King of Devon Read online

  The newcomer, who resembled the jaybird, splayed a hand across her heaving chest, saying, “I tried to get up here as fast as I could.”

  “What is going on here,” Marilyn screamed, hands balling into fists so tight a fingernail was trying to make an exit stage left.

  Hiram wished he could scream, too. Everything he was building with a woman who had embraced him, even with his past, was crumbling on a lie. And he didn’t understand why it was being directed his way. “And put some damn clothes on,” she roared. Marilyn’s creamy skin flushed to pink and her hazel-green eyes flashed fire.

  The naked one didn’t budge from where she stood between the sofa and the center table. Instead, she inched her red-manicured hands to her hips. All sass and no class.

  Oh, that one has a pair of balls that could rattle someone’s cage. Hopefully her lies don’t rattle mine.

  “Daddy promised her some money if she managed to seduce him.” The other female folded both arms and nodded in Hiram’s direction.

  Daddy? The delicate features of the newcomer indicated she was Marilyn’s oldest daughter.

  The naked one stiffened and glared at her sister, who didn’t back down. Whoever she was, Hiram was grateful for the truth coming to light. Now maybe they could make sense of these shenanigans and get the bold one into some clothes and out of his house. This scenario also explained how Marilyn’s key to his place had come up missing a few days ago. Then it mysteriously reappeared in his mailbox last night which neither of them could figure out.

  Marilyn blinked several times to clear her vision. “What did you say, Crystal?”

  “Daddy orchestrated this mess,” she clarified before turning her attention to Hiram, giving him a not-quite-disdainful once-over that sent a shiver of unease up his spine. “He can’t live with the fact that you’ve moved on.”

  Evidently, Marilyn’s daughters couldn’t either, if the oldest one’s expression told the story.

  “And he did this?” Marilyn asked. Her eyes cut to the youngest, who folded her arms across a pair of breasts that were obviously the work of a surgeon’s knife. She was so enthralled with her own body, she still didn’t feel the need to cover up. Or maybe she’d bought so far into this charade that she wanted to make the lie more believable—a woman who had just slept with a man and wasn’t nearly as embarrassed by being caught in a compromising position as she should be.

  Suddenly, it would mean a six-foot-three-inch, muscle-bound male wearing a floral silk robe wasn’t quite the picture that was presented when he first emerged from his bedroom.

  “It’s not because he wants me back,” Marilyn mused. “It’s because he doesn’t want me to be happy.” She crossed the distance from the entryway, passing the easel and tattoo bench situated near the window until she stood directly in front of the liar of the family. “What the hell did you do?”

  Head lowered, she stuttered, “I—I … I.”

  “Tell the truth, Wanda,” Marilyn snapped, causing her to flinch.

  Wanda inched back and squeaked like a petulant child. “I need that money.” Then her bravado returned and she glowered at her mother as though she was the reason her bank account was coming up snake eyes and she had crapped out. “You wouldn’t help me, so I had to help myself.”

  Though he was certain those words hurt Marilyn, they didn’t give him a sense of relief. An entire theater-style drama had played out in no time. The lie was laid and had been disputed, all in a span of—he checked his watch—five minutes. Last thought in his mind was the way Marilyn had put it on him before he passed out for a good spell of sleep. Now he considered how much more her ex would impact their lives. If he was willing to use his daughter in such a blatant way, it meant the man had some deep issues. Had Victor done something to his daughter that Marilyn wasn’t aware of or wasn’t admitting?

  “So, you would help a man, who hasn’t loved me from day one, to break up my new relationship because you couldn’t figure out your life without his money?” She jabbed an index finger in her daughter’s chest. “How selfish of you.”

  Marilyn snatched up a throw from the sofa and tossed it to Wanda before turning a sorrowful gaze toward Hiram. “I’m sorry there was even room for doubt in my mind. The one thing he ...” She gestured to Hiram. “hasn’t done, is hurt me. But you have this unhealthy attachment to Victor, Wanda, and God forbid, he checks out of here. What’s going to happen when you actually have to do the adult thing and get a life?”

  “You don’t care about me,” Wanda sobbed into the soft material bunched in her hands. “You let those people almost put me out of my house, the lights and gas got turned—”

  “You went on a girls’ trip to Essence Festival. You knew you were skating on a ten-day notice. Not to mention your utilities were about to be shut off. I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “I told you to—”

  “You told me,” Marilyn shot back, waggling a finger in her daughter’s face. “You didn’t ask me a damn thing.”

  Crystal nodded, then shrugged and took a seat on the leather ottoman. All she needed was popcorn to complete the scenario.

  “And between me, you, and the wiretappers, I thought it was high time you learned a lesson about priorities.” Marilyn flicked an index finger in the air. “Rent comes before pleasure trips.” Another finger went up. “Light bill comes before designer purses.” Yet another finger. “Gas comes before nights out at fancy restaurants.” All four fingers now. “And gratitude comes right after someone has done everything in their power to cover your ass. You don’t seem to know any of that, despite having a degree in business management.”

