Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

B raxton

For all the places in the world I hated, DC was perhaps the only city I loathed being in.

The traffic.

The crowds.

The pontificating assholes running the government.

I didn’t give a shit who was running the country. I had little tolerance for the pomp and circumstance. I knew it far too well.

However, I’d resigned myself to being a part of the solution to the problem we were facing. Problem. We could be facing disaster if we didn’t handle the situation correctly. Plus, if the lovely little koala was here, I planned on grilling her as to her involvement in whatever scheme was being played.

If that’s what it was.

From what Valerio had shared, he hadn’t been able to determine if our father had used any of the information he’d kept hidden up until his death. If he had, or was in the process before his murder, there could be a handful of people out to ensure the data didn’t get into the wrong hands.

So, here I was, dressed like some fucking penguin attending a soirée that I had no interest in. Sure, I adored animals and would gladly give a hefty donation, but spending the night pretending I could tolerate arrogant people who thought their shit didn’t stink wasn’t tops on my agenda under the best of circumstances.

Even if there were those who said that about the Royal brothers.

I entered the hotel, marveling at the closeness to the White House.

What I’d learned from Gage was that everyone who was anyone had cajoled their way into an invitation. It would seem charity was huge in this town, providing a glowing view of corrupt men and women who pretended they were royalty. I had my checkbook ready and was eager to get the night over with. If Jasmine was here, I wasn’t entirely certain what I wanted to say to her.

A part of me longed to take her as my prisoner, teaching her more than a single lesson in obedience. The other, somewhat rational man inside me knew creating an international incident certainly wouldn’t bode well for the FTC attempting to scour through our books. Their interference was tedious anyway. While they had a love-hate relationship with the FBI, they’d been known to use the weight of the law enforcement agency to get what they wanted. In our case, it was yet to be determined if they hoped to bring criminal charges.

I continued to question in my mind whether someone had put them up to hassling us. Perhaps Secretary Bishop. Still, that seemed farfetched after all this time. Why bother? Unless Valerio wasn’t being completely truthful, or our father had been smart enough to have his personal attorney release threats and some information like a time capsule.

There was no evidence of that either, or reporters would be foaming at the mouth. We certainly didn’t appreciate being in the middle of some scheme, including possibly one our father had started.

As I headed through the marble lobby toward the bank of private elevators, I could tell all the trust fund kiddos were here as well, maybe headed to the well-known dance club. By the time I made it to the bank of elevators, I could hear the booming noise coming from the club. A posh hotel with one of the sexiest and hottest clubs in the city.

Things had changed since I was in my twenties.

I’d been given a special card to use on the steel box, which allowed me to head to the top floor where the festivities were taking place. The moment I was in the expansive carpeted hallway, I sensed the party was in full swing.

And it was only ten at night.

While I hungered to find my little koala, the real business of the night came first. I headed into the main section where the bars and dance floor were located as well as the small podium set up for whatever announcements would be made. I was well known in the city, my picture appearing in several national magazines yet as I walked through the crowd, I gathered a sense of disdain.

As if I didn’t belong here.

The arrogant looks I was receiving amused the hell out of me. I certainly didn’t need any politician’s approval.

I sauntered up to the bar, only the second in line. At least the wait wouldn’t be long. A drink was necessary on a night like this.

“Yes, sir?”

“Macallan scotch, neat.”

The young man opened his eyes as if fearful telling me it was a liquor they didn’t have would incense me. I knew the game well and pulled out my wallet, yanking out a fifty. As soon as I handed it to him, his eyes lit up. “Coming right up, sir. We have a private stash.”

“I’m sure you do.” I scanned the room as he poured, the young man wasting no time in doing so.

“Come back any time.”

“I will. Thank you.” I took my glass without the cocktail napkin and headed into the thickest part of the crowd. I’d been provided with as much information on Jameson Bishop as Gage had been able to dig up. It was interesting to me that for the most part, the powerful man kept his nose clean, at least to those outside his main core of friends.

And he had at least a dozen of some of the most influential buddies in the city.

How interesting it included someone from the FTC. Was I developing a conspiracy theory? Maybe. In the glory years, our father’s media company had provided less than glowing programs highlighting corrupt, powerful people. I’d always found that funny given how ruthless Pops was. He’d crossed that line more than once.

