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  “Momma--”she started not needing a lecture.

  “Kenya, don't worry about anything, you know we're here for our baby.” Katherine blew out a breath. “We were wondering when you were gonna come to your senses and rely on your family. What are you planning?” Katherine asked excited and Kenya knew she'd called the right person.

  “When we were little you and daddy told us about rent parties you held when someone needed help. Well I wanna hold a character testimonial party and bring together local people that can vouch for Jonathan. My husband's freedom is sitting on a shaky fence.”

  She could hear noises in the background and her mother talking to her father before she came back on the line. “Your father said he's wearing his new orange and blue plaid golf pants with the lemon yellow sweater when you two go golfing, as your punishment for not letting him walk you down the aisle.”

  “Then I better tell you now. Jonathan and I are pregnant.”

  Crickets could be heard in Japan with the quiet that confession brought on.

  “You better be, I'm almost done with this blanket.” More silence. “I just wish you had told us instead of me assuming,” Katherine said saddened. “Seriously, Kenya, it broke your father's heart not to walk you down the aisle.”

  “I know momma, and I'm just as upset about that. However, I needed this to stay a secret for your safety as well as the baby's. I'll tell you everything once you get here. You're not upset are you?”

  “We got the box of oranges your husband sent apologizing for not having us there. If you leave us out of the birth of our first grandchild don't call this house again,” Katherine warned. Kenya could imagine her hands on her hips as she spoke and she should've known Jonathan would do something like that and not tell her.

  Kenya said softly, “You'll be here.”

  “Whatever you say, Kenya, but I mean it. I'll take the key back to the garage and the front door.”

  Not the garage, that's where the deep freezer is, her father keeps all the extra meat he buys and she does her meat shopping. “I'll see you when you get here. I love you Momma. You're always there for me.”

  “That's what family's for baby. See you tomorrow, oh wait...Karla called you a Thunder cat, that's what she said.” Kenya burst out laughing at the name of her favorite cartoon as a little girl. “I don't even wanna know what that is. Bye baby.”

  “I love you momma...” She ended the call as the cool air outside tickled her skin as Jamie rolled her through the doors to the violent scene unfolding before them. Brian held a man by the throat against the door of his limousine and the only word she could clearly make out were, find them. Them who? Had Morgan come to her senses and called Rick?

  Brian turned those dark eyes on her. On impulse, Kenya closed a hand on her stomach and Jamie stood closer to her chair shielding her and tucking Gretchen behind his other side. What, did Brian think, she had something to do with Morgan disappearing?

  Brian slipped behind the door as the car pulled onto the highway. Morgan just pissed off the wrong man.

  Chapter Six

  The pitted ceiling tiles of the prison's visitors room became Jonathan's blue skies as he listened to his attorney form what better be a winning case.

  Jonathan threaded his fingers under his chin. Felt the rasp of new stubble surfacing along his jawline against his knuckles. Hines, his attorney, set a manila folder in front of him on the metal table. Jonathan looked up then returned his attention to the folder flipping back the cover drawing out the papers.

  Rubbing a finger around where his wedding band should sit, reminded him of the precious lives waiting for him at home, he asked, “How's Kenya?”

  “Och, if ye dinna already marry the lass, I would throw me hat in the ring. She's a beautiful lass, that one is,” Hines praised, raising his eyes as he turned the papers back to face him, spreading them out over the table.

  “She's not available. Doona set yer attention on me wife, Hines. I had to work hard to get that one.” He rested his body along the edge of the table to lean in peering into the man's face. The table legs scraped over the tile floor. “What's she uncovered?”

  “Randall Nyi Hassle is proving to be an asset in keeping you out of prison for life. His connections go into places a stranger could never go. Nobody will refuse to answer questions from a prominent family, and his is well known in the business world over there.”

  He'll keep that bit of information to himself after fighting Kenya on involving Randall at all; she'd love to hear this.

