Kenzie had been Franny’s only family, and vice versa. Kenzie had been named sole heir of her sizable fortune. She didn’t care about the money. She could live comfortably on the trust fund from her parents’ estate. She’d rather have her aunt alive and well. She’d just decided on the subway ride home to visit her aunt. Having to do so this way was a cruel blow in a day full of them.
Brushing a hank of hair from her face, she shoved the box against the wall next to the other three that were scheduled for pickup tomorrow. Most of Franny’s smaller appliances had been new, along with her dishes and silverware. Though she hated to part with anything that had belonged to her aunt, it would be better to donate them to someone who needed them. Kenzie had her own eclectic collection of kitchen utensils.
She stood and stretched the muscles in her back. She felt at loose ends. Now that the condo had been packed up, she needed to decide on her next move. Her dream had always been to become a writer, which was why she’d taken the position with Pickens Publishing out of college. Her goal had been to work at the publishing house during the day making valuable contacts and gaining crucial experience while writing at night. She’d started out as a fact checker before working her way up the ladder to editorial assistant and finally senior editor. Her position was hectic and sometimes stressful, but she was good at her job, so good in fact, she worked twelve to fourteen-hour days regularly and most weekends. Her own book had been shelved as she channeled her efforts into bringing other writers’ dreams to fruition.
Maybe getting fired was for the best, although the legal terminology in the papers she signed had been precise in stating that she hadn’t been canned. Her job had simply been eliminated. By Jared. For accusing him of sexual harassment.
She’d already received offers from two other publishers in New York, including Page-Turning Publishing. Wouldn’t that be poetic justice if she ended up working on Alfred Holt’s book after all? She’d been dealing with Franny’s funeral and packing up her condo, so she told both agencies she’d get back with them when she was able. With nothing else keeping her in Detroit, now was the time to decide. She hadn’t looked over the details from either offer apart from the salary. Both were extremely competitive and much more than she made at her former job. Maybe she should’ve tested the waters sooner.
Her cell phone rang. She found it on the bar beside her laptop and checked the display, her eyes widening at the name on the screen. Her thumb hovered over the decline button, but she caved and answered. “Hello?”
“Kenzie. This is Bernadette Weldon from Pickens Publishing.”
“Hello, Bernadette.” Why would she be calling her? Hadn’t they humiliated her enough? “What do you want?”
“Look, Kenzie, I’m not going to beat around the bush. We made a mistake and upon further evaluation, we’d like to hire you back. We’ve restructured, so Jared won’t be on top of you anymore.”
Kenzie held the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Was she serious? “Jared won’t be on top of me. Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“No…oh, sorry. Poor choice of words. What I mean is that he will no longer be your boss. There will of course be a bump in salary and a larger office space.”
“I don’t understand. Less than ten days ago, I was humiliated in front of an office full of executives,” okay, there’d only been three plus the lawyer, “escorted from the premises by armed guards as if I’d stolen company secrets and sold them on the black market. Now you want me back. Why the sudden change of heart?”
Bernadette cleared her throat. “You excel at your job, Kenzie. You’re able to handle clients that others find…difficult.”
“Look, Bernadette, my time’s valuable, so let’s cut to the chase. What’s the real reason? I’m not going to sue, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The papers she signed made sure of that.
Bernadette huffed an irritated sigh. “Stuart Ellis and Sissy Carrington are threatening to move to a different agency if we don’t hire you back.”
Ah, the real reason. Kenzie smiled fondly. It warmed her heart that two of her biggest clients were contemplating leaving Pickens Publishing. She wasn’t surprised Stuart threatened to leave, but Sissy could be trying at the best of times. Sometimes Kenzie felt like bashing her head against her desk when working with her. But to know that Sissy was so committed to her was rewarding.
On the other hand, it infuriated her that it took two multi-million-dollar authors threatening to jump ship for senior management to consider rehiring her. She’d devoted her entire career to Pickens Publishing. They gave her a start in the industry. Now they needed her, but she didn’t care. She owed them nothing. “I’m sorry, Bernadette. I’m not interested. Goodbye.”
“No, don’t hang up! Kenzie, I’ll be honest with you. We need you and frankly, I’m desperate. Stuart and Sissy aren’t the only ones. It’s a mass exodus. We had to stop the bleeding by assuring everyone that you would return. On top of that, someone leaked your harassment claim to a reporter. With the #MeToo movement everywhere in the press, it’s a hot topic, as you well know. Luckily, I’m good friends with the reporter and she agreed to kill the story for now. If you don’t return, she’ll publish it and we’ll be done.”
“Well, I didn’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re implying.” Also, part of the papers she signed. She bet Fern was the confidential informant, trying her best to look out for Kenzie.
By her tone, she could tell Bernadette was getting frustrated. “No, I wasn’t accusing you. But we want you back.”
It was an opportunity too good to pass up. She could dictate the terms, name her salary. She could also set her schedule, so she didn’t spend all daylight hours in the office. She was in the driver’s seat. “I’m going to pass, Bernadette.”
