Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021

by Anna J. Stewart

  “Is that a threat?”

  Ginger chuckled but didn’t respond to the question. Then she turned, her high heels clicking across the tiled floor. As Neema watched her walk away, she couldn’t help but wonder how long the woman had been watching her and Davis, and why.

  * * *

  Neema left the coffee shop still feeling uneasy about her encounter with Ginger. She was almost certain the redhead hadn’t seen her at the gallery and, for the life of her, couldn’t think of any other place she and Davis had been where Ginger had been there to have seen them together. There was something unholy about the woman, a coldness in her eyes that Neema found disconcerting. Their meeting left her feeling like she was hanging precariously on the edge of a cliff with Ginger standing ready to give her a push off the side.

  No, Davis didn’t know she was a reporter, but Ginger couldn’t know that, Neema thought. The woman had been reaching and, despite Neema’s best efforts to maintain a poker face, she was fairly certain Ginger had seen it in the momentary surprise that had passed across her eyes. But why would she ask, or even care? She had a husband, whoever that was, didn’t she?

  Neema suddenly thought back to the exchange between Ginger and Davis at the art gallery. How blatantly familiar the redhead had been with Davis, the interaction seemingly too intimate. Was there something between them that Davis hadn’t been whole-heartedly honest about? Or even aware of? Did Ginger have feelings for him that he had misread? Was there any chance Ginger might share her speculation with Davis, blowing Neema up? Was she going to drive herself crazy imaging the absolute worst-case scenario if Ginger did tell Davis before she could? Neema suddenly felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders and she was slowly sinking beneath the bulk of it. She felt sick, her stomach doing flips at warp speed.

  She slid into the driver’s seat of her car. For a moment, she thought about calling Davis and just telling him everything, letting the chips fall and settle, then dealing with the debris and dust after the fact. But that felt even more cowardly than being afraid to tell him. She might be a lot of things, she thought, but she wasn’t cruel and that would have been plain mean for several reasons.

  Neema groaned as she tried to fathom how things had gone left as quickly as they had and how easily she had lost control of a situation she’d been determined to manipulate. Minutes passed as she considered her circumstance and what she should do, feeling like her options were few and far between.

  She reached into her handbag for her cell phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she found the number she needed and dialed. The call went directly to voice mail.

  “Cheryl, this is Neema Kamau. I need a favor, please. Will you call me when you get this message? I need to get my hands on a marriage license. The bride’s name is Ginger Novak. I don’t have a date, but it would have been in the last year. Maybe in the last six months. I’ll owe you one. Thanks.”

  Neema left her cell phone number before disconnecting the call. She whispered a quick prayer that her friend might be in the office on Saturday so that she didn’t have to wait until Monday to get her answer.

  She took another few minutes to decide her next step. Digging back into her purse, she found the business card Davis’s brother had left with her. She needed Mingus’s opinion and she also needed to tell him what she knew. As she dialed, it began to snow, large white flakes settling against the windows.

  * * *

  The home of Jerome and Judith Black was located in the heart of Chicago’s historic Gold Coast neighborhood. It was situated on a large corner lot, the stone-and-brick architecture timeless. As she stood at the front entrance, a solid wood-and-glass door with ornate ironwork, Neema felt her knees shake, threatening to drop her to the ground. She regretted telling Davis she would meet him there, instead of taking up his offer to pick her up so they could ride together. She’d been concerned about not having her own transportation if things didn’t go well after they talked. The prospect of opening up to Davis had her entire body in one tight knot, making dinner with his family seem like a walk in the park.

  As the front door swung open, a wealth of laughter echoed through the interior, dropping into a moment of silence as Davis greeted her.

  “Hey, beautiful!” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. His kiss was warm and welcoming, and her lips trembled beneath his touch.

  She hugged him back, not wanting to let him go. “Hi,” she murmured when they finally parted and he stepped aside so that she could enter the home.

  He reached for her hand, entwining her fingers with his own. “Are you ready for this?” Davis asked. “You’re actually shaking!” He hugged her again.

  “I’m nervous,” Neema admitted. “I want to make a good impression.”

  “You’ll be fine. And right after we eat, you and I can slip away and head back to my house.” He kissed her cheek.

  Neema nodded, the quiver of a smile pulling at her lips.

  “Everyone’s in the family room,” he said as he escorted her along the front foyer and past the formal living room. He took a moment to give her a mini tour, pointing out each room as they passed.

  The interior space was stunning and Neema was awed by the home’s beauty. The comfort and quiet of the family retreat contrasted starkly with the busy Chicago lifestyle on the other side of the front door. The décor imparted an Old World feel with walls papered in silk, sparkling chandeliers, ornate wood moldings and fireplaces painstakingly carved in stone. The windows were draped in sumptuous fabrics and every detail, from the coffered ceilings to the highly polished hardwood floors, had been meticulously selected.

  Davis’s mother met them as they reached the end of the hallway. She was a tall woman, nearly as tall as her son. She had picture-perfect features: high cheekbones, black eyes like dark ice and a buttermilk complexion that needed little if any makeup. She was elegantly dressed in white silk pants and a matching blouse that highlighted her fair skin. Lush, silver-gray hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders. A bright smile blessed her face.

