by J. R. Ward
BY J. R. WARD
THE BOURBON KINGS
The Bourbon Kings
THE BLACK DAGGER BROTHERHOOD SERIES
Dark Lover
Lover Eternal
Lover Awakened
Lover Revealed
Lover Unbound
Lover Enshrined
The Black Dagger Brotherhood: An Insider's Guide
Lover Avenged
Lover Mine
Lover Unleashed
Lover Reborn
Lover at Last
The King
The Shadows
The Beast
BLACK DAGGER LEGACY
Blood Kiss
NOVELS OF THE FALLEN ANGELS
Covet
Crave
Envy
Rapture
Possession
Immortal
NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY
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Copyright (c) Love Conquers All, Inc., 2016
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Names: Ward, J. R., 1969-author.
Title: The angels' share/J. R. Ward.
Description: New York: New American Library, [2016] | Series: The Bourbon kings; 2 | Description based on print version record and CIP data provided by publisher; resource not viewed.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016019753 (print) | LCCN 2016013524 (ebook) | ISBN 9780698193048 (ebook) | ISBN 9780451475282 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Family-owned business enterprises--Fiction. | Families--Kentucky--Fiction. | Upper-class families--Fiction. | Bourbon whiskey--Fiction. | Family secrets--Fiction. | Domestic fiction. | BISAC: FICTION/Romance/Contemporary. | FICTION/Contemporary Women. | FICTION/Sagas.
Classification: LCC PS3623.A73227 (print) | LCC PS3623.A73227 A85 2016 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016019753
Jacket art: photo of car and trees by Car Culture/Getty Images; photo of house by Simon Watson/Getty Images; background texture (c) djgis/Shutterstock Images; author photo by Andrew Hyslop
Jacket design by Anthony Ramondo
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
Dedicated with love to:
LeElla Janine Scott
xxx
CONTENTS
BY J. R. WARD
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
CHARLEMONT COURIER JOURNAL
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
The "angels' share" is a term of art used in the bourbon-making industry. Nascent bourbon is put into charred oak barrels for its aging process, which can last up to twelve years or longer. As the barrels are stored in uninsulated facilities, the natural climate shifts in Kentucky's four glorious seasons cause the wood to expand and contract in the heat and the cold and thus interact with, and further flavor, the bourbon. This dynamic environment, with the additive of time, is the final alchemy that produces the Commonwealth's most distinctive, well-known and well-enjoyed product. It also results in a vital evaporation and absorption. This loss, which can average about two percent per year of the original volume, and which varies depending on the humidity of the environment, temperature swings, and the number of years of aging, among other things, is known as the angels' share.
Although there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for the depletion that occurs, a logical rationale, as it were, I love the romantic notion that there are angels in the warehouses of these venerable Kentucky distilleries, enjoying a tipple as they float above the earth. Perhaps it is a mint julep during Derby when it's warm, and then a bourbon up neat during the cold months of winter. Maybe they're using it to make pecan pie or to spice up their chocolates.
The functions for a good bourbon, as I am coming to learn, are endless.
I also think the term can apply to the weathering that changes us all over time. As the heat and cold of our experiences, our destinies, expand and contract our emotions, our thoughts, our memories, we are, like fine bourbon, a different product at the end--and there is a sacrifice involved: We are made of the same core elements we were at first constructed of, but we are never the same afterward. We are permanently altered. If we are lucky and we are smart and we are freed at the right time, we are improved. If we are aged too long, we are ruined forever.
Timing, like fate, is everything.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Virginia Elizabeth Bradford Baldwine, also known as Little V.E.: Widow of William Baldwine, mother of Edward, Max, Lane, and Gin Baldwine, and a direct descendant of Elijah Bradford, the originator of Bradford bourbon. A recluse with a chemical dependency on prescription pills, there are many reasons for her addiction, some of which threaten the very fabric of the family.
William Wyatt Baldwine: Deceased husband of Little V.E. and father, with her, of Edward, Max, Lane, and Gin Baldwine. A
lso father of a son by the family's now deceased controller, Rosalinda Freeland. Also the father of an unborn child by his son Lane's soon-to-be-ex-wife, Chantal. Chief executive officer of the Bradford Bourbon Company when he was alive. A man of low moral standards, great aspirations, and few scruples, whose body was recently found on the far side of the Falls of the Ohio.
Edward Westfork Bradford Baldwine: Eldest son of Little V.E. and William Baldwine. Formally the heir apparent to the mantle of the Bradford Bourbon Company. Now a shadow of his previous self, the result of a tragic kidnapping and torture engineered by his own father, he has turned his back on his family and retired to the Red & Black Stables.
