Emmeline
The powerful Italian’s last words had been to stay in the room. He hadn’t been kind about it either.
At first, I’d awakened early in the morning, reaching across the sheets in hopes of curling up next to him. That side of the bed had been empty.
With the only light a stream of moonlight coming in through the open doors, I’d caught sight of him keeping watch over me in the single chair. I’d noticed the weapon on the table. He must have heard me rustling under the sheets but had said nothing.
I’d also noticed that when we’d made love in the bathtub, his mind had taken him elsewhere. I’d caught a portion of the look on his face. He’d been lost in a horrific memory and given what we were dealing with, I’d say it was all about the murders of his parents.
That’s why when he’d left, I’d taken the time to try to find out anything I could about family. I’d found nothing. Not one thing.I’d need to ask Donatello, although I doubted he wanted to tell me anything at this point. He’d moved on. That was the kind of man he was.
His worry about keeping me safe was admirable but becoming somewhat out of hand.
Now he was outside, animated in his conversations. The cramped space was beginning to feel just that, very cramped.
At least he’d brought back coffee and pastries with him.
Donatello had been on the phone since returning. I’d overheard a few of the calls, including those made to one of the hackers on the payroll. Between the man and his father, they had more talent than an entire building full of computer experts.
He was searching for information about the Brotherhood, including how far reaching their organizations were within Italy.
As he’d already told me, Alexander would have no issue using his alliance with the Cosa Nostra if it meant drawing out the major players of the fraternity-like organization.
While Donatello had been pacing either the room or the small patio, I’d been making a few notes of my own, most with questions attached.
Had Peter Kendall been of any importance or simply a name found on the internet?
Were there any connections either in rumors or directly between the Cosa Nostra and the Brotherhood?
Who were the Los Bartas Cartel in connection to the Texas Bikers, the Los Riveras who’d been hired and many lured to their deaths by the Brotherhood? For kicks and giggles, I’d evenwritten down the last few people I’d come in contact with during the past two weeks or so, including the speed date I’d almost gone on. Sadly, I’d found only superficial information on Mr. Carmichael, but what I had discovered checked out with what little he’d told me.
I kept going back to the same people who’d harassed Josette. Harassed was a mild word for how they’d tried to ruin her life, including forcing her to marry a horrible man. There had to be a direct connection to the magazine in Savannah and her family.
At this point, there were no real answers, although I kept coming back to the Brotherhood. Their power and wealth had taken a hit when Alexander had drawn them out. Then they’d disappeared. Well, mostly. Their connections were still there, shown proudly in their affiliation with a few select alma mater and through the corporate partnerships hundreds of them maintained.
They were like a huge fraternity, which had initially amused the hell out of me. Until I’d delved in deeper, discovering their breadth of power.
While dangerous, what they’d done in tormenting Josette from an early age then following her path when she’d escaped her stepbrother’s tyranny had driven their methods into another category. I knew Alexander was well aware that of all the enemies we’d encountered over the years from two different Bratva to the Irish, the Italians to cartels, the Brotherhood were the people he should be most concerned about.
They had wide-reaching tentacles and even without having access to their bank accounts, more money than God it would seem.
When I noticed Donatello was finally off the phone, even smiling as if completing a successful mission, I shifted through my notes, realizing I’d written down several pages of them. Maybe they’d help in trying to determine who’d wanted Donatello dead, who’d wanted my pictures taken, and why someone had threatened the business in Miami.
Maybe the person responsible wanted us split apart as a family, including many of our resources.
In order for us to head back to the States without difficulty given our passport situation, Alexander had to bring the second family jet, either requiring Sinclair and Montgomery to fly home on a commercial plane or to stay in Miami for the time being.
Donatello approached the bed, snagging the page of notes from my hand. “Whatcha been working on?”
“Stuff. Hey, has anyone talked to Josette about the Brotherhood lately?”
Only after he flipped through the pages did he lift his head. “I don’t have that answer. Not a bad idea, except I know the subject is a sore one.”
“What about her mother?”
His brows knitted together. Josie’s mother had remarried a man high up in the Brotherhood. While Josie had ended up hating her mom for the treatment received, they’d reconciled well over a year before. As far as how much contact they still had, that I wouldn’t know. However, her mother might know a few secrets and wouldn’t mind getting back at the fuckers after the divorce.
“Good thought. Very good thought. I might need to keep you around,” he told me. “Speaking of which. Get your purse. We’re going for a little drive.”
