Stealing Hearts

by C. D. Samuda

  C.D. SAMUDA

  Stealing Hearts

  Published by Yorkside Press

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2019 by C.D. SAMUDA

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without the expressed permission of the author or publisher.

  For information contact:

  Yorkside Press

  admin@yorksidepress.com

  Author contact:

  www.caroleesamuda.com

  books@caroleesamuda.com

  https://facebook.com/CDSAMUDA

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  ALSO BY THIS AUTHOR

  Connect :

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Warning

  If you are easily offended by situations such as explicit sexual content, adult language and situations concerning racial discrimination, this novel might not be for you.

  Trigger warning

  Attempted lynching included.

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  Prologue

  “Cheapskate,” Shade mumbled under her breath.

  The wallet had only a $20 dollar note, no credit cards and an expired driver’s license. She pocketed the money and tossed the wallet. The old thing was coming apart anyway and she would never be able to pawn it. Usually, she’d return the wallets with the credit cards and up-to-date driver’s license, but this wasn’t worth the trouble. When there was nothing inside, she would exchange it for some cash at the pawn shop up the street. This wouldn’t even fetch her a dollar.

  The cats needed food so she picked up a four pound bag for them at the twenty four hour mart. She also got a loaf of bread and a couple cans of baked beans. She loved baked beans. What was left could only get a liter of soda and a gallon of bottled water. That would last her a couple of days until she needed to do this all over again. That morning, she’d lifted a few items of clothing from the store, including clean underwear. For now she was set.

  “Hey Shade,” someone called her name as she entered the alley leading to the abandoned building she occupied.

  The men in the neighborhood knew not to bother her, unless they wanted Big John, Momma Ruby’s husband to break their leg. Momma Ruby ran the brothel in the neighborhood and she was the one to protect her since she was sixteen years old. Momma Ruby took her in and told her she could live freely until she was of age. She never asked her to work in her brothel. She said she would only employ adults and only those who wanted to.

  Living in the brothel was uncomfortable, having many men try to force themselves on her. After she turned eighteen, she moved into the abandoned building a block away, still under the watchful eye of Ruby.

  Momma Ruby was a stout woman with the face and heart of an angel. John was tall and hulk-like and his face carried a scar from the left ear to the corner of his mouth. He said he received that scar while serving time in prison for breaking a man’s arm. When she decided to move out of the brothel house, Ruby gave her blessing to move down the street, even giving her a bed and few items.

  “No one is gonna bother yuh, so don’t worry,” Momma Ruby said in her Jamaican accent. “Anyone mess wid yuh. My John will break him leg.”

  Her mind came back to the present as a slight breeze lifted the tail on her blouse. She stopped as someone trotted up to her. He was Brick, Momma Ruby’s second son and a car thief. Although he purported to be a tough guy, he was afraid of Shequania, his woman. She was twice his size and a former pro wrestler whose knee got damaged in an accident caused by Brick.

  “What yuh want wid me?” she asked.

  Although Shade was not Jamaican, she’d learned the dialect quickly being around the Jamaicans in the neighborhood. It was the best thing to happen to her because everyone seemed to fear them, even the Latinos.

  After living on the streets near the South Side for a few weeks, one night she was attacked by a group of men and was saved by no other than Ruby and John. They took her home and questioned her about her family.

  “I don’t have any family,” she’d replied.

  “Nobody?” Ruby asked. “No parents?”

  “No.”

  “You can’t live on the streets like dis, unless you want to become like the girls out there,” Ruby said. “Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t want to be a prostitute.”

  “You want to come live wid me?”

  Shade had thought about it for a minute before replying. “I don’t know.”

  Momma Ruby smiled and caressed her cheek. “You don’t worry ‘bout a thing. You will be safe wid us. What is yuh name?”

  “Shade.”

  “Shade?” Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of a name is dat? Anyway I like it.”

  It was during the next few days that Shade found out that Ruby and John were like the grandparents of that community in the Bronx. John had many contacts that provided fake IDs, passports and even birth certificates. Momma Ruby was the Madame that no one would mess with.

  Unlike the other females who lived on the streets, Shade did not smoke, take drugs or sold her body. Her trade was strictly stealing. She could break into any store, pick any wallet and knew how to steal a car without raising an alarm. She learned long ago how to use her cats to help her steal the cars in the suburban neighborhoods around the area.

  “I need your help,” Brick said. “My boss needs a few parts.”

  He was talking about car parts sold on the black market. For some of the cars that were stolen, they removed the plates, added new ones, recolor and sold them to unsuspecting people. What they couldn’t sell, way would be scrapped and sold part by part.