It would seem Mr. Bishop was fairly popular, adored by his wife and two children, and had enjoyed all the perks provided to a man of such a distinguished career.

My father had made notes on how Jameson was a corrupt beast who enjoyed using and destroying people. Some I recognized from the documentaries, but others were no one I knew. I had a feeling that was the tip of the iceberg regarding what Jameson had done or was capable of.

As I moved through the party, I was forced to greet a few people who’d insisted I have a word or two with them.

“We need your services, Valerio.” I recognized the guy, although I wasn’t certain where from.

“It’s Braxton and I’ll be happy to give you my card.” My older brother and I looked nothing alike yet people often mistook us for each other.

He was drunk, not embarrassed, almost dropping the card twice before managing to slide it into his pocket. I certainly had no intention of giving him my private cellphone number. Almost no one had that.

The man was still blubbering about something as I moved on, nodding toward a couple of beautiful women in the crowd. While both were lovely and obviously interested, I wasn’t here to gather additional arm candy.

I continued meandering through the massive room, exiting and heading to one of the smaller ones. It was only a few seconds before I caught a glimpse of Mr. Bishop holding court with several people, most of whom I didn’t recognize. As I moved closer, he didn’t seem to notice my approach, holding a glass of amber liquid as he spouted off about the need for additional animal rescues.

How admirable of him.

He didn’t own a pet and as far as I’d been able to ascertain, he never had.

However, I listened, mildly amused as well as annoyed. The small crowd was eating up his speech as if he was a god.

“Now, pull out those checkbooks. Minimum ten thousand dollars, y’all.”

Y’all? It was the first time I’d noticed a slight twang. He was from Virginia but with the influx of people from the north the last couple of decades, it still surprised me.

Then again, he could be faking it. So many people pretended they were something they weren’t.

When all but one man had left, most with their wallets in their hands, I chuckled and shook my head.

He was still chatting with whoever had remained when he finally noticed I was standing only a couple of feet away.

The moment of recognition was evident and that alone kept my amusement rolling.

When his jovial expression soured, I finally made my move. My intentions were to put the man in his place with a subtle yet powerful warning. I’d been told I was very good at doing so.

He leaned in, whispering to the kid standing by his side.

While Jameson tried to mask his annoyance, he did send his companion away. I had a feeling the young man was his aide or assistant. Perhaps he was telling the guy to hunt down security.

I had no intention of making a scene.

“Can I help you?” When he feigned not knowing me, I almost laughed.

Still, I accepted his handshake. “Perhaps you don’t know me, Jameson, but you certainly knew my father. In fact, it’s my understanding the two of you were good friends until he tried to expose your unscrupulous side.”

“There are dozens of people who try their best to discredit me. I’m sorry. Who’s your father?”

“Sebastian Royal.” He was a politician. He had a basic ability to act unfazed. But before I looked away, pretending to wave to someone I knew, I’d seen a spark in his eyes. While I couldn’t ascertain quickly if it was derived from concern or anger, I honestly didn’t care at this point.

“I’m sorry. The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Fascinating since the two of you were dormmates for three years. You had many of the same classes together and were on the rugby team.” I returned my now pointed gaze in his direction.

I had to give the guy credit. He was quite masterful at the art of looking confused. And of attempting to recover.

“You mean Winston the fifteenth. Right?”

Winston was my father’s middle name so the recovery was smooth. “So you do remember him.”

“Yeah, now I do, buddy. Although the moment he set foot in the stadium, no one used his first name again, including me. You’re his son.”

So we were going to play it this way. Fine. I didn’t mind the cloak and dagger stuff. There were several phrases I remembered my father saying over the years, like the devil was in the details and cornering an enemy needed to be handled with great care.

I’d been a card player all my life, enjoying gambling for fun. Why not? What I had learned over the years was that men pushed into a corner always showed their true colors.

As long as you could maintain patience.

Nothing had changed. I was here to plant the seed and wait for the fissures to begin. That might take hours or days, but it didn’t matter.

“Ahh. Something new I learned about my dad.”