Maxwell Prentiss Baldwine: Second eldest son of Little V.E. and William Baldwine. Black sheep of the family who has been away from Easterly, the historic Bradford estate in Charlemont, Kentucky, for years. Sexy, scandalous, and rebellious, his return to the fold is problematic for a number of people in and outside of the family.
Jonathan Tulane Baldwine, known as "Lane": Youngest son of Little V.E. and William Baldwine. Reformed playboy and consummate poker player in the throes of a divorce from his first wife. With the family's fortunes in turmoil and embezzlement rife at the Bradford Bourbon Company, he is forced into the role of family leader and must rely now more than ever on his one true love, Lizzie King.
Virginia Elizabeth Baldwine, soon-to-be Pford, known as "Gin": Youngest offspring and only daughter of Little V.E. and William Baldwine. A rebellious contrarian who thrives on attention, she has been the bane of her family's existence, especially as she had a child out of wedlock during her college years and barely graduated. She is on the verge of marrying Richard Pford, the heir to a liquor distributing company and fortune.
Amelia Franklin Baldwine: Daughter of Gin and Gin's one true love, Samuel T. Lodge. A student at Hotchkiss School, she is a chip off her mother's block.
Lizzie King: Horticulturist who has worked at Easterly for nearly a decade and has kept its gardens nationally renowned showcases of rare specimen plants and flowers. In love with Lane Baldwine and fully committed to their relationship. Not into the drama of the family, however.
Samuel Theodore Lodge III: Attorney, sexy Southern gentleman, stylish dresser, and pedigreed, privileged bad boy. The only man who has ever gotten through to Gin. Has no idea that Amelia is his daughter.
Sutton Endicott Smythe: Newly elected CEO of the Sutton Distillery Corporation, Bradford Bourbon Company's biggest rival in the marketplace. In love with Edward for years, she has excelled professionally, but stagnated in her personal life--in large measure because no one compares to Edward.
Shelby Landis: Daughter of a thoroughbred racing legend whose father, Jeb, mentored Edward when it came to horses. A hardworking, strong woman, she takes care of Edward--even when he doesn't want her to.
Miss Aurora Toms: Easterly's head chef for decades, capable of serving up soul food or Cordon Bleu cooking with a strong hand and a warm heart. Suffering from terminal cancer. Maternal force in Lane's, Edward's, Max's, and Gin's lives and the true moral compass for the children.
Edwin "Mack" MacAllan: Master Distiller of the Bradford Bourbon Company. Cultivating a new strain of yeast, he is racing against time and limited resources to keep the stills running. Hasn't been in love with a woman for a long time, if ever. Married to his job.
Chantal Blair Stowe Baldwine: Lane's soon-to-be-ex-wife. Pregnant with William Baldwine's illegitimate child. A beauty queen with all the depth of a saucer, she is threatening to expose the paternity of her unborn baby as a way to get more money from Lane in the divorce proceedings.
Rosalinda Freeland: Former controller for the Bradford Family Estate. Committed suicide in her office in the mansion by taking hemlock. Mother to Randolph Damion Freeland, eighteen, whose father is William Baldwine.
Charlemont Courier Journal
OBITUARIES
WILLIAM W. BALDWINE
Mr. William Wyatt Baldwine passed into the loving arms of his Lord and Savior two days prior. A world-renowned businessman, philanthropist and civic leader, he had served as Chief Executive Officer of the Bradford Bourbon Company for thirty-six years. Over the course of his tenure, he ushered in a new era of bourbon appreciation, and took the company to over one billion dollars in annual revenue.
A devoted family man, he is survived by his loyal wife, Virginia Elizabeth Bradford Baldwine, and his beloved children, Edward Westfork Bradford Baldwine, Maxwell Prentiss Baldwine, Jonathon Tulane Baldwine and Virginia Elizabeth Baldwine, and his beloved granddaughter, Amelia Franklin Baldwine.
Visitation and private services are at the convenience of the family. In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to the University of Charlemont in Mr. Baldwine's name.
ONE
Big Five Bridge
Charlemont, Kentucky
Jonathan Tulane Baldwine leaned out over the rail of the new bridge that connected Charlemont, Kentucky, with its closest Indiana neighbor, New Jefferson. The Ohio River was fifty feet below, the muddy, swollen waters reflecting the multicolored lights that graced each of the span's five arches. As he rose up onto the tips of his loafers, he felt as though he were falling, but that was merely an illusion.
He imagined his father jumping off this very ledge to his death.
