Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021

by Anna J. Stewart

  The ease with which the conversation shifted, and everyone’s mood followed, was a model for what more families needed to practice. From where Neema sat, she felt like the Black family had mastered the art of self-irony, being able to laugh at themselves even when things seemed difficult. Their camaraderie and ability to engage with one another was inspiring. She better understood why Davis worried so incessantly about his parents and siblings, the depths of their love for each other undeniable.

  She turned in her seat, staring as he wiped a cloth napkin across his full lips. Joy rained over him. There was an air of comfort that elevated the muscles in his face, his smile wide and full. Catching his eye, she gave him a bright smile and he bowed to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  “You okay?” he whispered, his gaze shifting back and forth across her face.

  Neema nodded. “I’m really good. I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  “I’m good, too. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “My mother likes you, and it was important to me that you two get to know each other.”

  “I really like her. Your mother is very sweet, and I love your family.”

  Davis kissed her cheek a second time.

  “You boys are on dish duty,” Judith commanded from her seat at the end of the table.

  Davis rose and began to help his brothers clear the table.

  Judith gestured in Neema’s direction. “Did you get enough to eat, Neema? There’s plenty more if you want seconds.”

  “Thank you, Judith. But I couldn’t eat another bite. If I did, you’d have to roll me out of here. But it was all delicious.” And it had been, Neema thought. The matriarch had served them a pear and kale salad, roast pork with stewed apples, grilled asparagus, glazed carrots, garlic mashed potatoes and the most decadent chocolate cake with a raspberry filling, topped with a chocolate ganache. It had been so good that Neema had overeaten.

  “We appreciate you supporting Davis the way you have, Neema. He speaks quite fondly of you,” Judith said.

  “He’s become very important to me,” Neema responded.

  “And it seems that you’re important to him,” Vaughan interjected. “So, I know you can appreciate our concern about his privacy being protected. Most especially because of his political aspirations. You being invited to our family meeting makes him vulnerable if anything that was shared with you were to be made public.”

  “That would never happen,” Neema said firmly. “I would never think to disrespect Davis, or any of you like that.”

  “So, you’d be willing to sign a nondisclosure agreement?”

  “What are you all talking about?” Davis said, coming back into the room. “Please tell me you are not giving Neema a hard time, Vaughan.”

  Vaughan shot him an exasperated eye roll. “Neema is an intelligent adult and perfectly capable of holding her own with all of us in this room.”

  “I know that’s right!” Joanna decreed as she gave Neema a wink.

  “Are you about ready to head out?” Davis asked, turning his attention back to Neema.

  “You aren’t rushing off, are you?” his mother questioned.

  “Neema and I were still talking,” Vaughan persisted.

  Before either could answer, Simone suddenly made an entrance, sweeping into the house like a storm wind. Her husband, Paul, followed on her heels, his expression telling as he gave them all a look.

  Ignoring the family who greeted her, Simone moved straight to the empty seat directly across from Neema’s. The expression on her face was venomous and Neema instinctively knew that what was coming would not be pretty.

  Davis suddenly stepped up directly behind her, his hands pressing gently against her shoulders. His instincts had sent him into protective overdrive, the gesture shielding. Neema was grateful for his touch but knew it wouldn’t last long.

  “What’s wrong, Simone?” Judith questioned.

  “Neema is a reporter,” Simone said loudly, her eyes locked on Neema’s face. “Did you know your new girlfriend is a reporter for the Chicago Tribune, Davis? Because if you did, you should have told us.”

  “What are you talking about, Simone? Neema’s not—” Davis started.

  “Yes, she is,” Simone said, cutting her brother off. “I told you I knew her from somewhere and then it came to me. That Women’s Empowerment seminar I did last year? Neema was reporting on the event for the newspaper. A quick Google search confirmed that not only is she a reporter but, and I quote ‘she’s an award-winning journalist known to get stories others find problematic’ unquote.”

  Neema dropped her eyes to the table unable to fathom how the tide had turned on her so quickly. The whole family had joined Simone in the dining room, and everyone was now staring at her. The once jovial mood had deflated, replaced by something dark and uncertain. If only they’d had thirty more minutes, then she and Davis would have been headed to his house to have this conversation in private. Thirty more minutes and she wouldn’t have been under the scrutiny of his family, feeling like a pariah in their midst.

  Davis took a step back as Neema turned, lifting her gaze to his. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

  Davis blinked, shock blanketing his expression. “You’re a reporter?”

  “You didn’t want him to find out at all, did you?” Simone snapped. “At least not until you got all the dirt you needed, right? Was that your plan from the start? Integrate yourself into my brother’s life and try to take down our family from the inside?”

  Neema shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like... I...it’s...” she stammered, searching for the words to explain herself.

  “Why should anyone believe you? You’ve been lying since we met you.” Simone’s voice had risen a few octaves.

  “Simone, that’s enough,” their mother admonished.