  “But you gave Crystal a down payment for her new house,” she protested, throwing a scathing glance at her sister who wore a neutral expression.

  “Yes, I do help people who are at least trying to help themselves,” Marilyn countered. “Why would I keep throwing money your way when it doesn’t do you any good? Yet, you’re all up in my business about what I need to be doing. Telling me to get my life together when you don’t know the first thing about managing yours.”

  Marilyn cupped her hands about Wanda’s face. “You know, my grandmother once told me a humorous story and I didn’t understand it until now.”

  Hiram perched on the arm of the sofa, a few inches from Crystal who perked up. Marilyn sharing something funny was a new one on him. Evidently, for the oldest one, too. As a woman who had worked for a state department for twenty years, Marilyn was as serious as eating Frosted Mini-Wheats without milk.

  Listen closely, so you’ll learn a little something.

  “A buzzard and a vulture were sitting on a fence. The vulture decides to school the buzzard on that bird life. ‘You’re not living life right. You’re always eating things when they’re way past dead. You have to eat them when they’re still alive; the blood’s still pumping, and they’re still slightly breathing. See,’—he points to a mouse running across the field and says, ‘watch this. Let me show you how it’s done.’ So, he flies down, swoops and turns, does a one-eighty. Just as he’s about to grab that mouse in his claw-BAM!” Marilyn slapped one hand against the other, causing everyone in the living room to flinch. “He slams hard into the fence and falls out. He’s stretched out there for several moments before his friend on the fence realizes he’s dying. The buzzard stretches, yawns and says, “Well, let me go show this smart ass muthafucka how it’s done.”

  While Marilyn had told the story with a straight face, it took everything inside Hiram not to burst out laughing. Crystal didn’t bother to try. She let it rip and Wanda turned red.

  “So, let me show your little smart ass a thing or two.” Marilyn walked toward the front door and yanked it open. “No weapon formed against me shall prosper. Even if it’s my own daughter.” Her voice cracked and she gestured to the other side of the threshold. “Get the hell out of my house. Correction—his house. Do not ever set foot in this—or my place again.”

  Wanda finally recovered from
the shock and moved toward the door. She snatched up another throw—his favorite—along the way.

  “And tell your daddy you failed,” Marilyn said, causing Wanda to pause mid-step. “Failed at trying to destroy the best thing that’s happened to me since I gave birth to both of you. You failed at trying to take this little slice of happiness from me.” Then she wiped away a tear with the back of a trembling hand. “Let’s see how your daddy will take that.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “Aren’t you under investigation as one of the men who might have impregnated her?”

  Equipment beeped, filling the silence while the nurses gasped at the staunch accusation from Dr. Christian that swirled around them.

  Jai barely held onto his ability to remain civil with a man who would throw something as ugly as that out there in the open. Eyes narrowed, he fisted one hand.

  Nurse Jennifer’s caramel skin flushed red. She sprinted around the bed, planted herself between Jai and Dr. Christian to keep him from throwing that well-deserved punch.

  “Doctor—”

  “My apologies.” Dr. Christian held up a weathered hand to ward off any further discussion, then massaged his temples before letting out a long, weary sigh. “That, too, was uncalled for.”

  Jai took a deep breath and mentally told his anger to stay put.

  Nurse Jennifer looked over her shoulder at him and raised a questioning brow.

  He nodded, and only then did her shoulders slump as she relaxed. She stayed in place, as if she knew Dr. Christian would make another blunder that could land him on the wrong end of a can of whoop ass.

  “You have to be aware that the care her body will need after a C-section is much more involved than a vaginal delivery,” Jai said in the calmest tone he could manage.

  Dr. Christian threaded his fingers through the whisper-thin hair that barely covered the top of his head. “You’re acting as though she’s an active participant in this endeavor. You do realize that there’s a great possibility she will die from this, don’t you?”

  “Not if you go into it with the better possibility that she will live.” Jai gripped the bed’s railing and Nurse Jennifer placed a hand over his. “I repeat. Do not cut her unless she or the baby is in danger. Understand?”

  All these years, Jaidev had held fast to what he’d learned from a book Khalil Germaine had given him in his last year of high school. The Miracle Man: An Inspiring Story of Motivation and Courage. The autobiography told of Morris E. Goodman’s recovery from a plane crash which left him paralyzed and unable to move, breathe, talk, or swallow. The man’s inner determination led him through a series of surgeries and rehabs that ultimately had him walking out of the hospital a whole man who could tell of his triumph.