  “His true last name is Ogephehan.” Was that an alias? That information brought Jonathan to sit up straight. “Doona worry, he's legit. His family’s well known owning many office buildings in downtown Lagos. He likes to keep that private when he travels; keeps people from asking for favors.” He eyed his watch. “He should be here soon, and going over his report, he spared no detail.” Jonathan looked on as Hines rifled through his files. “In the report from his contacts, Graham Brennar was scheduled to meet with a Mr. Nygen to purchase a compound in the south end of Lagos, Nigeria. His family; wife and two children, waited for him in Killary Harbor in Ireland, the night he was scheduled to meet with the man in Kenya. According to the local pub here, he entered the establishment at precisely 7pm. By 8:30pm, the bouncer was breaking up a fight between him and another patron...Dart game got out of hand and Graham left without paying his debt. They found his body behind the trash bins out back.”

  “What of the body supposedly found in Nigeria. Where'd it come from, a morgue?”

  Hines turned and eyed the door his body brushing along the edge of the table as he shrugged off his suit coat. He dumped the pinstriped jacket on the table pooling like an old towel. “Many are suspicious of law enforcement in Nigeria. Unless you know the right people, you can come up missing by talking or asking too many questions.” Hines tipped his head. “Missing bodies don't always...turn up. Westerner's don't fully understand traditional practices are alive in Nigeria regardless of how modern some live. People still respect the different tribes and the different dialects and if you don't know who you're speaking with, you could wind up accusing a village chieftain or someone high up of a crime. Outward appearances don't always tell the story.”

  Jonathan scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck fighting the headache moving down his spine. Trepidation ate at his mind. What had he missed about his father? He needed to see the will, because to go through all this to discredit him, there had to be more at stake.

  “What of his family? Graham's? They did nae ask to see the body before burying him?” He eyed the clock high on the wall. It was almost time to call Kenya, the highlight of his week.

  Swoosh.

  The warden came through the door followed by Randall. Jonathan didn't waste time on pleasantries.

  “How's my wife and bairn?”

  “Good,” Randall informed pulling up a chair from the corner. “I spoke with Kenya and she'd spoken with the rep from Global Learning.”

  Jonathan shoved his chair back getting to his feet the metal legs scraping over the linoleum. “David Spencer...she was alone with that leering punk again?”

  Randal snorted. “Man, Kenya can handle herself, believe me and no, just that one time and she had Jamie in on the meeting. I called her before I came down here. She's good.”

  “Randall...I asked for your help, cause Kenya trusts you...you still want my wife?” Tension swelled between the two men.

  “Think putting a ring on her finger makes her less attractive?”

  “Don't fuck with me, Randall.”

  Randall raised his chin to Jonathan leaning over the table. “Kenya's a friend...a beautiful, married friend. You make her happy and that's why I'm here. I wouldn't be helping you get out if I wanted her.”

  “She's my world...” the words fell from his lips sounding more desperate than he cared to share, there it was. Kenya was his world.

  He watched Randall get to his feet. One man to another, they stood. Minutes passe
d. No words just minutes and he knew why Kenya called this man a friend. Honesty sat in his eyes. He had an ally.

  “You're the reason she breathes, man...the reason she breathes...I'm working to get you out, not because I think you're innocent, but when Kenya was vulnerable and unconscious you took care of her...no other reason.”

  That's what ate at his soul, he had to rely on others to help Kenya. “I appreciate it...”

  “And, Hines,” Randall said, “Kenya's sent something to Jonathan's phone. She said you had it and only wanted Jonathan to see it.”

  Hines dug into his briefcase retrieving Jonathan's phone. He held the phone out over the table. “If it's pertinent to the case, I'll need to see it, no matter how personal, Jonathan.” He set the phone in Jonathan's outstretched hand.

  Pressing the center button, Jonathan typed in his code and waited to see her message. Kenya's warm whiskey complexion filled the screen as she held the hospital gown up showing her bare stomach. He ran a finger over the screen where his child lay snug and secure inside his wife. She'd thought of everything as usual.

