tantrum about not being allowed to join the club.” Christopher’s words were still filled with anger.

“You forget, dear brother. Prince Abdar’s father was a regular once upon a time as well as a good friend of a past president. I can only imagine what stories he had to tell. While I’m inclined to believe Prince Abdar Amoundi is angry, perhaps willing to issue threats, it remains to be seen if he is determined to make good on them. As far as the ledger, I will find it one way or the other.”

“Why does this feel like an elaborate game?” Christopher asked.

“From what I remember, our father enjoyed playing games, parlaying his knack at keeping a poker face into millions of dollars. Of course this is a game. Imagine if anyone else got their hands on the ledger.” Gregory allowed the words to hang as he glanced from one of us to the other.

Snickering, I nodded. “Yes, imagine. The elite status within the powerful world of the District of Columbia will crumble.”

The look on Christopher’s face was one of frustration as well as anger. “Why don’t I state the obvious? If anyone gets their hands on our father’s fucking ledger, we are dead men and anyone we care about will be as well.”

The obvious had been weighing on my mind for quite some time. My thoughts drifted to the last conversation I’d had with our father. Richard Dunmore had been no fool. He’d made certain I was aware of various obstacles with regards to the club. He’d provided information that had sounded more like a living will than a basic operational plan.

As if he’d known his life was in jeopardy.

Up until that day, I hadn’t fully embraced just how valuable the information he and my grandfather had secured over the years truly was.

And it had scared the fuck out of me.

“You are truly my son, Michael, in every way,” my father said after two full minutes of silence.

“You have two other sons, Pops. They also adore you.”

He tilted his head slightly, a wry smile crossing his face. “They take after your mother in almost every regard. They’re soft, far too much so to handle running the club themselves. Don’t get me wrong. I adore your mother. If it wasn’t for her, I think I would have found myself in prison or much worse, but Gracie coddled them. Maybe because I gave her no choice since I spent all my time in the club.”

“They’re stronger than you think they are,” I countered.

As he turned to face me, the expression on his face was stern. He opened his desk drawer, pulling out a large envelope. “I never questioned your grandfather about what he was doing with the club. Times were tough for him growing up. His parents had no money, barely any way to make ends meet. He hitched up his bootstraps and made something for himself. He also hated what was happening in his beloved city of DC.”

I remained quiet, curious as to where this was going. My father never spoke about the past, at least not in any detail. My mother refused to allow any conversations regarding the club to be held in front of my brothers or at family gatherings.

“Make no mistake. The club is viable on every level, but the enemies my father amassed make owning it exactly like playing Russian roulette.”

“Why would anyone maintain their membership, let alone why are so many desperate to join?”