  “Neema, welcome to our home!” she said, giving Neema a warm hug. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Davis made the formal introduction. “Neema Kamau, I’d like you to meet my mother, the Honorable Judith Harmon Black. Judge Black, this is my friend Neema, the woman I’ve been telling you about.”

  Neema tried not to look surprised to discover he’d talked about her with his mother. She smiled brightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Judge Black.”

  “Please, call me Judith. We stand on little formality in this house. Come join us.”

  The matriarch looped her arm through Neema’s and pulled her along. “I can’t begin to tell you how excited I was when Davis told me he was bringing a friend for our family dinner. I actually think you’re the first young woman he has ever brought home for us to meet, now that I think about it!” She tossed her son a look over her shoulder as he followed behind them.

  As the trio moved into the living space, a hushed silence fell over the family, everyone turning to stare.

  “I think you’ve met most of this crowd,” Judith said, “but, just to be sure, let me introduce you.”

  Davis’s father rose from the plush recliner he was sitting in. He extended his hand. “It’s good to see you again, Neema. Welcome to our home.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to see you again, as well.”

  Judith began to point around the room. “That’s Parker and Ellington. Mingus and his wife Joanna. That’s Armstrong’s wife Danni, and Armstrong, of course. And my daughter Vaughan.”

  Neema gave them all a slight wave.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Danni said as she moved to shake Neema’s hand. “And you’re even prettier than the guys said.”

  Neema smiled shyly, feeling her cheeks flushing with heat. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

  �
�It’s okay,” Joanna quipped. “Davis has been gushing every time he talks about you. Welcome to the family!”

  “Thank you,” Neema responded.

  “Where are Simone and Paul?” Davis questioned.

  “We’re not sure they’re going to make it. Morning sickness is getting the best of Simone,” his mother answered. “Paul said if they do come, they’ll be late. We’ll catch her up when we do see her.”

  Davis nodded.

  His mother gestured them to the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable, Neema. I want you to feel at home here,” she said.

  As Davis and Neema took a seat on the oversize sofa, an awkward silence flooded the room, the wealth of it vibrating off the four walls.

  Judith moved to her husband’s side, perching herself on the arm of the chair. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. The gesture seemed protective, and the family that knew them best felt it, as well. Davis shot his siblings a look, each of them admittedly on edge and trying not to show it. As if she sensed the rise in his anxiety, Neema reached for his hand, holding tightly to his fingers between her palms.

  “So, let me start,” Judith said, “by apologizing to Neema for what may come. I’m sure this will not be what you expected when Davis invited you to join us. But for Davis to invite you means that you are very important to him, so we’re all happy to have you with us.” She gave Neema a slight smile then shifted her gaze over each of her children.

  “With everything that’s been going on lately, I appreciate that all of you have continued to lean on each other for support. I can’t tell you how happy that makes your father and me. Don’t ever take the bonds of your relationship for granted. Continue to love each other and, like we have always told you, that love will see you through anything.”

  Jerome pressed his hand to hers, tapping gently. “Your mother is getting all sentimental on us,” he said with a chuckle. “You all know that, for me, it’s about doing what’s right and maintaining your integrity in whatever situation you find yourselves in.”

  “I want to apologize to you both,” Davis said. He shifted forward in his seat. “I had no right to go through your things the way I did. And I never intended to put you on the spot or to back you into a corner. I just wanted to know the truth.”

  Their father nodded slowly, meeting his son’s stare. “Don’t ever do it again,” he said firmly.

  Mingus scoffed. “It would have been our asses if we’d done that. He always gets off light.”

  Armstrong nodded. “That baby child syndrome. He always got off easy.”

  “Because I’m special,” Davis quipped.

  They all laughed, the tension in the room diminishing substantially. Even their father chuckled with them.

  Vaughan finally asked the question that was on all their minds. “Daddy, is Alexander Balducci your biological brother?”

  Jerome took a deep breath and nodded. “He is. He is my half-brother. We share the same father.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell us?” Davis questioned. “We’ve always wondered about your friendship with him. It never crossed any of our minds that you two might be related.”

  Jerome leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands clasped tightly together. Everyone in the room seemed to lean with him in anticipation. “It was complicated. Other people’s decisions really didn’t give us many other options.”

  Jerome stood, moving to the sliding-glass doors that looked out to the rear yard. Everyone’s eyes followed him, staring intently. Neema found him to be stately, his presence almost majestic. When he spoke, she better understood the family dynamics, and why Davis and his siblings were in such awe of the man.

  “Our father was a man named Salvatore Balducci. His family had immigrated here from Italy at the top of the century. My father’s family made their money in the city’s manufacturing sector. The steel industry, making war goods during World War II. Then he and his brothers started bootlegging whiskey. That began their foray into criminal enterprise. My mother’s people came to Chicago during the Great Migration. Her father was a preacher and her mother was a domestic worker.