  “How much you payin’?” she asked.

  “The usual,” he replied. “Depending on the car. No Bimmer or stuff that has that built-in GPS system. We don’t want cars that use the voice recognition either.”

  “Am I an idiot that you have to tell me that?”

  “Well, you did take a Porsche once. My boss couldn’t use that. He had to take it to the abandoned lot down the street so the owners could come get it.”

  “That was a once off thing.”

  “Well, we got to be sure. You up for this?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “When?”

  “Tomorrow night. We’ll give you the name of the neighborhood and some of our guys will come with you and take it off your hands when you’re done.”

  “I get half up front and the other half when I hand over the car,” she replied. “And throw in three bags of cat food.”

  “No way!”

  “No can do then. My cats need to eat too,” she protested. “They do most of the work anyway.”

  Brick sighed. “Alright. I’ll add the food.” Brick relented but as he walked away Shade heard him mumble, “Fucking stray cats.”

  “See you tomorrow night then,” she called after
him.

  Chapter 1

  Braeden gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching while his fist folded tightly around his tension ball. For fifteen years he’d worked to prove himself to his grandfather. For those fifteen fracking years nothing he’d done was ever good enough. Richard Harrington controlled every aspect of his life and career. Even now that death was calling the old bastard, he was bent on controlling even his love life.

  With some amount of frustration, he tossed the tension ball aside and stood. His office chair skittered back, hitting against the wall behind. Braeden’s fist doubled, coming down hard on the smooth surface of the mahogany desk. The pencil holder topped over while the laptop slammed shut.

  “No,” he growled. “I won’t allow that miserly old bastard to control me. This is my birthright and I will acquire it at all costs.”

  Straightening his shoulders, he closed his eyes and allowed his temper to cool. In order to deal with his grandfather, he must have his wits about him. He could not let on that he was affected by the old man’s latest demand. Richard made it seem like a regular everyday request and that he was doing this for Braden’s own good. He knew better.

  Just as how Richard had controlled his father to the point of depression, he was bent on controlling his grandson as well. The resentment he felt towards his grandfather brought bitterness to his mouth. Pushing down the gall of it, he opened his eyes, calmly picked up his cell phone, retrieved the chair and sat back down. After dialing, he waited a few second for the other party to answer.

  “I’ve been waiting for your call,” his best friend and lawyer Kurt Dresden, answered.

  “I will do as he says, but on my own terms,” Braeden said.

  “Are you sure?” Kurt asked. “This could backfire.”

  “How?”

  “What if the woman is some gold digging demon who will demand more than she’s offered?”

  “She will sign a pre-nup, wont she?”

  “I’m not worried about you,” Kurt replied. “She could get her hooks into the old man.”

  “That’s why I want to do this on my own, no input from him.”

  “Should I place an ad in the paper?” Kurt asked. “I already prepared the contract you asked me to.”

  Braeden shook his head, almost forgetting that he was on the phone. “No. We’ll meet tomorrow to discuss it. In the meantime, don’t do anything.”

  After hanging up, Braden leaned back in his chair, contemplating the situation his grandfather now trapped him into. He could just walk away. But that would mean giving up his birthright. That would mean giving up everything that he and his father worked for.

  Marriage. That was the old coot’s latest demand. The stipulation was that only if Braeden married before he died would he hand over everything to him – and that too for six months. Otherwise, everything Richard Harrington owned, including shares in the company, would be divided into community property. That amounted to forty five percent. A net worth of over seventy five billion dollars.

  Braden owned seven percent shares in the company and the other forty eight percent belonged to several dozen shareholders. Some owning as little as 0.25%. That old bastard was working to send him to an early grave just the way he did with his own son.

  Northside Industries had been in the family for many generations. What was a family business became an international conglomerate. Aaron Harrington, Braden’s father was the mastermind behind Northside’s innovation into the twenty fist century. Listing the company on the stock market took every ounce of his sanity as Richard fought him every step of the way. It was after the death of Aaron, that Richard finally agreed that taking the company public was the best move, otherwise Northside would have suffered an excruciatingly painful death.

  As CEO, Braeden faced similar opposition with every decision made for the company’s benefit. He’d had to fight his grandfather tooth and nail to open a new factory in the Caribbean. Even after seeing a seven hundred percent return on profits from the Caribbean branch, he was still against opening up another location in Europe. That one was a success as well.

  Now here he was, sitting in his father’s chair, resenting the only family he had left. The old man, although suffering from heart failure still held tightly the reigns of the Harrington empire, being chairman of the board. The shareholders jumped at his bidding and he held so much power that they were scared to defy him … even now that he was in a wheelchair and could take his last breath at any moment.

