Kings of the Castle

by Naleighna Kai

  Valentina hugged her son before stepping back to look at him.

  “You’re too skinny. Why haven’t you been eating?”

  “I’m just fine,” he dismissed.

  His luggage forgotten, they walked arm in arm down the hallway and out the door into the inner courtyard.

  The Reyes Mansion was a seven-bedroom, seven-bath Spanish colonial mansion. All of the rooms at the back of the house led out onto the massive patio that surrounded a large pool deck complete with seating, outdoor dining, and gardens. His father was stretched out on a chaise lounge reading a newspaper. He set it aside when he heard them coming.

  Not one for raising his voice, Victor waited until his wife and son were within earshot before he greeted them. “How was the flight?”

  “It was fine, Papa. Uneventful.” Dro perched on the end of the lounger and faced his father. “But you didn’t ask me here for small talk, did you?”

  Smiling, Victor took a sip of his iced tea. “I never tire of your company, but no, I didn’t.”

  “Has there been a change in your condition?”

  “No,” Valentina soothed before shooting a glance at her husband. “But he still has to take it easy.”

  Dro relaxed.

  “How’s Khalil?” Victor slid off a pair of sunglasses. “Is he still in the hospital?”

  “Yes, they’re still waiting to see if there’s permanent damage. I’ve seen him. All of the guys have.”

  “Did he ask you to take over my position?”

  Dro nodded. “But we were interrupted by his doctor before we could discuss the matter further. Dad, why am I here? We could’ve discussed Castle business over the phone.”

  “It’s more than that.” His father motioned for Dro to stand so he could swing his legs over the side and get up. “Walk with me.”

  They left his mother tending to her roses while they strolled around the grounds.

  “You haven’t contacted Santiago yet.”

  It wasn’t a question. Dro didn’t like being reminded of things like he was still a child.

  “I’ve been busy, Papa. Besides, we both know that Uncle Santiago has probably dug himself into another hole and just wants me to pay to bail him out.”

  “It’s more complicated than that, hijo,” he said in a weary tone. “He hasn’t spoken to me about it in depth, but it’s something about a deal he’s trying to close.”

  “Oh, great,” Dro muttered. He tried to hide his irritation, but it was hard. Though he hadn’t said it aloud, he wondered how much of his uncle’s shady business deals were what was putting a strain on his father’s health. He’d tried to get his brothers, Christian and Esteban, to run interference with their uncle, but they’d both claimed to be too busy. Another fact that had annoyed him as of late. Neither of them was too busy when it came to their own interests.

  “Alejandro,” his father said in a firm voice. “He’s family, and my brother. And we—”

  “Never turn our back on each other,” Dro finished for him.

  “Qué pasa?”

  Both men turned to see Esteban walking up behind them.

  His father held up a hand to halt any further conversation.

  “I don’t know,” Dro answered, taking in the upscale threads draping his brother’s athletic frame. “How about you tell me what’s up, and why you’re always conveniently busy when I call?”

  “Don’t be dramatic.” Esteban chuckled. He leaned in and clapped his brother on the back. Dro returned the gesture.

  “Mamá told me you were here.”

  “Always the referee,” Dro said under his breath.

  His older brother fell into step. “So, what brings you home?”

  “Business, what else?”

  Esteban perked up. “What kind of business?”

  “Nothing that you’d be interested in,” Dro snapped back.

  “Try me.”

  “Silencio,” their father said tersely.

  Both brothers clammed up. They continued walking without another word until reaching the pool deck. Victor returned to his seat and stretched out. He poured a fresh cup of tea before crossing his arms over his chest.

  “We are supposed to look out for one another. Now that I’m no longer working, my responsibilities fall to my sons to continue with our family interests—all three of you. It saddens me that I have to keep reminding everyone.”

  “Of course, Papa,” Esteban replied. “Being the oldest, the bulk of the responsibilities should fall to me.”

  Dro rolled his eyes at his brother’s impassioned speech.

  “I can work with Dro to turn over everything to—”

  “You had the opportunity to step into my shoes before, Esteban,” Victor snapped. “You refused. Alejandro is the only one of you that proved himself. I asked you to work with Khalil on some important Castle business, but you said that you couldn’t leave your interests unattended.”

  “For good reason,” Esteban countered. “The Castle is run by crooks now. Everyone knows that the King seats are in name only. There’s no real prestige in being one anymore. Any power you all had is long gone.”

  His father’s expression darkened. “Is that all that interests you, Esteban? Power? What about honor, and commitment to your brothers?”

  “The Kings are your brothers, Papa. Not mine.”

  “That’s enough,” Victor roared, standing to his full height.