“Please, don’t give me an answer right now,” Bernadette said, as if Kenzie hadn’t just turned her down. “Just think about it for now.” There was a note of genuine panic in her voice. “I’ll email you an offer and give you a couple of days to decide.”
Bernadette disconnected before Kenzie could reiterate her intention to never step foot in Pickens Publishing again. If she ever ran across Jared Pickens on the street, she didn’t think she could resist slamming a fist in his obnoxiously white teeth and a knee in his groin. It was his face she pictured when going a few rounds with the boxing bag at the gym.
Setting her phone back on the counter, she glanced at her laptop. She’d written more in the last week than she had the past five years. Going back to Pickens Publishing meant her own goals would take a back seat again, not to mention her social life. She couldn’t remember the last date she went on or who it was with. Friends? What were those? She’d lost touch with her college buddies and the ones she’d made in New York were either from the office or others in the publishing industry. LaTonya was the closest thing she had to a friend and they’d just met a few days ago.
She’d put her faith in the adage that everything happened for a reason. Losing her job was the door slamming closed, but the opportunity to have a life was the open window. She was going to blindly leap through with both feet.
Chapter Three
Jamal kicked off his husky dog slippers and snuggled into his bed, adjusting the covers until he was comfy. He was slowly getting used to sleeping without his stuffed bear, though he did reach for him in the night, only to wake up and remember he was gone. Declan sent him tons of pictures of Yogi doing all kinds of fun things like sitting beside him in his truck and running on a treadmill and one where he was strapped to the back of a big black dog, riding him like a horse. Jamal laughed so hard he fell out of his desk chair. His favorite was the one of Declan holding Yogi with Peyton, Noah and Ethan around him. He’d cried when that picture came through. He missed them so much. When he showed it to LaLa, she took his phone and printed it out. Now it was framed on the table beside his bed where he could see it each night before he went to sleep.
He wished he could’ve ridden with Declan to vis
it Peyton and the others. Declan might even be moving to where they lived so he could work with Noah and Ethan. He’d get to see them every day. Peyton, too. Maybe LaLa would take him to visit them soon. She said she would, and she’d kept every single promise she’d made to him so far.
Jamal couldn’t believe how much his life had changed in a month. After the shopping trip that resulted in the bike plus a new television, iPhone, computer and closet full of clothes and shoes, LaLa took him to a furniture store and let him pick out whatever he wanted. His bedroom was the one he’d always dreamed about. His closet held more stuff than a mall and they were all brand new. Except for the things Peyton gave him from her swimwear company, and the items Lala sent for his birthday and Christmas, he’d never had new clothes before. He wore Jamarcus’ hand-me-downs or things his mom picked up from a thrift store. Nothing ever fit and he was embarrassed to go to school with holes in his clothes and sneakers. He didn’t have to worry about that now. He did have to remember to cut off the price tags, which he’d forgotten several times already.
LaLa had given him so much, he didn’t want to ask her for a dog, too. She would probably run right out and get him one, but he’d wait until the summer, after he’d been with her for a few months. He wanted her to know how much he appreciated all she’d done for him, so he asked Declan how he could show her. Declan recommended he help around the house with chores like taking out the trash and making his bed every morning. He even suggested sweeping the floor but LaLa’s super-cool round robot took care of the job. For now, his slippers decorated with grey and white pups were his pets. He’d even named them Semper and Fi. Declan helped him with that, too. He said the words were Latin and they meant always faithful. It was the motto of the Marines. Jamal didn’t know what Latin was, but he thought Semper Fi sounded sick—in a good way.
Declan had been his first phone call with his new phone. He’d still been in the hospital and groggy, but they talked for thirty minutes. Jamal told him all about his new room and the things LaLa picked out for him. He’d have talked all night, but Declan’s brother took the phone from him and promised Jamal that Declan would call him back in the next few days when he felt better, which he did. Peyton was his second call. He thanked her for the bike and even sent a picture that LaLa took of him riding. Peyton loved the photo and set it as the background on her phone.
Despite the change in situations, he had trouble sleeping the first week. He’d wake from nightmares where Jamarcus was shooting at him again or his mom was hitting Declan. He’d taken to sleeping in the bean bag chair in his hidden room. He didn’t care that it was small. It was his favorite place to be. He felt guilty that LaLa had spent so much money on his new bed, so he’d been determined to use it and after a few days, the nightmares started going away.
One of the hardest changes was starting school with only a few months left in the year. LaLa didn’t want him to repeat second grade. She’d enrolled him in a private school, so there were fewer students and he had to wear a uniform. That sucked when he had so many new clothes he wanted to show off, but the teachers were nice, and he was adjusting. He didn’t really have friends yet, but they weren’t mean to him, either.
Since LaLa worked past the time the bus dropped him off in the afternoon, she hired a woman who stayed with him until she got off work. Her name was Rosie and she cooked them dinner, too. He liked her food and she was kind, but she didn’t play with him. Kenzie came over instead and they had a great time together. She played games with him and took him to the park so he could ride his bike. He liked her a lot.
His lids started fluttering closed and he’d just drifted off to sleep when he was jarred awake by LaLa’s panicked voice.
“Jamal, wake up. Get inside your hideaway and promise me you’ll stay there until I come get you. Do not come out.”