  Braeden, inhaled a shuddering breath thinking about his father. Nothing pained him more than thinking about Aaron Harrington. He was the best father and husband. But Aaron had been the unhappy son of Richard Harrington.

  Braeden couldn’t lay all the blame for his father’s demise at his grandfather’s feet. His whore of a mother was partially to blame. Her leaving with another man and never looking back must have affected his father. It certainly affected him as a ten year old boy.

  After the departure of his mother, he never saw his father with another woman. The man spent most of his time making sure Northside was a success. When he wasn’t working he spent his time with his son.

  Braeden opened his eyes, turning his head to the left. The portrait of his father which hung on the wall next to the one of his grandfather caught his attention. He was particularly proud that he looked like his father, but the fact that he also resembled his grandfather left a sour taste in his mouth.

  The Harrington clan could not be hidden. Dark hair, hazel eyes that had a tinge of green on the fringes, angular jawline and strong noses were their most prominent features. He stared at his father, feeling the grief stab him in the chest like a spear. His eyes flitted over to the other portrait and his grief turned to loathing.

  What his grandfather had done to his father was unforgiveable. He would never forgive him. Perhaps that was the reason Braeden worked so hard. Not to prove anything, but rather to secure what his father had worked so hard to build.

  Having had enough of staring at both photos, he rose from his chair. Picking up his jacket he slung it over his shoulder. He then picked up his briefcase which had been sitting on his desk all day before picking up the keys to his Honda Accord. As CEO, that was what Richard ordered him to drive. This was the latest model, but he was perhaps the only executive in the city driving such a cheap car.

  The clock on the wall said it was near eight thirty, which meant that all the office staff had left for the night. As he turned out the lights and was about to leave the office, his cell phone rang. He paused a moment to tap the blue-tooth earpiece before stepping from the office and closing the door behind him.

  “Braeden.”

  It was Kurt. “I know you said we’d meet up tomorrow, but that’s for business. I’m at Ronny’s place, come on over.”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Chicken shit,” his friend cursed. “I’m waiting for you.”

  Kurt hung up the phone before he could respond. With the way his day went and how he’d been feeling, maybe Kurt was onto something. A few drinks couldn’t hurt and knowing Ronny, there’d be female company as well.

  Chapter 2

  It was that time of night that most humans were in the deepest of sleep and most dogs were exhausted from barking all through the early night. Not a sound could be heard in the suburban neighborhood of Winnetka. A lone figure silently moved along the pavement, trying to keep to the shadows.

  A ski cap covered a mass of brown kinky curls, while her face was smeared in engine grease. She carried a small bag with a fully grown black cat. When she had walked for some time, she paused and glanced around her.

  Shade checked the address that Brick had supplied. This was the most opulent neighborhood that they had ever done. And it was quite a distance from the South Side. There were several cars parked in front of a two story house. There were also cars in the driveway. Shade looked at the address once more and looked at the cars. Brick said the car was a silver Audi. But the only silver car there w
as an Accord. He must have made a mistake.

  Stepping closer to the vehicle, she looked around for any movements up or down the streets. She glanced at the house and noticed that a light was on downstairs, but all seemed quiet.

  “Come Sweetie,” she whispered, taking the cat from the bag.

  She set the cat down on the hood of the car along with a small toy mouse. Crouching behind the vehicle she waited for the alarm to go off. In the few seconds it took for the owner resetting the alarm was enough for her to do her thing. If the alarm went off while she was at work, they would check and see the cat, reset the alarm and go back to bed.

  Sometimes they would come out to shoo away the cat. In that few minutes, she’d have the door opened already and the alarm disabled. She waited for the drama. Nothing happened. Shade eased her head up and peered at the front of the car. Sweetie was playing with the mouse as planned, but no alarm was blaring.

  “This must be my lucky day,” she mumbled, raising herself up to her full five feet seven inches.

  Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, she sidled to the driver door. It was locked. Dipping inside her jacket, she pulled out a thin wire and straightened it. At one end she made a small hook. Quickly, she jammed the wire between the window and frame and pushed down. When she was certain that the wire had passed the lock, she shifted it slightly, then pulled up. She heard the clicking sound just as Sweetie made a loud meow.

  Shade’s heart leaped and she stood still. Sweetie had lost her mouse, which fell off the hood. Breathing a sigh of release, Shade pulled the door open and slipped into the driver seat. She was just about to stoop down to peer under the control panel when she felt the vibration in the vehicle.

  Hairs raising on her neck, she snapped her head up. The roof light came on, flooding the vehicle with white light. Keeping still, a grimace crossed her face as she closed her eyes.