“Hmmm,” Jordan said, stroking his chin. “Sounds like someone didn’t recognize a bad investment from the jump.” He shifted his weight to the left to allow an elderly woman who came out of a nearby cleaners to amble past. “He never paid you back the time you bought him those Air Jordan’s in his freshman year of high school. What made you think things were going to be any different just because he has some years on him?”

  “You remember that?” Hector held his sunglasses near his lips, huffed a stream of hot air on them, then wiped the lenses with a paisley handkerchief from the pocket of his suit jacket.

  Jordan remained silent as a group of women talking and laughing passed by on their way toward the center. “And as for your current issue with my brother. There’s no ‘we’ to it. He got himself into this mess, he’s going to have to make good on it, even if it takes you giving him a minute to do it.”

  “And what if I don’t want to wait that long? What if that means he might not be breathing for a minute?” Hector leaned in closer, his dark eyes intense. “You know, hypothetically speaking.”

  Jordan contemplated that threat for a moment. While Quinn wasn’t his favorite person, he didn’t want him dead, either. However, Quinn’s toxicity could get Jordan, and potentially Lani, killed—and that was not an option. “Kill Quinn and you’ll have that on your conscience—if you have one. Because you knew him when … and you still let him get to you like that. Then he throws my name into it, so you’ll let him off the hook for his bullshit. That’s on you, home slice.” Jordan shook his head and took in a familiar figure peering out of the Everett Center’s plate-glass window. “That’s not my life.”

  “You don’t fear for your life?” Hector asked as his other peeps inched closer, opening their jackets and flashing firearms for Jordan to see.

  Jordan was unfazed. “You know that year I was out of school all those months?”

  “Yeah.” Hector narrowed his gaze. “Zach and Q told us that some old chick lost her mind. Put you in a coma.”

  “That old chick was Quinn’s crazy mama. I lay in that bed for months, almost a year listening to members of my family and other people I didn’t know, say that it would be better to let me die. That I was too far gone. That I would only be a vegetable.”

  The two guards’ expressions slipped into something more solemn than the mean mugs they wore when they first approached him.

  “I heard them, but all I could think was ‘Hey, I’m still here. I’m still here.’ Jordan fumed at Quinn for putting him in this situation of having to explain something this personal so Hector would understand that fear of dying was not a thing for him. “Quinn wasn’t quite happy I survived.” He retold the story of how he believed Quinn tampered with the medical equipment in his hospital room. Resentment boiled to the surface as he recalled Quinn’s word: Gonna be nice that you ain’t there.

  Shortly after Quinn made that statement, Jordan was fighting for his life on a different level. He shook his head at the memory as if it would make it less painful.

  “Straight?” Hector asked loudly over the honking from traffic.

  “After that, I couldn’t breathe. Then the nurses and my mother ran into the room, and I don’t remember much after that.”

  Their father never believed Jordan’s claim that Quinn could do something so diabolical. It was the beginning of the rift between Eric and Jordan that never quite mended.

  “So, if we kill Quinn …” Hector hedged.

  “He’s the reason my two sisters are resting in the cemetery instead of married with children and living their dreams.”

  Quinn had gotten behind the wheel stone cold drunk and driven off a Dan Ryan Expressway overpass. Somehow, this poor excuse for a human being had made it out alive and with barely a scratch. The same couldn’t be said for Neesha and Shawna. Their lives were snuffed out. It also wasn’t a heavenly experience when Jordan angered his father by reminding him that Quinn was making good on his efforts to be an only child. Zach survived because he knew exactly how to work around their father’s expectations. A flash of rage filled Jordan. “If you kill him, I’d say karma came with a calling card that said, ‘remember that shit you did’.”

  The coldness of that statement settled around them.

  The bodyguards shook their heads, as Hector said, “That’s fucking brutal, man.”

  “That’s life,” Jordan shot back. Evidently, Hector would have no problem threatening him, Lani, or even his mother to get the money Quinn owed. So, if it came down to a choice between Quinn and the people in his life that he loved, Quinn would lose every time. “You came from money, just like I did. Your family was one of the wealthiest where we grew up. So I don’t see how you or my brother ended up in that thug life and drug life. Unlike a whole lot of kids where we’re from, we had choices. You all made this one.”

  Hector’s expression darkened with anger. “So what are you saying, homie?”

  “I’m saying you’re in a life where big fish swallow up little fish all the time,” Jordan explained, putting his focus on the Center’s entrance where a busload of children were filing in. “This time my brother’s the little fish, but the people you’re in bed with are the sharks. What happens when they’re ready to take a bite?” Jordan hoped putting Hector on notice that he wasn’t safe either would push him toward giving Quinn a chance to clean up his act. “At some point, you need to own up to your own shit and do something that would make your mom and the whole Martinez clan proud.”

  “You gon’ let him speak to you like that?” one of the stocky guards growled.

  “Only ‘cause he’s spitting some truth,” Hector replied without taking his gaze off Jordan. “Might’ve been the runt of the litter, but he ain’t saying nothing that didn’t cross my mind already.”

  Hector gave him a nod, signaling for them to retreat. “And just so you know, I’m not the only one he’s into either. I’m just the one he owes the most.”