  The story alone led Jai to research and compare tragic physical experiences along with the mental and spiritual connection in healing. He studied everything from ancient healing practices, Reiki, holistic medicine from all cultures, especially Africa, First Nation, East India, and Asian. His approach to, and success with, medicine in this manner had been a bone of contention between the medical industry and doctors who only wanted to hold ground with outdated methods. Ones like this very doctor who would dismiss the fact that Temple had been surviving quite well under Jai’s care. Birthing this child didn’t have to change that status.

  “Dr. Christian,” Nurse Jennifer called as the other nurse’s expressions went from calm to shock. “Dr. Christian.”

  “Yes,” he snapped, still focused on Jai who hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Your argument is no longer valid,” Nurse Jennifer said, gesturing to the lower area of Temple’s body.

  Dr. Christian rounded the nurses and came to the opposite end of the bed.

  “The baby is crowning,” she said, louder than necessary.

  The words filled Jai with more relief than he thought possible.

  Temple’s body was taking over the process of bringing her little one into the world.

  “Well, there’s that,” Dr. Christian said in a dry tone, frustration etched on his face as he scrambled to get into position to deliver the baby.

  “Aaaaaaand we have another complication,” Nurse Jennifer offered, and this time her awestruck tone mirrored the expressions of everyone else.

  Dr. Christian’s shoulders dropped as he lifted the sheet to get a handle on what was happening on the opposite end of things. “What is it now?”

  “That patient just opened her eyes. She’s trying to speak.”

  * * *

  “Temple,” Jai whispered as he took her hand in his.

  Her dark-brown eyes focused on him and her breathing that had been coming at a steady pace, now amped into rapid succession. Her peaches and cream skin was smooth, an unblemished complexion with warm coloring touching her cheeks. Her form was curvy and had only diminished by a few pounds under his care. She had the elegant beauty of Lena Horne and Dorothy Dandridge combined.

  The words he intended to speak dried up in his throat.

  Fear and then anguish held their ground as Temple squirmed, and the nurses tried to hold her steady. The unexpected pain had to be unbearable.

  Jai’s mind went into overdrive. “You’re going to be all right,” he crooned, but his heart ached because she was in the middle of a major life-altering experience, and a child was being forced to enter this world under the most questionable of circumstances. “You’re in the hospital. In the middle of delivering a baby.”

  “Actually, she’s on the tail end, the baby is almost here,” Nurse Jennifer said as the red-haired female next to her nodded, eyes wide with wonder. The three women worked in tandem, nearly moving Dr. Christian out of the way and it was a sight to behold.

  “Never seen anything like this in my entire life,” Dr. Christian said as Nurse Jennifer moved past him and practically took over.

  “Does she need to push or something?” Jai asked, barely able to pull his gaze from Temple. “And what about the pain?”

  The doctor didn’t reply, so Jai snapped his fingers in front of the man’s flushed face to get his attention.

  “We’re way past that point,” he said, finally springing into action. “She’s going to have to ride this one out because that part is over,” Dr. Christian said, still focused on the business end of the delivery. “Pushing is for getting the baby to the canal. This little guy is swimming on his— Ooooops, I mean … her own.”

  “Can we get a team in here to focus strictly on Temple?” Jai asked.

  “The team we have now is just fine,” Dr. Christian reverted to his dismissive tone.

  Jai was ready to throttle the man to shake some common sense into him. He’d better be grateful for Nurse Jennifer who kept him from receiving the ass-whipping he’d been asking for since they wheeled Temple through the doors of Meridian.

  “That baby has already been through hell and back,” Jai said, fed up with this doctor’s nonsense. “The nurses in here need to focus on the baby. I want someone here solely to care for Temple.”

  Dr. Christian pulled his shoulders back and glowered at Jai.

  “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job,” Jai continued in a softer tone. “But the baby’s going to need a lot of special care. She hasn’t been through what anyone would call a normal process.”

  “I hear you,” Nurse Jennifer said and rushed to the phone hanging on the wall.

  Jai dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

  “I’d swear up and down that you’re the father,” Dr. Christian said as he wiped both hands on a white towel and tossed it into the nearest bin.

  “For all intents and purposes, I am,” Jai countered as Temple scanned the strange faces around her. “Do your best for both Temple and her baby.”

  When Temple’s eyes locked with his, Jai moved to the front end of the bed. “I am Jaidev Maharaj,” he whispered to her. “And I’m going to take excellent care of you.”

  A single tear slipped from her eye before Temple said the firs
t words she had spoken in an entire year. “I believe you.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Hiram’s brows rose, then lowered as Wanda rushed back into the living room, traded the throws by snatching up her clothes and didn’t bother to put on any underwear as she slipped the dress over her head. Then she grabbed her shoes and ran toward the door. She cut an ugly look at Crystal on her way out.

  “Aren’t you going after her?” Marilyn asked in the softest tone she’d used during the entire exchange.

  Crystal lifted the remote from the coffee table, propped her legs up and fully stretched out and claimed more space on the sofa the same way her mother had just reclaimed every second of her time.