  “You need to calm down, Simone,” Jerome implored. “You getting your blood pressure up is not good for the baby.”

  The family patriarch stepped closer to Davis. “Did you know about this, son?” he asked.

  Davis shook his head. The color had drained from his face and he looked like he’d been hit by a train. He had begun to perspire, sweat beading across his brow. Blindsided didn’t begin to define how he suddenly felt. He didn’t have the words to express the heartbreak. “No,” he finally whispered. “I didn’t.”

  Neema was still staring at him. “It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” she said. “What I had hoped to discuss with you later.” She reached her hand out, pressing her fingers to his chest. Davis took another step back, bristling beneath her touch.

  “Trying to tell him? Humph!” Simone scoffed. “That’s rich!”

  “Damn, Simone! Do you have to be so mean?” Parker snapped.

  “I’m being honest,” Simone barked. “Clearly, something our esteemed guest here knows nothing about.”

  “Shut up, Simone,” Davis stormed.

  “Everybody take a breath,” Jerome said. “We need to give Davis and Neema some privacy.”

  “I haven’t eaten,” Simone muttered.

  “Then head to the kitchen,” her mother commanded. “But your brother doesn’t need any more of your comments.”

  “He should be glad I’m looking out for him.”

  “Shut up, Simone,” the siblings all ranted at the same time.

  Neema and Davis watched as Simone rose from her seat, tossing them both one last look. I’m sorry, she mouthed to her brother before glaring at Neema one last time.

  * * *

  Minutes later, the quiet in the room was suffocating. Davis was still trying to process the news, feeling like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Neema still hadn’t said anything that made any sense to him, and he wasn’t sure he even had
the stomach to ask the hard questions he now needed answers to.

  “You’re really a reporter?” he finally said. “Was Simone telling the truth?”

  Neema nodded. “I am. My degree was in investigative journalism and I’ve been with the Chicago Tribune for a few years now.”

  “Why would you not tell me something like that, Neema?”

  “It’s complicated, Davis. Then, when I did try to tell you, it was always the wrong time, the wrong mood, or I was just scared.”

  Davis shook his head. “That first time we went out, were you planning to write a story about me, or my family? Was that your intention?”

  Neema took a breath, closing her eyes briefly before she met his gaze again. “I’d seen the envelope exchange between you and Balducci that night at the restaurant and I thought there might be a story there. That you might be on the take.”

  “So, this has never been about me. Or about us.”

  “That’s not true. When I realized I was wrong, all I wanted was to get to know you better. I wasn’t expecting our relationship to evolve the way it did. But as we grew closer, it’s been all about us.”

  “I honestly don’t know what to think,” Davis said. “I trusted you.”

  “Please, let’s just go to your place to talk about it. I want you to understand what happened and why. And it’s important to me that you know just how much I care about you.”

  “Care about me? If you cared about me, you would have told me the truth.”

  “Do you think I haven’t tried? That I knew we couldn’t take things any further until you knew the truth? I’ve tried a few times to tell you.”

  “Obviously you didn’t try hard enough.” His words, wrapped in barbed wire, were bitter against his tongue. As he spat them out, Neema felt each like a targeted slap.

  She gasped. Loudly. “I’m so sorry, Davis.”

  Davis heard the words but found himself questioning their truth. He was numb. His emotions having overloaded and exploded, left him feeling broken. He was past ready for it to all be over, wanted to find a way to escape all that was happening. “I’m sorry, too, Neema. Right now, though, I think you need to leave.”

  “Please, I want you to understand—”

  “Now!” he said, his voice rising. “You need to leave now. There’s nothing else we need to say to each other. I want you out of my parents’ home now.”

  A tear rolled down Neema’s face, her eyes misting with regrettable sadness. She knew there was no advantage to arguing her point. Davis wasn’t ready to hear her. Pushing to her feet, she gave him one last look and exited the room.

  * * *

  Judith Black stood in the foyer of her home, her arms crossed at her chest. Lost in thought, it wasn’t until Neema reached the woman’s side that she realized she was not alone.

  Neema forced the slightest smile to her face as she approached Davis’s mother. “Thank you for dinner, Judge Black. And I am so sorry. I want to reassure you that anything shared with me about your family will never be shared with anyone else. I would never divulge what I heard or betray your family’s privacy. Never!”

  “I appreciate you saying that, Neema. But I wasn’t concerned. Davis is a good judge of character. I’m sure, once he’s past the shock of it all, he’ll remember why he was drawn to you in the first place. Watching the two of you together, I can see that there’s something pretty special between you.”

  “I feel horrible. I never meant for this to get out of hand or for Davis to be hurt by my actions.” Her tears began to drop a second time.

  Judith tugged Neema into a comforting hug. “Give him some time. I’m sure it’ll all work out once you two are able to talk things through.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Neema said softly. “He’s really angry with me.”

