Billion Dollar Hearts (Inconguity Series Book 3)

by Thandiwe Mpofu

  “I love you baby. Promise me that you will always rise above everything.” He whispers to our daughter who is now alarmed at what’s happening, watching me with wide eyes as I hurriedly wipe away my tears. I don’t want her last memory of her parents to be me crying.

  “Yes Daddy. Always.” She whispers back. For her age, she is razor sharp smart and is able to read people and situations in a way that is unlike anything I have ever seen.

  “What’s happening?” She questions, this time looking directly at me.

  And before I can answer, there is a loud banging at the door. James and I both freeze and look at each other.

  In his eyes, I can see my beginning and my forever. In his arms, I’ve found where I belong and with loving him and being loved by him, we both have the greatest gift of all, Charlotte.

  “It was always you.” He says to me and then kisses me. It’s the most painful and chaste kiss we have ever shared together but it says all the things I wish we could say to each other but we can’t. We have run out of time, out of chances but we have hope. Charlotte is our hope.

  The banging at the door continues. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks and howls. The breezy gush of wind that rushes through the window comes in carrying all the potent danger that wafts in the air around the trailer park. It comes in and stays, permeating the space between the tree of us as we stand stock still, taking each other in for the last time.

  “Go now.” James instructs and with one last meaningful look that mends my soul and breaks my heart in the same breath, he turns away to answer the door. To let in death.

  To hell with that. It’s too late anyway.

  “Charlotte.” I say as I grab her tiny hand in mine. She is unusually silent and has always been that way when she is trying to work out something. She has that same calculative tendencies as her grandmother and I have to admit, from myself as well.

  “Mama, what’s going on?” Her tiny voice reaches my ears but I know James is right, our baby has to live. Our baby has to make it.

  “I want you to get behind that little back cupboard door and close it after you, sweet girl. I know how you like to hide in there, baby. But this time, I want you to get in there and stay there.” I instruct and she looks up at me with confusion in her eyes that are the spitting mirror image of mine.

  “But why Mama? You said I should stay away from that cupboard.” She questions, tilting her head slightly to the left.

  We don’t have time for this. I can hear the door opening now and then the stampede of heavy feet rushing into the trailer. That prompts me into action, opening the little backboard, I instruct my daughter to get in and tell her not to move.

  Making eye contact with her, I know that this is the last time that I will ever see her. She is beautiful and God knows I want to be with her but I want her to live a full life. A fulfilling happy life where she is in command of her every decision. I don’t want her to be scared. I don’t want her to be alone. I want her to be loved and to find love.

  I simply want her to soar like an eagle. She is royalty. I hope all these years that we had together, she got it. I know it’s not enough, it’s not nearly enough but forever has never been promised to anyone.

  My destiny has always been with my husband, and I will always stay with him. All roads lead to James, no matter where those roads may begin, they will always lead me right back to him. Even in death and danger.

  “Rise above, baby.” I whisper to her, choosing to ignore the fear in her eyes. I can’t help it but I will damn well make sure that the gift our lives were blessed with can live on.

  Chapter 2

  Gideon

  MY PALMS BALL INTO fists. I can feel the pounding in my chest but I refuse to let the dread I’m feeling to have any leeway. There is no way that I can allow myself to feel the violence that threatens to let loose. Not now, not in this room.

  “Yes, that’s right Mary. Neighbors around the prestigious hotel reported that they heard a multiple series of shots that were allegedly fired right here where I’m standing. It appears to be the back-service entrance for the staff members that work in the Diamond Hotel. When questioned by authorities earlier, the kitchen staff, who were hard at work around the time of the ‘incident’—say they did not hear anything amongst all the bustle happening within the hotel itself.”

  I’m in some kind of holding cell used by the FBI to interrogate their victims, thinking they are doing their best to ensure national security. And while that notion is commendable, their attempts to pin the events being told on the news right now on me, are entirely ridiculous.

  “What does any of that have to do with me?” I demand, making sure not to give McGuire the satisfaction of seeing me disgruntled. I keep my facial expressions controlled and impassive. Something tells me that he is looking for something in me.

  “Are you really going to play that game, Mr. Black?” He says as he circles me, while I’m seated at the chair, facing the small screen of the television that they wheeled in here.

  “I’m hardly playing any games and you are essentially wasting my time.” I grit out. I can’t control the frustration in my own voice because now not only do I have to deal with McGuire and whatever bullshit he is playing at, my mind is racing with the possibilities that whatever incident that happened at the hotel had everything to do with the one person who brings out the monster in me.

  Deep down, I know that she was involved in that, and while my gut churns and I feel like I’ve just been drenched with ice cold water and plunged into a nightmare all in one breath, I still watch the television, taking in as much information as they provide.

  “The authorities are already on scene, investigating but before they could get here, the alleged perpetrators had already fled after exchanging gunfire with an unknown bad. Some say it’s gang violence, while there is also talk that what happened here had everything to do with the attendees of tonight’s gala, hosted by a Mr. Stefan Demetri who, tonight, announced his bid to run for Mayor of New York.”