William Baldwine's body had been found at the base of the Falls of the Ohio two days ago. And for all of the man's accomplishments in life, for all of his lofty pursuits, he had ended his mortal coil tangled and mangled in a boat slip. Next to an old fishing trawler. That had a resale value of two hundred bucks. Three hundred, tops.
Oh, the ignominy.
What had it been like to fall? There must have been a rushing breeze in the face as William had been fisted by gravity and pulled down to the water. Clothes must have flapped as flags, slapping against body and leg. Eyes must have watered, from gust or perhaps even emotion?
No, it would have been the former.
The impact had to have hurt. And then what? A shocked inhale that had sucked the river's foul waves in? A choking sense of suffocation? Or did a knockout render him blissfully unaware? Or . . . perhaps it had all ended with a heart attack from the adrenaline overload of the descent, a stinging pain in the center of the chest radiating down the left arm, preventing a lifesaving swim stroke. Had he still been conscious when the coal barge hit him, when that propeller had chewed him up? Certainly, by the time he went over the falls, he was dead.
Lane wished he knew for sure that the man had suffered.
To know that there had been pain, tremendous, agonizing pain, and also fear, a ringing, overwhelming fear, would have been a powerful relief, a balm to the swill of emotions that his father's watery death caused him to drown in even while he stood on dry land.
"Over sixty-eight million dollars you stole," Lane said into the uncaring wind, the disinterested drop, the bored current down below. "And the company's in even more debt. What the hell did you do with it? Where did the money go?"
There was no answer coming up at him, of course. And that would have been the same if the man were still alive and Lane were confronting him in person.
"And my wife," he barked. "You fucked my wife. Under the roof you shared with my mother--and got Chantal pregnant."
Not that Lane's marriage to the former Chantal Blair Stowe had been anything other than a certificate he'd been coerced into putting his name to. But at least he was owning that mistake and taking care of it.
"No wonder Mother is a drug addict. No wonder she hides. She must have known about the other women, must have known who and what you were, you bastard."
As Lane closed his eyes, he saw a dead body--but not his father's swollen, mottled mess of a corpse on that slab from when Lane had gone to the morgue to ID the remains. No, he saw a woman sitting upright in her office at the family's mansion, her sensible, modest skirt and button-down blouse arranged perfectly, her bobbed hair only a little mussed, grass-stained running shoes on her feet instead of the flats she h
ad always worn.
There had been a horrible grimace on her face. The Joker's mad grin.
From the hemlock she had taken.
He'd found that body two days before his father had jumped.
"Rosalinda is dead because of you, you sonofabitch. She worked for you in our house for thirty years, and you might as well have killed her yourself."
She was the reason Lane had found out about the missing money. The former controller for the family's household accounts had left a kind of suicide note behind, a USB drive with Excel spreadsheets showing the alarming withdrawals, the transfers to WWB Holdings.
William Wyatt Baldwine Holdings.
There were a good sixty-eight million reasons she had poisoned herself. All because Lane's father had forced her to do unethical things until her sense of decency had snapped her in half.
"And I know what you did to Edward. I know that was your fault, too. You set your own son up in South America. They kidnapped him because of you, and you refused to pay the ransom so they'd kill him. Business rival gone while you get to look like the grieving father. Or did you do it because he, too, suspected that you were stealing?"
Edward had survived, except Lane's older brother was now nothing but a ruined shell with an irregular heartbeat, no longer the heir apparent to the business, the throne, the crown.
William Baldwine had done so much evil.
And these things were only what Lane knew about. What else was out there?
Equally important was what to do about it all. What could he do?
He felt like he was at the helm of a great ship that had been turned to a rocky shore--right before its rudder snapped off.
With a quick surge of strength, he swung his legs up and over the heavy steel railing, his loafers slapping on the six-inch lip on the far side. Heart pumping, hands and feet going numb, mouth drying out until he could not swallow, he held on behind his hips with an under-grip and leaned even farther into the abyss.
What had it felt like?
He could jump--or just step off . . . and fall, fall, fall until he knew for certain what his father had been through. Would he end up in the same boathouse slip? Would his body also find the propeller of a barge and be great white'd in the filthy fresh waters of the Ohio?
In his mind, clear as day, he heard his momma say in her deep Southern drawl, God does not give us more than we can handle.
Miss Aurora's faith had certainly seen her through more things than most mere mortals could bear. As an African-American growing up in the South in the fifties, she had faced discrimination and injustices he couldn't even imagine, and yet Miss Aurora had more than endured, triumphing in culinary school, running the gourmet kitchen at Easterly not just like a French chef, but better--while also mothering him and his brothers and sister as no one else had, becoming the soul of Easterly, the touchstone for so many.