  “What is it?” Hines asked. Jonathan stared a while longer before acknowledging the question.

  Jonathan tapped his foot under the table as pride coursed through him. “--Private!”

  Randall said smiling, “Told you, in her eyes, no other man exists. Believe that if you believe nothing else I tell you.” He tapped the table. “Kenya's your woman.”

  Kenya was his wife. Jonathan dropped to the metal chair shooting a harsh stare on Hines. “Get a guard on her...Spencer breathes too fast in her direction...” Hines got up from the table and tapped his electronic device. Minutes later, Randall and Jonathan watched him return to the table lowering himself absently onto the chair. It scraped the floor.

  Hines set his electronic device on the table, the screen slowly fading. “Done. Now there's three at the estate. Kenya's nae gonna be too happy.”

  Couldn't be helped.

  Randall set some papers down sliding them closer to Jonathan on the table along with Hines. Jonathan flipped through the folders.

  He flashed a glance at Randall, then tipped a chin to Hines. “Catching me up on your report,” he said. Randall turned in toward Hines. Rolling the cuffs of his dress shirt back, he propped an elbow on the table.

  “Okay...Randall you know all this, but Jonathan...on the state of the body, allegedly, tagged as Graham Brennar it's not as clean cut as they make it out to be.” He cleared his throat. “The body was shipped to the family here in Ireland. According to this report, the family believed he came from Nigeria, because they met the cargo coming off a fishing boat in the harbor. Supposedly the captain was doing a favor for a larger ship that couldn't get in closer to deliver the body.”

  “So they believe the body came from somewhere in Africa...cementing Brian’s claims of the place of death?” Jonathan said looking at Randall.

  Randall shook his head and Jonathan looked between both men.

  Hines said, “Yes and no. Your alibi, of being in the States celebrating your wife's promotion, just needs to be verified and I can't use any of Kenya's family that attended that night. The prosecuting attorney will just burn whoever I put up there spouting nepotism.”

  “Have you heard from Brian or his lawyer?”

  “No, these charges are from the families of the alleged victims.” Hines loosened his tie and got comfortable on the seat.

  Jonathan said, “After hearing Fiona had been traveling to Nigeria often, I decided to go with her this last time, but I couldn't miss Kenya's dinner. Fiona was glad I changed my mind, she said she had a representative from the tourist board meeting her at the airstrip once she landed.”

  “That must've been why she called me,” Randall interjected into the conversation. “I went that next morning.” Randall informed sliding a receipt across the table to Jonathan.

  Hines angled his shoulders looking at the little carbon slip. He raised uncertain eyes to Randall. “You want me to believe independent, Fiona... Blakemore needed a travel companion?” he smirked and became serious. “Something between you and Fiona?” he asked his attention set on Randall then held a hand up. “If you two are involved, you'll need to cool it until this is over. Nepotism will be the prosecutors opening line.”

  Randall ran a hand over his face, “I thought it was obvious, but I shouldn't assume you knew by my accent...I'm Nigerian.” Hines shifted in his chair giving Randall a narrow stare. “No one's gonna question why she had a Nigerian escort with her---in Nigeria?”

  The arrogant stares continued. Jonathan didn't have time for posturing. He smacked the table. “Rub dicks together later, what about Fiona?”

  Both men eased down, shoulders relaxed and Hines lowered his gaze to the files then shot Randall a fierce look. “Free advice...stop drooling when you speak of the woman and no one will think your sleeping with her.”

  “Ye know me cousin, Hines,” Jonathan jumped into the heated conversation. “Nae, she travels alone plenty. She wanted me to go to show the faces behind Blakemore estates assuring those who doubted there was an heir to the estate as I'm not seen as much.”

  “Okay this is good,” the lawyer told him, leafing through the contents of the folder, dancing his attention between that and his device. “We have a strong case to work with here.”

