Wait for Me (18 page)

He'd seen firsthand his father's ruthless nature under the temptation of money. Underestimating, the man’s greed could end his life. Brian stopped at nothing for the all mighty dollar.

“So you met Morgan before this weekend?

He raised his eyes to see his cousin. "In the States. A celebration for Kenya's promotion. I showed up, surprised her, and got a tame glimpse of Morgan's ugly side. Whatever the hell that was today, broke my woman's heart. Brian will pay for Kenya's pain." Jonathan tightened the small dagger to his hip belt, watching the men move about the space, preparing to back him taking on his father for his estate.

“Sounds like the woman already knew Brian and was trying to scare Kenya away for yer dear father, cousin. This Morgan is more dangerous than we know. She’s a female, Uncle,” Jamie said.

“Jonathan,” Seamus said over the room of men strapping guns to their person. “I’ll ask you again. How close are you to marrying this woman?”

“Grandfather, who wants to be a part of this family after this,” Jonathan asked sarcastically, unlocking the secret door in the vault. Kenya would either stay or run away. This decision had to be hers.

“Ask her. I watched this woman with Fiona in the pub and I must tell ye, me chest swelled seeing her handle me fiery granddaughter. Not even the women of the surrounding towns dare wrestle with Fiona. The woman can hold her own. And before you fight me, the woman has financial relationships we could nae acquire without buying them through blackmail or takeovers.”

Running a hand done over his face, he moved through the secret tunnel with his men. The long dark passage led straight toward Brian’s cabin. Jonathan touched the gun at his back as he listened to his men passing conversations back and forth about the deceit his father moved through the surrounding countryside in his absence.

“Rick, you’ve spoken with the fisheries flanking the estate,” Jonathan started, peering down the side tunnels as they passed in the dimly lit space. “Who approached them about the new farmers market going up in town?”

“Aye, Glascow on the ridge says it came from the estate. I checked the paper me self. It’s from the estate. The same thick pale paper our pay remittals are printed on. It looks all official, Jonathan.”

“Any construction started on the building?”

“Surveyors been down, marking out with the neon paint. It’s in a grand location, close for the farmers to not have to come so far to set up on the weekends.”

“Son,” Seamus said behind Jonathan. “Your father keeps it armed around his cabins. Says the rangers you posted don’t come up far enough for him, but I know it’s because he’s been looking into setting up a pub on the other end.”

Jonathan could hear voices on the far end of the tunnel as they approached the end of the property. Two of his men ran up further securing the exit on the other end as they stepped through the dimly lit tunnel. Brian didn’t know about the tunnel and Jonathan would use it to his advantage. They slipped out into the wooded area around Brian's cabin and surprised two of his guards. Carrying them off toward the other end, two of his men moved into the darkness.

Seamus came up behind him.

"Grandfather, stay back. Let me handle Brian, you shouldn't have to bear the burden of what Brian will force one of us to do."

"It’s a shameful day when a man goes gunning for his son. Brian's abused this family long enough and I cannot sit by while he kills off the next generation for greed."

"Let's go," Jonathan said as the men filed out and he kept Seamus at his back. Gun in hand he wanted to talk, but they’ve been interrupted earlier one of them would be dead. Pressing a hand to Seamus shoulder, he held him back as he watched his men take out the other three guards. Gunshots rang out after he called for them to stand down. 

Jonathan shoved Seamus to the ground as a shot rang out overhead. "Get him back to the tunnel," he said.

"Nae you're no gonna fight this alone. My family created this to punish the McGhee’s and now Sophie will pay the price. This is my fight for our family, Jonathan."

"I'm fighting for all of us."

"You have a woman now. Don’t be a hero."

Bullets whizzed through the woods ricocheting. Jonathan shoved Seamus to the ground and pressed his back to the tree. Returning fire, he shot at the cabin's window.

"Och!" Jonathan jerked around, body locking as Seamus's form came into view…curled on the ground writhing. 

"Get an ambulance up here now!" He hollered back to his men and dropped down over Seamus, slipping a hand between his head and the ground feeling for the wound. "You're okay, hang on, doona worry. I'll take care of our family," searching Seamus's body, he ran his hand over his chest praying he didn’t feel anything wet. He moved down over past his belt and froze as he found what he hoped he wouldn’t, blood. Jamie fell to the ground beside him. They shared a look in the light filtering through the trees. He pressed his mouth to his grandfather's forehead setting his mind to one task, charging the cabin.

