PROLOGUE
Joseph Anderson wasn’t a man who lived with regrets. He’d enjoyed a blessed life with family and friends, and even if there had been bumps in the road along the way, he figured that was all just a part of who he was today.
He was in the prime of his life, in his humble opinion. He didn’t care that his hair and beard had gone white many years earlier. He didn’t care that his smooth skin had become wrinkled, and he didn’t care that it took him a few extra seconds to rise from his favorite easy chair in his den after having a drink of fine scotch and possibly sneaking a few puffs from a favorite cigar.
Age was just a number, and it wasn’t something that would define him or slow him down. There was still a lot of life to live, and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment of time. Right now he was sitting back in his favorite chair, a smile on his lips.
Family.
At the end of the day, it all came down to family. Whether a man was rich or poor in the financial sense, he’d die a wealthy man if he had a good family. Maybe there had been a time or two in Joseph’s life he’d . . . um . . . helped his family along, and maybe, just maybe, they might’ve called that meddling, but to date he hadn’t steered a single one of his children or nieces and nephews wrong. And he’d even been kind enough to help some of his friends out in expanding their beautiful families. That was commitment, in his humble opinion.
Instead of making accusations at him, they should be throwing big parties in his honor, thanking him for seeing what they needed before they were even aware they needed it. But a man didn’t do what he did to be praised. He did it because he loved big-time. Everything Joseph did was done on a grand scale. And that was something that would never change.
“Charlie, can you get the car ready?” Joseph asked over his speaker.
“Yes, sir. Where would you like to go?”
“The hospital,” Joseph told him.
It took a few seconds longer to stand than it used to, but soon he was moving toward the door. After a couple of steps, the kinks in Joseph’s back were gone, and he picked up his pace as he made his way to the front of the house.
That morning Joseph had received a phone call that had stunned him. It took a lot to surprise a man who’d lived many lifetimes in his short years on this earth. But this call had at first shocked him and then brought him immense pleasure as he’d sat there for a while, basking in the news he’d been given.
Joseph had nearly hung up the phone when no one had answered his hello, but something in him told him to wait. Then she’d spoken. He hadn’t recognized her voice. Why would he have? It had been over thirty years since he’d last seen her.
Sandra Anderson.
She’d been married to his awful uncle, Neilson Anderson, who had faked his own death, then run away like the coward he’d been his entire life. Joseph hadn’t expected to ever hear from his uncle’s wife again. She’d come many years before, a baby in her arms, and then she’d disappeared into the night. Joseph had used his unlimited resources trying to find her, but it had done no good. She’d vanished without a trace.
Now, over thirty years later, she was back . . . and sadly, she was dying. And one of her last requests was to speak to Joseph.
Sandra had been twenty-five years younger than Joseph’s uncle. But that man had always been a terrible person. After faking his own death, he’d waited for his wife and infant son to collect the insurance money; then he’d grabbed her up and whisked her away to South America, where he’d had four more children with her.
Once her husband had died, Sandra had scrimped and saved and brought her children back to Seattle, but she’d been ashamed of the money she’d stolen from Joseph many years before. It broke Joseph’s heart that he’d missed out on knowing his family because of a little bit of cash. Money came and went, but family was forever.
But it was never too late. He’d make things right with his newest family members. After all, they were Andersons. And that meant something in Joseph’s book. They had no idea where they came from, but they were about to find out.
Once family, always family.
Joseph smiled as he climbed into the back of his car. It looked like he had a new project to keep him occupied. That was why he’d never grow old. He had too many family members needing him—and he was more than willing to give them a hand—whether they realized they needed his help or not.
It didn’t take long for Joseph to arrive at the hospital. And George was right behind him. One of their triplets, Richard, was out of town on business, but he’d want to be a part of this new addition to their family, too. He’d already been informed.
By the time Joseph and George left Sandra’s room, Joseph had to turn away to hide the tears shining in his eyes. She was sorry she’d taken the kids from him, sorry to have deprived them of a loving family.
Joseph wasn’t a man to hold a grudge. She’d been scared and lied to for years by the man who should’ve cherished her—the man who’d married her—Joseph’s rotten uncle. It wasn’t her fault, and Joseph truly meant it as he told her he’d take care of her children and that he found her brave to come to him now.
He and George didn’t speak as they exited the hospital. Then the two of them stood there for a while as they took in this new information they’d been given. Finally Joseph turned and smiled at George.
“It looks like we have five family members in need of our help, brother,” George said with a sly smile.
Joseph beamed. “Why, I believe you are correct, George,” Joseph said with a chuckle.
“We’d better get started. We’ve lost a lot of time already,” George said.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Joseph replied.
The two of them fist-bumped like they were teenagers as they moved toward the awaiting vehicle. They had too much to plan to take separate cars. They had five boys to take care of, none of whom were married. Joseph felt like a kid in a candy store.
“Let the matchmaking begin,” he said as George poured each of them a scotch.
They clinked glasses and put their heads together. Life was good—it was always so, so good.
CHAPTER ONE
Three Months Later
The slight limp Finn Anderson was still experiencing as he walked into the posh room at an expensive lawyer’s office had him scowling, something he’d found himself doing too much of lately. It had been three months since the bomb that had ruined his career had gone off, and he was still dealing with the repercussions of the incident.
For a man of action, having any limitations whatsoever was something very hard for him to swallow. He followed the hall to the room he’d been summoned to, and when he opened the door, he was glad to see one of his brothers waiting.
“Do you know what this is about?” Finn asked Noah Anderson, the second oldest in his line of siblings.
“Not a clue, but I was told it was important,” Noah replied.
“Maybe we’re getting a big inheritance from a supersecret ninja society,” Brandon, the comedian of the family, said as he stepped in the door right behind Finn. Finn was irritated he hadn’t known he was back there. Even his senses seemed to be messed up from the explosion.