He shot straight up. There was loud banging and the doorbell rang continuously, like someone was holding down the button. Then glass shattered. “What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure. I’m going to find out. Promise you’ll stay inside.”
“I promise.”
“Good. Now go.”
He threw off the covers, grabbed his cell phone and the framed picture from the bedside table and dove for the closet. He ripped a pair of jeans and a shirt from hangers and scooped up his sneakers before he activated the hidden latch that opened his safe place. He dressed quickly and listened for any sounds. His heart was beating so fast, it felt like a horse was galloping around inside his chest. He was afraid he’d throw up. He gasped when he heard raised voices. LaLa was yelling for whoever it was to leave. Then she screamed. More glass shattered and she screamed again. Jamal had to help her. He was about to leave when he heard someone enter his room.
“Jamal, come out, come out wherever you are,” the voice sing-songed.
He knew his name! Jamal started to shake. He didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded like the man was ripping drawers out of his dresser and tossing them on the floor. Something big smashed into the floor and tears flooded his eyes. His new computer or his television? Another big crash. Both. The man made so much noise, he had to be tearing his room apart.
“Where are you, you little shit?” The voice was close now, as if the man were standing inside the closet with him. Jamal shrank back and held his breath. “Do you want to see your aunt alive again?” Jamal nodded, even though the man couldn’t see him. “If you do, you’d better get your punk ass out here right now.”
Jamal’s fingers shook in front of the latch. He promised LaLa he wouldn’t come out, but he didn’t want her hurt. He didn’t think the man was lying.
Heavy footsteps sounded as the man stomped out of the closet, but he was still in the room, cursing loudly. LaLa was crying again but a sharp bang sounded, making Jamal jump. LaLa’s screams abruptly stopped.
Jamal couldn’t take it any longer. He punched a number in his phone.
“Hey, Jamal. How’s it going, buddy?”
He wrapped his hand around the phone and whispered, “Please come quick. I need you. They’re hurting LaLa.”
Chapter Four
Declan dropped off the last box of his meager belongings at the shipping company and thanked the woman when she handed him a receipt. He was thirty years old and he didn’t own any furniture. How sad was he?
He gave himself some slack. He’d always stayed with Eric on leave so there’d never been a need to rent an apartment he’d rarely inhabit. Growing up in foster homes taught him to get by with few possessions and he’d carried that adage into adulthood. Eric was the same way. He made a six-figure salary but lived in an average condo complex with little security and no frills. There wasn’t even a pool.
He started his truck and headed for Eric’s place. Declan had passed COBRA Securities’ rigorous requirements and had been offered a job with an astonishing salary and benefits. He was pretty sure he said yes before Luke and Logan finished with their offer. Hell, they could’ve told him he’d be working gratis, and he’d have eagerly accepted.
The physical fitness tests had been harder than Marine boot camp. Noah and Ethan hadn’t been wrong with their description of Dante Costa. The former Navy SEAL was a beast and he demanded the best of everyone. Declan was extremely proud he’d passed the tests. It’d been touch and go for a while and he’d had to dig deep to push his body past his limits. It was then he discovered he had no limits. Costa was that damn good.
As excited as he was to start the new job, he was sad to leave Eric again. He’d planned on catching up after leaving the military, but he’d been recruited to help Noah and Ethan with their mission and then he’d been hurt. As soon as he recuperated, he’d left for the interview. He hadn’t had the chance to convince Eric to move with him, but he planned on a hard pitch the next few days, right up until he drove away with Chicago in the rear-view mirror.
The route he navigated to Eric’s condo took him past the dilapidated apartment buildings where Jamal used to live. Swirling red and
blue lights illuminated the area and he slowed when he spotted emergency vehicles packing the parking lot. It wasn’t unusual since there was always violence of some kind in the area, but the activity appeared to be centered around the end unit where Jamal’s mother still lived.
Declan checked his mirrors and executed a U-turn before parking across the street. He waited for traffic to clear before he jogged over. Several onlookers were standing around watching the action. Cops and other personnel were coming and going from Jamal’s mother’s unit. If he didn’t know for a fact Jamal was safe with his aunt in Detroit, he’d have been charging inside like an angry bull, cops be damned. They would’ve had to shoot him to stop him.
He approached a woman wearing a ratty yellow bathrobe and slippers with foam rollers in her hair. A cigarette dangling from her lips, the blue smoke curling high in the air in front of her. She watched the scene dispassionately, as if she’d seen it all before. She probably had.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Do you know what happened?”
She didn’t even glance at him. “Woman who lived there was bumped off.”
“You mean…” He paused, having no clue what Jamal’s mother’s name was or if she even shared the same last name. He had no other guess, so he took a shot with, “Mrs. West?”
“Yeah.” She eyed him suspiciously, her gaze traveling the length of his body. “You know her?”
Seeing as how she tried her best to decapitate him a couple of weeks ago, he sure did, and he could’ve said yes. “No. I know her son.”
Now her eyes were mere slits and she bared her tobacco-stained teeth “You do business with Jamarcus? That boy was up to no good. He was a bad seed.”
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