  “Not my problem. Another thing,” Jordan said, gesturing to the area around them and to his Center. “This right here is sacred ground. You have a problem with Quinn, take it to him. We were safe growing up, these children should have a place to be safe, too. This. Is. That. Space. You heard?”

  “Damn, man.” Hector’s eyes widened with surprise. “When did you grow some balls?”

  “I already had them,” Jordan said disarming his men with one sweep before handing both guns to a shocked Hector and walking away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jordan left Hector with his thoughts and headed into the Center, unbothered by the exchange. He had better things to do. If Hector had wanted him dead, there wouldn’t have been a conversation, but he also had sent a message that he would have gone down stinging and swinging.

  Jordan had founded the center when he graduated from a university closer to home. With grants from several foundations, the Center had leveled up to where they also offered after school and Saturday programs. All of them designed to benefit children and their parents; to provide the art and other classes that schools decided were no longer beneficial to students. They were so wrong.

  Artwork was what had helped Jordan communicate with the world while in the hospital recovering all those months. His artwork allowed people to see that he still believed there was beauty on earth when it had been dark to him for such a long period. While in that semi-conscious state, he would mentally draw what he thought the nurses looked like based on their voices. He would reconnect with family by visually drawing what he remembered of their faces. These, and those prayers, are what kept him going during that time.

  Now he had a group of teachers, interns, celebrities, and well-known artists sharing their knowledge with children from a range of impoverished areas of Chicago, as well as an award-winning program that focused on children with Autism. An amazing woman was in place to run the Center, and no one except her knew he was the owner. He’d established a corporation and appointed a board of directors who were vital to its day-to-day operation.

  A slender but shapely blond wearing a snug navy suit approached him.

  “Jordan, it’s so wonderful to see you,” Ms. Hardy said, flipping her long hair over one shoulder in a dramatic fashion. “Isn’t this your day off?”

  He stepped back, creating more personal space between them. “Good afternoon, Ms. Hardy.”

  “Why do you insist on saying my name that way?” She moved in closer, almost creating an intimate environment around them. “You never call me Dina.”

  “Because I’m making sure we keep those professional boundaries in place that you’re always advocating the staff should respect.”

  “Staff.” Ms. Hardy rested a manicured hand on his chest. “But that doesn’t have to apply to us.”

  Jordan glanced down and removed her hand. “It most certainly does. Mixing business with pleasure is always a bad idea.”

  “Depends on the business and what type of pleasure we’re talking about,” she said in a husky tone. “I’d love for you to be … at my service.”

  Jordan heard the thinly veiled threat for what it was. The subtle hint of the name of the agency. He gave her a quick once over. She fit the age, profile, and financial status of the women who secured the services of the agency. She’d probably recently stumbled upon his profile while he was in the process of replacing the client who made her transition. If memory served him right, that was the same time Ms. Hardy’s divorce was finalized.

  He made a mental note not to renew her employment contract with the Center when it was up in the next two months. Her advances were becoming more and more bold. The truth of the matter was that she was excellent when it came to procuring funds for various programs, but she’d been increasingly aggressive on other levels since the divorce was underway last year. Maybe he needed Zach to look into her affairs.

  “Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hardy.”

  Her gaze narrowed to slits, and he realized that a woman continuously ignored was more dangerous than any viper could ever be.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Forcing her distraction aside, Lani eased her Tesla into the visitors’ parking lot on the grounds of The Castle in Wilmette. Acres of sprawling greenery held everything from horse stables to an eighteen-hole golf course. Her thoughts somehow kept going back to Jordan and his confession of love. That was not the clean break she wanted. Unfortunately due to the unique nature of the situation, she couldn’t discuss her feelings with anyone. No one was supposed to know about him. And thanks to a tip from Daron she already knew that Dr. Risden had hired someone to dig a little deeper into Lani’s background. All the more reason to end things with Jordan.

  Her phone chimed with a fifteen-minute meeting reminder. Get your head in the game, she chided herself. Lani inhaled and exhaled slowly before sliding out of the driver’s seat and heading toward the stone tower. A stocky security guard held the door open as she stepped onto the red carpet. She took in the elegance and beauty of the golden foyer and the two grand staircases leading to the upper level. The security guard returned to his post as she approached the reception desk.

  “I’m Lani Jamison, here to see Daron Kincaid,” she said to the brunette sitting at a walnut desk in front of the security station as she slid off her rain jacket and placed it over her arm.

  “Of course.” The woman smiled, pushed a button on the desk phone, and adjusted the mic on her headset. “Dr. Jamison has arrived for the King of Morgan Park.” She stood, frowning as she unconsciously rubbed her pregnant belly.

  Something about that movement sent Lani’s mind reeling back to the time of her own ill-fated pregnancy.

  * * *

  “We can do this,” Lani said to Evan, knowing that being pregnant as a junior in high school wasn’t supposed to be part of her future. She wanted to attend college and pursue her love of writing. She especially wanted to research the plight of the Hawaiian queen who was imprisoned and betrayed by her brother; only later for him to be betrayed by the white men who colonized that area of Hawaii.