  The news anchor continues to narrate the tale, while behind him, one can see the flurry of activity happening around him with the flashing lights of the police.

  “I can see the paramedics there, Gary. Was anyone hurt?”

  “I can’t seem to tell as they are not allowing us through but there doesn’t seem to be any bodies on the ground. It almost seems like nothing happened. The authorities are, however, questioning tonight’s attendees. . .”

  The screen suddenly goes black, bathing the small room in immediate silence but my mind is buzzing with possible scenarios that might have played out while I was being carted away like a damn criminal. But one thing is apparent here; this whole night was planned ahead of time. It was obviously orchestrated by someone.

  That someone knew that I would be there. They knew that Chloe would also be there, and I’m willing to bet that they also knew that she would be with me. Which then means, someone out there has not only been watching Chloe—but has been watching me with Chloe.

  Fucking hell. I almost punch the table in front of me but refrain from showing my anger.

  I was so consumed by the magnetic pull that is Chloe that I never once stopped to make sure that we were actually safe. I mean, the signs were there, right from the day McGuire and his boy visited Chloe’s workplace and practically ambushed her, leaving notes all over her office, I should have known then. But I ignored the glaringly obvious red flags. Lost in my need to have her. And now that need has thrown her into the vortex of a danger that I don’t have a handle on.

  “What do you want with me and why am I here?” I demand, looking up to meet the waiting gaze of McGuire who stands right beside the small television.

  “You know exactly why you are here, Mr. Black.” He says in a cryptic manner that’s getting on my nerves now more than ever. Something about his voice and the way he looks at me is rubbing me the wrong way. I have never really trusted the guy but somehow tonight, I just feel like something is tota
lly off. Apart from me failing to see that I was being woven in a trap that is.

  “According to you, I am a suspect to a case you have been working on. What I fail to understand, however, is why you fucking barged into my office, demanding for me to help you in the first place. Knowing good and well that I was already a suspect in your so called case.” I can’t control my frustration and I want him to see it. Back me up in a corner and I won’t just lash out, I will tear everything apart.

  I can literally feel that Chloe is in danger. From the moment that we parted ways at the elevator, I’ve had an incessant need to have her with me. To have her in my line of sight and now, she is in danger and it’s all my fault.

  “New evidence came up.” He simply states, looking at me with a smug expression on his face.

  “If that’s the case, why am I in here? Why haven’t you charged me yet?” I demand, watching as the stout man works to control his features.

  “We are still waiting on something but that isn’t the case here. You obviously know what happened tonight. Could you elaborate on what happened tonight—shed some light for us.” He questions as he takes a seat in front of me.

  I do my best not to launch across this table and choke the bullshit out of him.

  “I was with you and obviously missed all the excitement.” I grit out sarcastically, my voice coming out with a bite that I can’t control and he flinches.

  Hmm, so it seems McGuire is afraid of me. Well then. . .

  “That isn’t to say you were not aware of the possible activities that were to happen at this high profile events.” He responds, completely ignoring my sarcastic remark. “Can you tell me about Ms. Smith?” He questions, and this time, I feel like all of this chatter was building up to this moment, as if this question about Chloe is what he wants to know above everything else.

  I lean forward, and stare him down, forcing myself not to raise my voice, yet now my suspicion levels have risen to a pitch high.

  “What about Ms. Smith?” I demand, my voice laced with a venomous threat that I will not control.

  “Isn’t all of this about her?”

  The smirk on his face makes my stomach drop and somehow, I feel like I’m a puppet in a game I don’t have any clue as to how it works.

  “What does that mean?” I demand.

  “Never mind what it means. I would like to know your exact relationship with her.” He counters, getting right to the point.

  “I’m not telling you anything without my legal team present.” I state.

  McGuire’s curiosity about Chloe seems to be leading to something that I don’t think I would like to know but I’m beginning to piece together broken bits of information that we long ago collected. Little fragments of whispered conversation that I picked up here and there. . .

  This also means that Chloe is indeed lost somewhere out there and is in grave danger. The thought makes me almost stand up and walk right out of this place. I’m hoping that Max—who I have complete confidence in—managed to stop any hyperactivity targeted towards and against Chloe.

  Before he can answer, the door to the interrogation room opens and some other guy comes in with hurried steps. He leans over to whisper something in McGuire’s ear. I watch as McGuire’s facial expression change from smug to shocked and then as his gaze connects with mine, there is anger there. All of this happens in a heartbeat, piquing my curiosity

  In that moment I realize something; whatever makes him angry is probably good news to me.

  McGuire rises suddenly as he shoots me a hard stare but I match it with my own tenfold.

  “This is much bigger than you, boy.” He spits, then walks out, followed by the young man who seems to be trembling in his feet as he goes after McGuire.

  What could be bigger than me? I stare at the blank television screen and realize that a lot could go wrong, a lot could seem bigger than me, but that’s not my concern. She is my only thought and whatever is ‘bigger’ than me, will soon know that I’m downright larger than life when it comes to her.

  Chapter 3

  Chloe

  I groggily come to and the first thing that I become cognizant of is the pounding headache that threatens to send me into a fainting spell.