Jameson studied me carefully, lifting his glass and taking a sip. “How is Sebastian?”

I doubted there was anyone who ran even remotely in the same circles who didn’t know my father was dead. It had been pretty much national news. “He’s dead. Murdered.”

The words were matter of fact, said without emotion. They also seemed to choke him up given my callous delivery.

Which was exactly what I wanted.

I’d been the brother to wonder whether we’d been hasty in accepting who’d been deemed responsible. For all I knew, a bunch of people could have been involved. However, that wasn’t the point of this meeting either.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. How did it happen?” He actually almost looked sincere.

“Poison. My brothers and I will find the asshole responsible and when we do, there will be more than hell to pay.” It was my turn to lock my eyes on his. At least my upper lip was curled in a smirk. Someone might confuse my expression for a smile.

He didn’t.

Another flash of fear shifted into his system. “I hope you can, Braxton. He was a good man. I’m sorry we lost touch.”

There was no need to push the previous documentary on him any further.

“Yes, he was. Tough, especially on his three boys, but highly respected. We still aren’t certain why anyone would want him dead.”

I sensed he was about to laugh, giving himself away that he knew more than he wanted to let on, but he stopped just shy of doing that.

“Often, we don’t know every single detail about lives of those we care about.”

Bingo. He’d fallen into one of my traps.

“That is very accurate, Jameson. In fact, my father knew that better than almost anyone. In fact,” I allowed myself to laugh, even scratching the beard I’d started to grow, “he was the master of collecting information on those he worried could become lethal enemies.”

“Lethal? He was a film producer, for God’s sake. A highly respected one, other than the people who hated the beam placed on their lives.”

He knew damn good and well how powerful my father was, but his choosing to ignore the man’s former status added credence to the idea he was well aware my father had kept more than one little black book.

“Oh, he was much more powerful than that, Jameson. He could crush men’s balls without lifting a finger. I admired that about him, his ability to slide in like a predator, striking without warning. The good news is that both of my brothers and I learned his secrets and accepted this beautiful practice.” I allowed the words to hang in the air for a few seconds. “Anyway, I thought I’d stop and give my regards. I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. I hope your work is going well.”

He was slightly off his game for a few seconds, just long enough to know I’d struck a homerun. “Yes, it’s been extremely fulfilling.”

I nodded and started to walk away but couldn’t seem to help myself, hungering for one last scrap of information. Freebies were always good. “Incidentally. I understand we have a new Australian ambassador. What is his name?” I scratched the scruff on my face.

“Justin Sinclair.” He acted as if by saying the man’s name he was going to become infected with some plague. The inflection in his voice told me more than what he could say. “Pompous son of a bitch who in my mind forced his way into our country.”

“Ouch. Sounds like trouble,” I said, laughing on purpose.

“He is trouble. A real pontificating asshole who refuses to follow anyone’s rules. He will learn he can’t behave like a Neanderthal while here.”

He seemed to realize he’d likely said too much, hiding behind his glass and trying to calm his anger.

“Yes, well, men of great aspirations often do stupid things.”

“I am curious. Why the interest?”

“Why? He was another one of my father’s very good friends. I wasn’t certain if he’d heard the news about Pops.” I’d laid another piece of bogus groundwork, although my father’s secret diary of sorts had mentioned Justin’s name. Part of the inclusion had seemed cryptic, but I certainly hadn’t gathered he’d been close with the man.

Just like there was no love lost with Jameson either.

“Thankfully, the fucker isn’t here.” He took a deep breath, regaining all his bullshit composure. “Enjoy your stay in DC, Braxton. How long are you staying?”

“Oh, that depends on the business I have. Not long.”

I could tell it was on the tip of his tongue to ask what business I had going on in his beloved city, but he thought better of it.

It was a good thing. I wasn’t going to provide a single detail about any aspect of my life or the Royal Empire.

“Good to meet you, Jameson. Enjoy your evening.” I walked away before he could respond, leaving him no doubt highly perplexed. First task accomplished.

Now it was onto the more entertaining part of the evening.

Taming a wild animal in the form of a koala.

The beautiful raven-haired girl would soon learn that attempting to run away from me only resulted in the appearance of the primal beast.

And I was hungry for a hunt.