  Valentina appeared out of nowhere. “Mi amor,” she cautioned.

  Instantly, Dro was at his father’s side. He shot his brother a scathing glare. “You’ve gone too far.”

  “Forgive me,” Esteban replied, backing down. “I meant no disrespect to you, Papa.”

  “To disrespect the legacy of the Castle is to disrespect me,” Victor snapped. “You all are well aware of what The Castle was for. It is the main reason you live a life of luxury.”

  Their conversation was cut short by Laura’s announcement that dinner was ready. During the meal, Esteban tried to smooth things over by talking about his wife and children. Victor enjoyed hearing about them and the tense moment between him and his son dissipated.

  During dessert, Dro received a call. He glanced at his cell phone. Knowing how his mother felt about taking calls during a meal, he said, “I’m sorry, Mamá, but I have to take this.”

  She gave Dro a stern look but nodded.

  Excusing himself, he stepped out and said, “Hi, hold on a minute.”

  He didn’t speak again until he was in the sitting room down the hall.

  “Sorry about that. What’s up, Lola?”

  “Do you normally place people on forget?”

  He smiled. “It was a hold, not forget. My mother isn’t a fan of having phones on during family mealtime. I know I’m going to hear about it later.”

  “Did you get the email I sent you?”

  “No ‘hi, how was your trip’?” he teased.

  There was a slight pause before she said, “How was your trip, Dro?”

  “Way too late,” he teased. “And yes, I received your email, though I haven’t had a chance to view it. Did you get mine?”

  “Yes, and thank you. It was just what I needed,” Lola replied. “Your associate is very thorough. It proves that the woman was trying to set Shawn up. It’s obvious she was hoping to get a big payout by being caught with one of the Mayhews in a compromising position. Thanks to you, we can counter her claims that he didn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Don’t thank me. I did it for you, not Shawn Mayhew,” he said, peering out the window at the lush landscape. “I don’t care one bit if that waste of a human being gets taken to the cleaners for his indiscretions.”

  “You aren’t going to like what you read,” Lola cautioned.

  Dro frowned. “Hang on.”

  He removed the phone from his ear and pulled up his email. He read Lola’s document and almost bit his tongue to keep from letting out a string of expletives.

  “This is bad.”


  “I know.” When he didn’t reply, she said, “What are you going to do, Dro?”

  “Whatever I have to,” he said between clenched teeth. “Because if my father finds out about this, it’ll kill him.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Grant was angry and trying to keep himself under control when he walked into Batter & Berries, one of Chicago’s popular eateries. He immediately spotted the older, immaculately dressed man seated at a corner table holding court with four flawlessly dressed men. His command audience was closer to Grant’s age, but it was clear that the older gentleman was their general.

  He took a step forward but felt Meeks’ hand grip his shoulder. Grant’s instinct was to shake him off and plow ahead, but his beef was not with his friend.

  Meeks dropped his hand. “Slow your roll. You can’t go charging up to an alderman demanding answers without any proof of his involvement.”

  “Why the hell not?” Grant’s brows puckered. “You were there when the call came in.”

  “Yes, but the caller only said that we were to meet with the man for more information. For all you know, the alderman could be an innocent bystander in this mess.”

  Grant looked over at Alderman James Knight and could see nothing innocent about the man. What he saw was an arrogant individual in his mid-fifties with a fake smile plastered on his round face. Grant saw through the façade and was ready to do battle with the general.

  “He’s no bystander. The man’s an ass in a nice black suit.”

  Meeks’ eyebrows rose and he looked down at the gray Armani suit he wore and the blue Giovanni suit Grant was sporting. “We’re the ones wearing nice suits.”

  Grant’s brows drew together. “You are so married. Let’s go.”

  As the two approached the table, the four men stood in unison, offering the alderman a protective barrier as though he was The Don for a New York mob.

  “Still think he’s a bystander?” he whispered to Meeks while keeping his eyes on the men in his wake.

  Before Grant could get the words past his lips, Meeks spoke up. “We’re here to meet with Alderman Knight,” he stated to no one in particular.

  Grant shook his head. Meeks knew his friend could take care of himself, but he couldn’t keep from slipping into a security role.

  Alderman Knight rose slowly, and two men stepped to sandwich him. It was as if he’d parted the Red Sea.

  “You must be Grant Khambrel,” he stated, offering his hand.

  Grant accepted his hand and replied, “That I am, and this is my business associate—”

  “Meeks Montgomery,” he supplied, holding out his hand. “Welcome to Chicago, gentlemen. Please, have a seat.”