  I try really hard to open my eyes, but I can’t. Not because the room is really bright, but because my eyelids are heavy, so damn heavy and I feel unusually weak—too weak even—to open them.

  I’m definitely not receptive to my surroundings. My mouth is dry and my entire body is heavy and it hurts. I try to move but can barely move my fingers. I attempt to move again. Forcing myself but I only manage to roughly jostle myself. I let out a gasp, groaning in pain.

  Fuck, all of me hurts.

  “Chloe! Chloe, are you awake?” I hear a high-pitched voice comes from somewhere making me groan again, the sudden assault to my ears makes my head pound again. It feels like my head is going to split open any second now.

  “Oh, sorry.” The voice is now a low, soft whisper. I still have no idea where it is coming from. “You must be feeling sensitive to the slightest movement.”

  That’s an understatement. What happened to me?

  For a moment, my mind is blank. I don’t know where I am. I have no idea who is talking to me and my vision is blurring at an alarming rate, making me panic.

  “Shh, Chloe. You are safe now, calm down.” The voice soothes in a low whisper. The voice is familiar though, making me feel relieved somewhat. I need familiarity right now because I feel lost and out of my mind.

  “What’s happening?” A different voice cuts in, demanding and hurried.

  “She is awake but she is panicking, making her heart rate accelerate.” The same woman says, her voice steady and sure.

  “Why is she panicking?” The voice demands again.

  “Her nerves are short, very sensitive so do me a favor and shut the fuck up.” The voice harshly whispers.

  Silence.

  How can I not panic? I don’t feel safe right now; my heart is pounding at the same rate as my headache. I feel like vomiting but there is nothing in my stomach, I know that much. Everything aches.

  I can’t open my eyes. I can’t move my limbs. I feel numb—as if lead runs through my veins instead of blood. I try and relax, allowing the pressure I desperately feel to subside so I can have some kind of bearing over my surroundings.

  I need to figure out what the hell happened to me. I force my eyes to open, and this time, I need them to fully cooperate with my curiosity right now. I manage to open them, although my vision is blurred, I still manage to open my eyes. A point for me, I guess.

  “What happened?” I croak out, my head is still pounding but it’s better now as the light has been dimmed. Immediately, I see a figure come into my line of sight and it’s Sam. Oh thank God!

  I know I’m not in an ordinary hospital room. Hell, I’m not even in a hospital. Just like the last time I fainted, I wake up to find myself in a fancy, large bed with the softest bed sheets ever and I just know. This has prestige all over it, in other words, it has Gideon written all over it.

  And yes, it all feels like I’m resting on a cloud but the difference between then and now is that my whole body is one large, agonizing ache and I’m vigorously searching my brain for an explanation—any kind of explanation really—as to why I feel this way but I’m coming up blank.

  “Oh, Chloe.” Sam starts, her voice filled with so much emotion and concern. “Where do I even begin? Do you remember anything at all from the last 24 hours?” She questions. her voice filled with worry that tugs at my heart.

  I try to shake my head, but even that action brings so much pain to my pounding headache so I settle for croaking my answer. “No.”

  “What were you thinking Chloe? That was no time for you to act like a hero.” She chides and as I look at her—like really look at her—I notice the shine of unshed tears.

  “Sam, what happened to me?” I manage to ask again, after a bit.

  “Those drugs are
stronger than I thought.”

  She gets up to pour a glass of water and passes it on to me with a straw. I gulp down the water thirstily, trying to get rid of my parched throat. I feel like somebody stuffed a ball of cotton in my mouth and forced me to swallow it. While I drink, I look at her expectantly.

  “I expect you have a while before the drug they gave you clears out from your system. You might feel uncomfortable for a while and don’t have full command of all your muscles.” She informs—her doctor persona now in full effect.

  No shit, I feel horrible.

  “Okay, start over. I need you to jog my memory.” I inform her, desperately needing her to explain.

  Did I have too much to drink last night? The last thing I remember was a very explicit romp in the maintenance closet with Gideon and my night ends there.

  Where is Gideon anyway? My heart thunders at the thought. Something is wrong.

  “Oh Chloe, it just happened out of nowhere and you tried to protect me. I didn’t know what we were walking into. Max had to explain it all to me. It almost feels like we are in a bad movie right now.” Sam says, looking at me with a kind of panic that I have never seen before in her eyes.

  “How about you start from the gala. What happened when I left you?” I ask calmly as I sip my water. I don’t want to spook her even further.

  “Yeah, I can do that.” She says as she gets comfortable in the chair beside the large four-poster bed.

  “So, when you left, I was talking to Charles’ friend. You remember him, Lawrence Harvey?”

  I nod my head. Of course, I know all about Lawrence Harvey. I wonder if that idiot Caleb got to him.

  “And then that guy you came in with, Caleb something. I didn’t get his last name. He seemed a bit off in the head to me but whatever. He came and he told us that you had some minor details to take care of. And well, I didn’t think much of it since it’s your idiot boss who hosted the damn gala, to begin with and you. . .”

  I groan. “Come on Sam, don’t ramble. Tell me what happened. What did Caleb say?” I demand.