Chapter Nine

The only way she'd get through this was to talk. She wrung her hands pacing, wearing out a path in the carpeted floor. What could she say to provoke Sophie to tell her where the tunnel led? If it went to the vault, she could meet him there.
And do what, run into Brian and his goons? Come on Kenya think
.

“Why is Fiona against me being here, but Seamus, Gran, and Jamie are on my side?”

Sophie worked the thick, red locks back over her shoulders.

“Seamus believes you will bring a respectable financial light to the family. You represent the ethnic dollar the inn can’t seem to attract, although Ireland tries to bridge the gap between itself and Nigeria that’s always kept our countries apart. If that offends you…”

“Is that Jonathan’s wish as well?”

“Nae, me son has his heart set on you for more personal reasons, lass. Outside of his wants, word has already circulated that Jonathan’s bringing an African American woman to the estates. This in itself has resulted in inquiries into tours and tour group packages for the castle."

"And you'd approve tour groups in the castle?"

"It would be voted on by the family and shareholders; the castle is a business as well as a home."

"It's a beautiful area, so close to the Atlantic. I don’t know, Sophie," Kenya muttered, torn knowing they needed her.

"Did yer no see the paper in the pub when ye arrived?”

“Paper?” Picturing the pub corridor, she could only remember how cozy it felt in front of the fireplace and the massive bar, not any papers.

“Inside Magazine. It’s trying to bridge the division between Ireland and Africa.”

“Me and Jonathan represent the future of the two countries?”

“Aye, to a degree. Me son would no tell ye that.”

“My sister just placed a bruise on my family by siding with Brian. Sophie, I have no problem supporting the inn as a welcoming business and tourist spot, but this other mess I can't support or be a part of. While we're chatting about tour packages, Jonathan's somewhere is dodging bullets.”

A knock echoed from the door of the suite. She shot to her feet. She and Sophie hurried to the living space of the suite and Kenya snatched the door open, not asking who was on the other side. 

“Carl,” she said, saddened it wasn’t Jonathan, but he wouldn’t have knocked. “Carl, what’s wrong? What happened? Is Jonathan okay?”

“Kenya, yes Jonathan asked that you wait here,” he said, turning his attention to Sophie. “Sophie, you have a call in the office downstairs.”

“She can take it up here,” Kenya said.

“The office phone is not connected to the inn’s system,” Sophie informed her. “I’ll go down and take it.”

As the door closed, Kenya crossed the room and sank onto the sofa in the window. She tried focusing on the river and not wring the skin from her hands waiting to hear from Jonathan. She angled the blanket from the back over her, this time she let Judge up on the sofa with her and let him curl next to her beside her hip. Facing the back of the thick cushioned sofa, she watched the door, waiting to see the handle move and drifted off in a fitful sleep.

Kenya felt a hand smoothing over her head. She shot up seeing Jonathan. Judge yelped as she bolted over the sofa into his arms. Her legs wound around his waist. Jonathan stumbled back from her attack but returned her manic hugs.

“I’m all right, baby…it’s okay, Shhh…” rocking her in his arms. “Kenya sweetheart, stop shaking, baby, I’m here.”

She gulped back her tears. Stop shaking? How was she supposed to do that when there had been blood on the ground. Tears rolled across her lips as she angled back to kiss him, the moisture pressed between their mouths. She crossed her ankles gripping his hips needing to feel his heartbeat trying to get as close as possible. Judge bounded across the room the sofa caught her back as Jonathan eased them down. Looking up into the most handsome face she’d ever seen in her life, she wiggled her hips until he lay snug between her thighs.

“What am I getting involved with, Jonathan? Whose blood did I see poured on the ground at the farm?” she asked, running her hands along his biceps, up to his face imprinting his features in her hand.

“You’re involved with me.” He pushed her shirt up, closing his hand over her ribs. He walked the pads of his fingers over her skin eliciting a quick jerk from hers. She compressed lips refusing to smile. “The blood belonged to Brian’s flunky.”

“Who shot him?”

“I'm handling it,” he informed her, holding her hand kissing her knuckles. Seeing blotches of red staining his hand, Kenya went still.

