King of Devon Read online

  “You could serve up one of those felons and buy yourself some time,” Donald suggested, sliding a heart paperweight off Jai’s desk, curling his pudgy fingers around it.

  “We can wait for the DNA results to come back,” Jai said, as someone knocked on the office door. “I can bide my time. The truth will come out. Eventually.”

  “But by then the damage will be done,” Donald pointed out, grinning. “Then, you won’t have patients, a facility, or anything else to speak of. You’re losing ground every day that you don’t accept my offer.” He laid the paperweight back on the desk, then gestured behind him. “I thought you’d need a little incentive, so I brought along a couple of friends to help me out. Make you understand exactly how ugly things can get.”

  He opened the office door to find Kelly standing outside. “His minions are getting impatient.”

  She stepped back and his gaze fell on two women clad in power suits and wearing austere facial expressions that held an ominous vibe. He immediately recognized the red hair and freckled face of Tina Drew-Miller—Big Red—as the woman who had been all over the news the minute Temple’s pregnancy was leaked by a police source. Quite possibly at the urging of the man who’d been smirking at him seconds ago. The other woman he also recognized as Marilyn Spears, the one who’d been in charge of fielding documentation that had been required as part of an ongoing witch hunt. For some reason, he had the feeling that she was not enjoying this process as much as Donald and Big Red. At times, she would hint at ways to close the gap on the process, but then Big Red would throw something else into the mix and start things all over again.

  Pointing over his shoulder with one thumb, Jai said, “So he somehow talked you into expediting this whole process, right?”

  “We didn’t have a choice,” Big Red said, and actually managed to keep a straight face behind that lie. “The press coverage alone demanded that we take immediate action.”

  No, that “immediate action” came after Donald found out that Jai was in line for managing member of The Castle, which would set the stage for ousting Donald and the other men who had control, he moved some key players into place and rained down all kinds of unnecessary audits and investigations on Chetan. He also worked the most vicious angles pertaining to this current unfortunate situation with Temple, trying to get Jai not to sign the paperwork. With eight other men who had his back, Jai was not going to be strong-armed into giving up something so important. Not when he understood the depths that rich men would go to keep their dirty deeds hidden. The Castle was mired in so much filth his fellow kings—eight men who had been commissioned to unravel all the wrongdoing within the organization—it was taking much longer to weed out the source of so many crimes.

  Right now, it was taking full resources to unravel the mess the former board had made. An unknown individual attempted to assassinate Khalil and his son, Vikkas. That action netted Khalil a two-week hospital stay and Vikkas, a graze wound on his upper arm. All nine of the kings were filtering through leads, trying to figure out who would be so bold to harm such a peaceful man. Thanks to Daron’s handle on the security and surveillance systems, and Dro doing some major digging into the backgrounds of all The Castle’s members, the answer would present itself soon. But, before that, he had to deal with this immediate challenge.

  The two women followed him into the office and sat after he waved them toward a couple of chairs.

  “All of the male employees are on leave,” Jai countered, reclaiming his seat across from his unwanted guests. “So, the more pressing issue has been eliminated. I don’t see why the patients have to be moved.”

  The quieter woman’s body language hinted that she didn’t agree with the actions of her superior. She leaned away from Donald and barely kept the disdain off her face when she looked at him. Donald must’ve had something on Big Red to force them to pull a rope around this process so fast, without proper planning or a good contingency effort in place.

  Big Red crossed one leg over the other, her chin lifted in a haughty manner that signaled her authority as the director was absolute, but so it was with the men who had banded together to take on people like her boss. “They’re going to be placed in state care for the time being. Even when this is all resolved, you won’t be able to operate the way you have been all this time.” She inhaled and let it out slowly. “The fact that Dr. Taylor was the only one in the medical community who spoke up on your behalf is telling.”

  Marilyn straightened her skirt, but didn’t say a word.