  Evan placed his hand on her stomach. “I believe in my parents’ plans.”

  As an only child, Lani had always wanted to keep the baby, but Evan felt it was best to terminate the pregnancy. She was grateful the doctor convinced them to talk with their parents because Evan’s had come to the rescue.

  “I’m scared,” she confessed, facing him where they sat on a park bench with the Chicago skyline as a backdrop.

  He kissed her cheek. “Me too.”

  “But I believe in us, and we’ll find a way to deal with things so our lives can go on as planned,” she said, feeding off the love in his amber eyes.

  They sat there finishing homework assignments when agonizing pain shot through her body and buckled her knees.

  Evan caught her moments before she hit the ground.

  Gasping, she said, “Something’s wrong.”

  He rushed her to the hospital, but by the time they reached the emergency room, she was bleeding profusely. The pain intensified while the doctor made repeated attempts to reach her parents. They said a minor couldn’t be treated without a guardian’s or parent’s consent.

  Lani held on to Evan’s hand as the pain wracked her body. “They still can’t reach your parents.”

  Twenty minutes later, Evan’s parents showed up. “You’ll treat this young woman or we’re going to bring our lawyers in to sue this hospital for negligence.”

  * * *

  What she thought was a miscarriage, the hospital confirmed was something called an ectopic pregnancy—which meant the baby was developing outside of her womb. Unfortunately, the remedy for that condition left her unlikely to have the family she desired. That moment was the catalyst for the desire to become a doctor.

  “Dr. Jamison?”

  Hearing her name snatched Lani back from the day she lost her baby and almost died. “Yes.”

  “I’m Nicco Wolfe.” A tall, blond, blue-eyed man approached, his steps long and powerful. “I’ll be escorting you to the conference room in the Morgan Park Wing.”

  Lani followed him down an elegantly decorated hallway. The beauty of her surroundings was lost on her as she mentally prepared for the conversation with Daron. He was an integral part of her plan to create a more affordable robotic surgery unit as well as a way to outfit the hospital with better technology that would bring Meridian into the 21st Century of medicine, having everything accessible at the touch of a nurse’s or doctor’s thumbprint. Daron would also be invaluable if she needed protection from her past. He’d also be the first person to turn to for help with the current situation if the detective on the case didn’t get to the bottom of things.

  But Daron and the other Kings of the Castle had a history of taking down illegal organizations. Would Daron dig into her life and find her newest secrets? Could she and Jordan end up behind bars? She hadn’t realized the decision to utilize the At Your Service Agency would complicate her life and tarnish her reputation if it came out. She was simply taking care of an immediate need, one that had gone unanswered for far too long.

  The possibility that breaking the law by using the service could affect her future business dealings hadn’t crossed her mind.

  “Lani, are you all right?” Daron greeted her at the entrance of the executive meeting room.

  She’d been so distracted; she didn’t realize they’d already made it to the intended destination. Shaking Daron’s hand, she said, “I’m excited to see what you’ve developed.”

  Lani followed Daron into a room with a mahogany oval table surrounded by reddish-brown leather chairs. “Did you get my suggestions for the pediatric wing in Lahaina?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Three men in expensive suits stood as she entered; she only recognized one of them. Her gaze shifted toward the large blank screen at the front of the room.

  “Dr. Jamison, you remember Jaidev Germaine.” Daron gestured to a man in a navy suit with an olive complexion and a gray streak in his dark hair.

  “Yes, I remember Jai,” she said, returning the smile of the distinguished looking gentleman.

  Darron nodded toward a man wearing a white tunic over a slightly muscular build. “This is Chaz Maharaj.” Daron turned toward the other side of the table. “And Calvin Atwood.”

  Calvin smiled and extended his hand. His coloring reminded her of the Georgia pecans she used in her caramel pecan pie that was a hit for holiday potlucks.

  Lani leaned in to whisper in Daron’s ear. “I thought I had a brochure that had images of all the Kings, but I don’t recognize this guy.”

  “The Kings and the Knights work together on all projects.”

  “No queens though?”

  Jai leaned over and whispered, “Cameron Stone, but trust me she’s more king than queen.”

  “Watch it,” Daron warned, give him a nudge in the side.

  “Hello, gentlemen.” Lani approached the table, shaking the other hands that were extended her way.

  “This is the team I’ve consulted with to develop the New Robotic Surgeon, which we now refer to as NRS.” Daron took a seat, and everyone followed suit. “Chaz and Calvin are in from Durabia for this latest test.”

  Calvin swiveled his chair in Lani’s direction. “With medical advice from Jai and Chaz, we’ve created an excellent tool for the OR that comes in way under the cost of other robotics on the market.” He handed her a small black device with a strap dangling below. “This part can administer anesthesia, monitor vitals, and also works as an IV.”

  “An herbal anesthesia will be used in this testing,” Jai explained, as the screen in front of the room came to life.

  “Is it as effective as general anesthesia?” Lani was aware that Jai was into a holistic approach, but she was developing this, hoping to get it into the Meridian General Hospital. They wouldn’t take kindly to new adjustments to anesthesia, too.