“And whose blood is that?” Gripping his wrist suspiciously, her eyes darted from the dry blood to his face. 

“Stay here. It’ll only take five minutes to get cleaned up.” He pushed off the sofa to stand and Kenya rolled into the dip of the cushion. Dirt and blood stained clothes hit the floor as Jonathan peeled them off stalking out of the living room into the bathroom. Angled up on elbow she dropped her head back, let out the deep sigh she held from waiting all that time with Sophie to hear he was still alive. A sense of loss, then panic coursed through her as he disappeared around the wall. Freaked out she fumbled with the blanket getting to her feet. Past his rumbled clothes on the floor, she hurried through the bedroom into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, she eyed his large outline in the shower behind the glass door and fought the zipper on her torn jeans, shoving the material down her hips in a hurried manic motion. Her breathing came in labored gulps as she worked the sweater and bra over her head dropping them to land on the closed toilet lid. Wriggling the panties from her body, she stepped out of them, flicking them with her toes. Kenya gripped the edge of the glass door, tears streaming down her face. Chest heaving, she trembled staring at Jonathan under the shower of water. Faint pink stained the water around his feet and she about fainted. Her gaze slid up his body and a long slash ran the length of his back. Blood rinsed down over his hip, pooling around his feet.

Jonathan lurched and grabbed her to his chest, pulling them beneath the stream of hot water.

"I'm okay, baby…shh…" he assured rocking her in his arms and Kenya burrowed against his body. "You're beautiful, Mo Ru’n. I know this is hard for you, but it’s a part of my life.”

“How did you get cut, Jonathan?”

“Kenya let me hold you.”

She grazed her fingers along the gash down his skin, turning him to get a better look at it.

“You want me not to notice this Jonathan? Are you serious?” She heard the quiver in her voice as she grabbed the sponge, wiping the fresh blood on his skin. “Lean toward the wall.”

His hands flattened along the tile. The movement caused the injury to weep.

“At least, the flow has slowed. It’s getting lighter.” The blood flow slowed as she wiped down his skin with the sponge. Jonathan turned and held her to his chest.

“Babe, I have to go back out.”

She froze. The sponge plopped in the water pooling at her feet.

“I have to check on someone, and then I’ll be back tonight.”

She blinked up at him under the rush of warm water splashing over his shoulders, splattering over her face. “Check on someone…” She locked eyes with him. “What is that a code for kill? Maim? Avenge? What, Jonathan?”

He blew out a tight breath and massaged up the nape of her neck, fisting her thick hair. “No code, Kenya. I’m just what you witnessed today a man taking care of his family. However the situation calls for me to do that.”

She gasped as his hand dropped, gripping her thighs lifting her off the shower floor. The cool tile prickled along her back as he pinned her to the wall. Crossing her ankles over his behind, she tucked her heels into the tight muscles of his firm butt.

Reaching over his shoulder she gently stole her hand over the cut, down his back. Jonathan sucked in a breath as she eyed the smear of pink coating her palm. “I’m supposed to look past this as a form of you taking care of your family?” she argued, salty tears sliding into her mouth.

Reaching between them opening her soaked body over him prodding at her slick and swollen flesh, Jonathan said, “You wanna challenge the way I protect you, Kenya, or the way I protect those in my life?” He pushed inside her body, slow and controlled her jaw went slack behind the drugging sensation and hearing his declaration.

“I want you safe,” she said, shuddering behind his hips driving into her. Drowning in his danger, she fought the tears building under her heartache. Seeing a gun pointed at his ribs earlier scared her, but the gun holstered under his arms did something altogether wrong to her. It aroused her. Slick from the soap their bodies smacked against the others. Hungry, afraid, scared…pissed. Pictures of the cold steel’s muzzle pressed to Brian’s temple and Jonathan’s fingers gripped around the handle filled her mind.

Fear snaked through her joints, crying through her skin. Kenya braced her hands around his shoulders, riding him harder. He could have died. She made love to the man brandishing that weapon. She loved a gangster.

“Look at me, Kenya.” She fisted his hair, her fingers deep in his thick mane. “Relax…like that…,” he continued rocking his hips and her mouth went slack as she rode out his controlled strokes pumping into her. His movements were slow, purposeful…yet different. He was making love to her as if it were the last time.