The best way of doing that?
Prison.
I happened to know the right people behind bars who would help him understand abusing women wasn’t acceptable.
“I hate to say it, wildcat. But you’re right.” I dropped him, taking a step away. “She’s right. You’re going to prison, Zane.”
Even with a swollen, bloodied lip, he managed to laugh while struggling to stand. “You have nothing on me and I assure you I have an excellent team of attorneys.”
“Is that right? Including Greg Franklin?”
As soon as I tossed out the name, he was suddenly stricken by silence.
“Yes, let’s just say he turned state’s evidence.” I nodded toward my men holding weapons. They responded by opening the entrance door. Four of New Orleans’ finest walked in. “You see, Greg is an old buddy of mine who happened to come to his senses. He’s the one who provided my lovely bride to be with those juicy photographs.”
When I glanced toward the officers, they nodded. “You came in loud and clear, Ms. Samuels, on the recording.” It was so good to have police officers who owed me a favor or two.
“You see, Zane. In addition to the evidence Greg collected, there’s Josette’s recording. You and the Brotherhood are going down.”
I didn’t waste any additional time, allowing the boys in blue to do their job while I headed to the beautiful woman still holding her own in front of the man who’d viciously attacked her.
As I cupped her face, she rubbed my arms, taking several deep breaths. “Is there where you’re going to tell me you have something to do and won’t be home until later?”
Home.
She had no idea how much I enjoyed hearing the word. “Something like that.”
“Should I wait up?”
Laughing, I pressed my thumb into her mouth, forcing her to suck. “Absolutely. And you know what will happen if you don’t. You will be punished.”
After sucking for a few seconds, she pushed my hand away. “As I told you before, I’m not sure I’d mind.”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The three men who’d been assigned to watch the front of the building had been easy pickings. We had other soldiers walkingthe grounds, handling the other four. Santos appeared nervous, protective of the meeting at Greg’s office.
I couldn’t blame him.
There were dangerous men everywhere.
“There’s a party going on at our warehouse and we weren’t invited,” Alexander said as he matched my stride while we headed into Greg’s office building. He chuckled as he shoved his phone into his pocket.
Our soldiers rushed into the empty lobby, heading for the stairs.
“How many arrived at the party?”
“Twenty. It would seem Santos is nervous.”
I laughed and pressed the button for the elevator. “He should be. And Texas?”
“Just waiting for my call.” He leaned against the elevator wall. “How do you want to play this?”
Alexander was my brother, but that came after being my Don. It was something that I’d known from a young age. He was firstborn and would lead and I was perfectly content with that.
Every family had a hierarchy, often as a result of someone taking the lead because others refused. That wasn’t the case with crime syndicates. We were brought up a certain way, our beliefs entrenched in generations of knowledge and training, in expectations and required loyalty.
Not once had I challenged my place on the food chain.