  The alderman waved his hand, and three of the men vacated their seats, leaving the alderman alone with only one of his men. “Allow me to introduce you to my right-hand man, Richmond Banks.” He offered a conspiratorial look and added, “And if my beautiful daughter finally smartens up, he’ll be my future son-in-law.”

  Richmond smiled and shook both men’s hands. “Come now, Alderman, we both know your daughter is exceptionally bright.”

  The older man’s smile widened. “That she is,” he proclaimed. “My pride and joy.”

  “Alderman, we appreciate you taking the time to meet with us,” Grant said, sweeping aside all the small talk. “I have a problem. I’ve received a call directing me to you—”

  Alderman Knight held up his hand, halting the conversation. He gestured for the waitress. “I’m old school gentleman, so we eat before any business gets conducted. This place is fantastic. May I recommend their famous French toast flight?”

  The casual atmosphere and mouthwatering aroma reminded Grant of his favorite spot in Houston—the Breakfast Klub. He, too, often conducted business over a good meal. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the mood to be social. He frowned, and fisted his right hand on the table. Grant was a man who didn’t like being told what to do.

  “It’s your city,” Meeks stated, reaching for and silencing his vibrating phone.

  Grant figured Meeks must have known he was about to blow a gasket and tell the good alderman what he could do with his French toast or any other flight. Refusing his offer would not only be rude; under the circumstances, it could cost him valuable information.

  Alderman Knight grinned. “Nice. It usually takes people a lot longer to realize that fact.”

  The waitress took their orders, but not before fawning all over the alderman. Grant could admit the man was handsome and well-built for any age, but his attitude that irritated him the most. As if the woman’s behavior was expected versus appreciated.

  Their food was delivered in record time, but they could barely get through the meal without someone stopping by to pay homage to the self-proclaimed king. While Grant found everything to be tasty, he was done being cordial. For all he knew, the alderman could be the one behind the blackmail. He had questions that needed answers, so pushing past his distaste was paramount. Grant pushed his plate aside and leaned back in the chair. Meeks copied the movement.

  “Alderman Knight, while I appreciate the hospitality and this great meal, I think it’s time we get to the reason for our visit.”

  “Business … important business,” Meeks chimed in.

  The alderman used a cloth napkin to wipe his mouth before reaching for a glass of juice. After draining the glass, he called for the teenage busboy to remove the dirty dishes.

  “Now, what business might that be?” He sat back in the chair and folded his arms across a barrel chest. “Richmond, do you have any idea what business we might have with these men?”

  “No sir, I don’t,” he replied, giving Grant a disdainful onceover.

  Grant was starting to lose his patience with the games these two were playing. “Look—”

  “Could it be that you unlawfully submitted a proposal and won the United Center contract perhaps?” Alderman Knight ran the back of his hand under a chin that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a single or a double.

  “There was nothing unlawful about our submission and something tells me you know that too,” Grant countered.

  “The only thing I know is that you submitted a bid without disclosing your prior relationship with the Wirtz Company.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “And after winning said bid, your duplicity was discovered, and now you need help getting out of this mess,” the alderman stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Help that only you can provide, I assume,” Meeks stated, locking an intense glare on the older man.

  “How much is that help going to cost me?” Grant asked, trying to control his temper.

  “Not one penny,” Alderman Knight replied, grinning in that patronizing way that set Grant’s teeth on edge.

  Grant suddenly felt sick to the stomach, wondering just how much of his life was about to implode.

  “That’s how we do things here in Chicago,” Richmond said, leaning forward. “You help us … and we help you.”

  “How?” Grant and Meeks chorused.

  “I sit on the committee that led the search for the architect and construction company that will expand the United Center,” Richmond started to explain. “I’m also the person who found the error in your proposal, so it’s only right that I correct things. I’ll graciously fall on my sword, admit my mistake and all will be well.”

  “That’s my boy,” Alderman Knight praised, obviously proud of the man he was grooming.

  “I’m a busy man. Things have been a little hectic lately,” Richmond ventured. “Between business and trying to win my woman’s hand—”

  “No worries, my daughter will come around. I promise you that,” the alderman assured.

  Grant couldn’t believe this older man was talking about his daughter as if she was a prize horse to be bartered. For a brief moment, the stunning mystery woman from the hospital filled into Grant’s mind, and his body responded. He fought back the unexpected desire, but deep down he realized that las
t look she gave him was something to explored. The puppy sitting next to the alderman was about to lose out big time.

  Alderman Knight whipped out his cell and swiped until he came to a particular photo. “Lovely, isn’t she? Now you see why Richmond is losing his mind, eh?”

  Grant froze. The image on the screen was of the mysterious woman he had seen in the hospital on his visit to Khalil a few days ago. The woman who captured his attention in one instant. What were the odds?