  “He’s disappointed right now. And he has every reason to be. But if you two are meant to be together, you’ll get past this. It may just take some time.” Judith reached to open the front door.

  “Thank you,” Neema said as she stepped over the threshold. “Thank you for your kindness.”

  “You take care of yourself, dear,” Judith said and then she shut the door.

  CHAPTER 16

  Davis had paced the floor for a good ten minutes before dropping down into a dining room chair. His head hurt and, for a brief moment, he wanted to rage. He couldn’t begin to understand what had just happened, but he felt like his entire life had blown up into flames.

  For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how he’d been so wrong about Neema. Neema who made him laugh. Neema who listened to him. Neema who always knew what to say and when to say it. Neema who had stolen his heart and placed her claim on his soul. Now, she was Neema the reporter, who had only been working him for a story. How in hell had he missed that?

  He was rewinding every conversation he and Neema had ever had. Trying to figure out when everything that had felt right had gone left. As he sat there, he felt lost, unable to comprehend how he had missed the clues, if there had even been clues. When his brothers entered the room, joining him at the table, he still had no tangible answers that made any sense.

  “You okay?” Ellington asked, sliding a bottle of Budweiser toward his brother.

  Davis shrugged. “She played me.”

  “That woman loves you,” Mingus said. “And you love her.”

  “Love? I don’t think so.”

  Armstrong laughed. “If it wasn’t love, you wouldn’t be feeling like you’ve been hit with a sledgehammer.”

  “Or looking like you just lost your favorite puppy!” Parker quipped.

  “Y’all don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t love her?” Mingus questioned.

  “She played me!” Davis repeated emphatically.

  “She was helping me with your case,” Mingus said matter-of-factly. “She’s got some serious contacts. Her informant list is almost as long as my own.”

  Davis’s head snapped as he turned to stare at Mingus. “You knew?”

  Mingus nodded. “Yeah, I knew.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Armstrong asked.

  “Because she said she was going to tell him and I believed her,” Mingus said, answering the question. He turned back to Davis. “She didn’t want there to be secrets between you.”

  “Leave it to Simone to spoil a surprise,” Ellington said facetiously.

  “I thought marriage and pregnancy would have reined her in. Instead it looks like it just ramped her up,” Parker said.

  “Your sister is psychotic,” Davis gibed.

  “Like she’s not your sister. And you being her favorite brother, too!” Parker responded.

  “You can always trust Simone to gaslight you at the most imperfect moment. She’s actually made it an art form.” Mingus chuckled.

  “So, how long have you known?” Davis asked, shooting Mingus a look.

  “Since that night you asked me what I thought about her.”

  “You ran a background check?”

  “Better safe than sorry. Then I confronted her, and I liked her answers. More importantly, I believed her. I think Neema’s good people. I also think this situation just got away from her. She was looking for the perfect time to tell you, and we all know there is never a perfect time.”

  “I can’t trust her,” Davis answered.

  “Then trust your feelings,” Armstrong said. “Your gut instincts are why your pursued her in the first place.”

  “And why you fell in love with her,” Mingus added.

  Davis shrugged again, adding their comments to the thoughts spinning through his head. Who said anything about love? he thought to himself.

  “Mingus, you said she was helping with Davis’s case,” Parker noted. “Did she come up with anything?”

&nbs
p; “Yeah, she did. You may want to bring Ginger in for questioning,” Mingus said. He shared what Neema had learned about the so-called witness and her connection to the redhead.

  “Hold on a sec,” Armstrong said, rising from his seat. He went to the door and called for his wife.

  A minute later, Danielle Winstead Black poked her head into the room. “You called?”

  Armstrong gestured for her to join them. “We need your expertise.” He gave her a wink of his eye.

  Looking more like a kindergarten teacher than a decorated police officer, Danielle—affectionately known as Danni to family and friends—was a force to be reckoned with. One of the best detectives on the Chicago force, her youthful appearance belied her experience and ability.

  Her bright smile endearing, she gave Davis a comforting look as she entered. “Everything okay in here? We were starting to worry.”

  Armstrong shrugged. “Davis’s feeling are hurt, but it’s all good.”

  Davis rolled his eyes as his brother continued.

  “Mingus thinks your girl Ginger is somehow involved in Davis’s case and Gaia’s death. You know her well. Do you think she could have had anything to do with it?”

  “Anything’s possible with Ginger. She’s all about self-preservation. I wouldn’t put anything past her. But isn’t she still working for Balducci? Because she was super-protective of Pie.”

  Davis looked confused, thinking back to the man who’d been playing video games with Gaia’s son. “Protective of him? Why?”

  “He only has the mental and emotional capacity of a twelve-year-old. For the most part he’s a big kid in an adult body. But he’s easily frustrated and was prone to violence against women. Ginger is one of the few people he responds to. His grandfather keeps her on the payroll to keep a tight rein on him.”