  “My grandmother worked for the Balducci family. She was one of their housekeepers and she used to take my mother with her to work on occasion when she needed help. That’s how Andrabelle and Salvatore first met. I was told that they were instantly smitten with each other. Your grandmother was stunningly beautiful, and they say he fell head-over-heels in love with her. But he was older and newly married with a pregnant wife.”

  Jerome took a deep breath, holding it briefly before letting it slowly back out. “I don’t know the details of everything that happened, but I do know that the circumstances of my conception, and my birth, destroyed my mother. I was told that whatever occurred between her and Balducci broke her spirit. She wasn’t ever able to come back from it and be a mother.”

  He took another deep breath before continuing. “I only knew my father briefly and only because my grandmother would take me to see him. His wife was not at all happy about my birth, most especially because I was half Black. But Alexander and I were able to play together occasionally.

  “The picture was taken between our sixth birthdays. Alexander had already turned six and I was maybe a month from being six. It was the last time I saw our father alive. My grandmother passed away right after that and my grandfather’s hatred for the Balducci family was such that he refused to have anything to do with them. Since my father made no effort to reach out to me, it was as if he never existed. He died when I was nineteen, and that’s when Alexander and I reconnected. At his funeral. By then, Alexander was fully entrenched in the family business and I was headed to the police academy. We agreed to stay out of each other’s way and neither of us ever spoke about our connection. Until now.”

  Armstrong stood, began to pace the floor. “When Leonard died, it surprised everyone that you two were able to continue your friendship. How did that not break the two of you?”

  “It did to some degree. He was bitter about it for a while. But, bottom line, we were still brothers. He was the first to say that it wasn’t my fault. It was the life Leonard had chosen to live and the risk he’d taken with his lifestyle. Given all that, though, because of who our parents were and the choices they made, Alexander and I have always held each other at arm’s length. His mother hated me and my mother as much as my grandfather hated him and our father. All that hate wasn’t good for any of us. Now, because of our shared history, I don’t see that things between us will ever change. It is what it is.”

  Neema brushed a tear from her eye. Vaughan was weeping openly, the story breaking all their hearts. They all watched as Jerome moved back to his wife’s side to gently kiss her lips. Then he excused himself from the room, fighting to hide his own tears.

  Watching the two, Neema was moved by the wealth of love that embraced them. She squeezed Davis’s hand as she leaned against him, pressing her forehead to his cheek, one arm wrapped around his back as her palm gently caressed him.

  “Wow,” he muttered softly. “Wow.”

  Judith stood. “What your father didn’t say is that his grandfather believed Salvatore Balducci raped his mother.” An edge of anger tainted her harshly spat words. “She would have only been sixteen when it happened. She never recovered from that. Jerome was still a toddler when she took her own life.”

  Neema gasped, pulling her palm to her chest. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered softly, more for Davis than for anyone else.

  He shook his head, still trying to process it all, understanding more than he imagined. “Mom, can I ask you a question?”

  Judith met his gaze. “Yes, Davis?”

  “Is that why you made the decision you did? Were you assaulted, too?” he asked, something in her voice triggering the thought.

  Mingus gave him a glaring look. “Davis! Let. It. Go.”

  “It�
�s okay,” Judith said, holding up her hand. “Nothing is off limits at a family meeting. You know that.” She took a step toward her son. “I was seventeen and a college freshman. I’d been invited to a frat party and someone spiked my drink. I was intoxicated and I didn’t realize what had happened until the next morning. I also didn’t know who my rapist was and, when I found out I was pregnant, it felt like the end of the world.

  “My parents were staunch Catholics, so an abortion was out of the question. So, I had my son and gave him up for adoption. I have never regretted my decision because I think both of our lives would have been very different if I had tried to keep him. Much like your father’s mother, I don’t know if I could have been the mom he deserved, and he’s been blessed with a mother who has loved him unconditionally.”

  Davis stood, moving to give his mother a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he said as she hugged him back.

  There was a moment between them that all the family felt blessed to be privy to, sensing the embrace was for them all. Neema swiped a tear from her eye, thankful that Davis and his parents had allowed her to stay.

  Jerome came back into the room. “You all need to wrap up this pity party,” he said as he slid a box of tissues into Vaughan’s hands and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m hungry. And your mother made chocolate cake for dessert. I’m ready to eat.”

  “Me, too!” Parker exclaimed. “Past ready.”

  “Then let me go serve the food,” Judith said as she gave Davis one last squeeze and headed for the dining room. “You all come grab a seat.”

  * * *

  A handful of questions kept everyone focused on their family lineage through the appetizer. Davis’s parents answering them readily, their honesty and willingness to be vulnerable impressive.

  By the time the entrée was served, the conversation had shifted to Davis’s case. Between the entrée and dessert, the family was sharing stories about the young alderman, laughter filling the home as they took Neema down memory lane. She enjoyed getting to know them and allowing them to know her. She instinctively knew she and Joanna could easily be friends and she had much respect for Danni and her career choices. They all welcomed her with open arms and in no time at all she felt like one of the family, which brought her and Davis both immense joy.