  Jonathan leaned forward. “I don't want my wife anywhere Brian can get his hands on her. In addition, I want you to make certain Kenya has access to my funds. Get her cards, cash, set up an account for her personal use. I'll deal with the fight she'll put up later. I don't want my wife needing anything while I'm in here.”

  Nodding, Hines tapped on the small keys on the electronic pad. “I'll take care of everything here.

  “And Brian, where is he?”

  “He's in the States. I'm certain he's searching for Ms. Morgan Claiborne or Blakemore, depends on whether the marriage license is valid,” Hines replied sliding his folder into his suitcase.

  Randall said, standing to pull on his coat. “I need to get back to the states for work, but I'll send you whatever information we uncover, Hines. Jonathan, stay strong.”

  Twenty minutes later, he sat quietly in his cell listening to the man in the bunk above him.

  “I heard you're in for killing four men for looking at your girl?”

  “Something like that.” The man leaned over the edge, his clean shaved head shining under the strip of light in the ceiling.

  “We don't much care for men touching another man's woman in here. You need anything you let me know. I got contacts on the outside.”

  He eyed the man with tattoos that told a violent story and an even more violent one as some of those were done without the proper needle. The scars were deep and wide. It was so easy to say yes and have Brian disappear, but he didn't want that lifestyle for his family even if it kept him from Kenya. “I'll keep that in mind.”

  Chapter Seven

  Climbing over onto the deck of the mini-yacht, Brian strolled around the polished teak planks watching the cold Atlantic waves swell, and sway, lapping at the sides of his baby. Salty sprays of seawater dotted the edge of the railing marring its high, pristinely polished, lacquered surface. Taking a step back, he avoided the splatter of sea salt on his hand tailored pinstripe suit. His shoes weren't so fortunate as the saltwater beaded across the toe. Grabbing a napkin from the table, he blotted the stain until it was a dark reminder to have them polished, then tossed the wad of paper in the wastebasket under the table.

  Everything up to that point had gone according to plan until his wife escaped the estate meeting, leaving him with his balls in hand in front of his men. He'd find her and when he did she'd learn to never cross him again. Once he finds out whose helping her the minutes of their life, will be numbered. Nobody takes from him and Morgan had his child, the heir to Blakemore estates. She'd grown on him when he hadn't planned on keeping her, but something about her he liked...a lot.

  “So ya dinna want me
to go after yer wife's family? The American?” his guest asked.

  If those sisters are working together, they’ll wish they’d never heard of the name Blakemore. “No—they have no effect on the castle--they're just the in-laws.” He eyed his watch, his men should have something on Morgan soon. “That's why I need your reports...Yer on the inside, me eyes, what’s going on in the castle?”

  The rock glass clanked against the cup holder carved into the table when the man took a swig then set it down. Thick lines creased out from the corners around his eyes, as he squinted out over the horizon before leaning out on elbows propped on his knees. He gave Brian a skeptical stare. “Aye, the latest news in the castle…they’re planning a party.”

  Brian grinned jerking his chin up in disgust. “Dinna take her long,” he accused. “Jonathan thinks his woman is pining away the days in her tear stained apron waiting for him to come home and instead she’s kicking up her heels in celebration.” Twisting at the waist he reached over sliding the silver tray closer. Picking up one of the cold shells resting on the bed of ice, he slurped down one fat oyster than a second before throwing back his whiskey. Licking the briny juice from his lips, he tipped his chin up in a quick motion. “Money changes people, remember that. And with Jonathan's bairn growing in Kenya, she has me fucking castle in a death grip, and me son with his head stuck between her thighs.”

  The man cocked a brow. “Not this one, she's got other plans to help your son,” he argued before popping an oyster into his mouth, smacking his lips, the sound echoing around the boat. When did manners become outdated? “She’s rounding up testimonials to back Jonathan on the trial for Graham’s death. The lass is a fighter and has no given up beaten the pavement for yer son's freedom. She's shaken down everyone that's ever let the name Jonathan Blakemore cross their lips, stroking their ego, for a good word on yer son's behalf.”