The Bourbon Kings

Samuel T. frowned. “What the hell’s going on?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Samuel T. glanced back and forth between the brothers. As a lawyer, he had been involved in a lot of gray areas, both in terms of avoiding them and getting into them with deliberation. He had also learned over time that some information was not worth knowing.

“Understood,” he said with an incline of the head.

“Thank you.”

Before he stepped away, he forced a smile on his face. “Congratulations on the new addition to your family, by the way.”

Lane recoiled. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m quite sure you wouldn’t have chosen Richard Pford as a brother-in-law, but one must adjust when love is in the air.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Samuel T. rolled his eyes, thinking that was just like Gin. “You mean you don’t know? Your sister is engaged to Richard Pford. Have a good Derby, gentlemen. Perhaps I’ll see you both—”

But of course, not both of them.

“Ah … if either of you need me,” he amended, “you know exactly where to find me.”

Which would be anywhere their sister was not, he thought as he walked off toward his Jag.

THIRTY-FOUR

Perfect time for a break-in.

As Edward got out of the Master Distiller’s truck, he pulled the baseball hat down even lower—although if that brim were any further south, he wouldn’t be able to blink.

God … was he really back here?

Indeed, he was—and he’d forgotten how enormous Easterly was. Even from the servant entrances in the rear, the mansion was almost incomprehensibly large, all the white clapboards and black shutters rising up from the green grass, a screaming statement of the family’s long-held stature.

He wanted to vomit.

But after hearing what their father had done with Lane’s wife? There was no way he wasn’t going to do this.

In the background, he could hear The Derby Brunch in full swing in the garden and knew that this really was the only time to get in and out of the business center with the information his brother needed. With so many guests on site, there was no way their father would be anywhere but under that tent—he was a reprobate, but his manners had never been assailable. Further, all corporate staff had Derby day off, so not even the “underlings” would be at their desks.

The poor bastards might work Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, but this was Kentucky. No one worked on Derby day.

As Lane came around to follow him, he put out his palm. “I go alone.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I can afford to get caught. You cannot. Stay here.”

He didn’t wait for a response, but continued onward, knowing that after nearly forty years of his being the eldest, his words would freeze Lane where he stood.

At the rear entrance to his father’s facility, Edward punched in an access code that he’d assigned to a third party contractor five years ago as part of the security upgrade. When the red light turned to green and the lock released, he closed his eyes briefly.

And opened things up.

There was a temptation to brace himself before stepping inside, but he didn’t have that luxury, either in terms of energy or time. As the door shut behind him, the outdoor light was cut off, and it was a moment before the dim interior registered to his eyes.

Still the same. Everything. From the thick maroon pile rug with its gold edgings, to the framed articles on the company that hung on the silk-covered walls, to the pattern of open glass doorways leading down toward the central waiting area.

Strange … that he assumed just because he was different, this place in which he had spent so many hours would have changed as well.

No alarm went off as he proceeded deeper into the facility because of the code he’d used, and he passed by the formal dining room, the conference rooms that looked like Easterly’s parlors, and even more offices that were kitted out with the luxury of a top-tier law firm. As always, the drapes on all the windows were pulled to ensure total privacy, and nothing was left out on any desks, everything locked up tight.

The waiting area was a circular space, the center of which was demarcated with the family crest in the carpet. Prominently placed off to the side, and bracketed by an American flag, a Kentucky Commonwealth flag, and a pair of Bradford Bourbon Company banners, the desk of the receiving secretary was as regal as a crown—and yet that wasn’t even close to the seat of power. Beyond all that show, there was glassed-in office where the executive assistant occupied space—and finally, behind that bulldog’s desk was a door marked yet again with the family crest in shimmering gold.

His father’s office.

Edward glanced over to the line of French doors that opened up into the garden. Thanks to the combination of heavy drapes and triple-paned glass, there was not even a peep heard of the six or seven hundred people out there—and there was absolutely no chance of any guests wandering in here.

Edward shuffled forward to the glass office and entered the same code. When the lock released, he pushed his way in and went around to sit at the computer. He turned no lights on and would have not disturbed the chair behind the desk had his legs been capable of supporting his weight for any length of time.

The computer was running, but locked, and he signed on using a set of shadow credentials he’d given himself when he’d had the company’s network expanded and reinforced about three years ago.