  Jai absorbed that whole spiel and felt the need to educate Big Red on the truth of things, but also as a way to reach the silent one who might have a conscience under that conservative exterior. “Let’s call it like it is, more people didn’t come forward because my methods don’t feed into the pharmaceutical pipeline—an industry that makes billions off people, since they have a focus toward treatment and not full cures. These new meds that get FDA approval without the years of testing, or after the right money changes hands …” He flickered a gaze to Big Red, who seemed bored by all the logistical information. “… sometimes create more illnesses that require patients to take even more medicine.” Jai steepled his fingers under his chin. “Who benefits from that? The people who are putting money directly in his pockets, not yours. Yes, I can see where that question could pose a problem for your friends.”

  “As a former pharmacist and someone who works with those companies,” the silent one finally spoke up, “I say not to vilify everyone in the industry. There are many aspects of Big Pharma that aren’t bad. And everyone wants a cure, a pill, a quick fix to get better. No one wants to be told there is no cure, suffer through the pain, or just too bad so sad. Sometimes drugs are risk versus benefit.”

  Jai slid to the edge of his seat, all too ready to debate the issue, realizing she had valid points. Donald and Big Red shared a bored glance.

  Marilyn’s hand went up to ward off the attack. “I’m not absolving Big Pharma for all its sins. But, there is a middle ground here and we need to find it. Without some of those companies sinking their funds into medical research, cures would not be created, and they do cost money. And there are often gross misuses of the system. I just ask that we all use a little perspective on both sides of this argument.”

  Big Red and Donald glared at Marilyn and she quickly added, “I will comment no further on that point.”

  “And regardless of your point,” Big Red said, as her hard glare was on Marilyn before her eyes flashed in Jai’s direction. “You’re going to lose your patients and right after, your business as well.

  “Fortunately, the law is on our side,” Jai countered, but he was well aware that they were right in some regards.

  “Will that be enough?” Big Red shot back, a malicious grin punctuated her point. “Donald, here, has enough power to keep you on ice until he gets what he wants.”

  A chill crept over Jai’s skin as Donald’s thin lips curled into a sinister smile. Despite his discomfort, Jai refused to show any outward sign of his unease. He’d worked hard to establish his clinic, which had a stellar reputation and he’d be damned before he let this evil trio ruin what he’d sacrificed everything to build.

  CHAPTER 8

  “You would think that someone who has been asleep for an entire year, would stay awake as much as possible.”

  The harsh words, unexpected voice, and ugly tone snatched Temple Devaughn from a not-quite-peaceful sleep. She didn’t appreciate being disturbed, especially since her dream world was much better than the reality that faced her.

  The brilliant lights in the ceiling and the bright-white hospital walls hurt her eyes as she locked gazes with her scowling mother and shot back, “You would think that someone who had three children would realize how exhausting childbirth could be.” Then she lifted the corners of her mouth in something that couldn’t be construed as a smile. “But then we’d be talking about someone with empathy and compassion for others, of which you have none.”

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sp; Sharon Liscell flinched and so did Curtis Burnside, Temple’s ex, standing next to her mother and whose sour expression marred his Nordic features.

  “What are you doing here?” she said to Curtis, unable to hide the disgust in her tone. “Besides seeing for yourself that I’m actually functioning well on my own.”

  Temple realized too late that she had made a major mistake in falling for the charms of a man like Curtis. She had met him at an interfaith worship service and that suave exterior, coupled with the high-level position he held in his church, led her believe he was a true Christian which had made her fall for him so hard she couldn’t get back up again.

  Their relationship was a whirlwind of dates where he wined and dined her at some of the best places in Chicago. She didn’t realize, until later, that a great deal of his conversation was long on promises and short on substance. Then he began pressing her to take a test drive before making that ultimate last step—marriage. Something always made her hold back.

  Unable to tie down what made her unsettled, she finally had a conversation with the minister at her church several months into their relationship. Pastor Kae warned, “Make him wait for marriage. You deserve a man who respects your faith, yourself, and your body enough to slide you down the aisle before he slides you into his bed.”

  “He’s a good man, has a good job, isn’t dependent on anyone, and has his own place.” Temple’s list of Curtis’s attributes rang hollow even to her own ears.

  “As he should,” Pastor Kae agreed, leaving the glass wall that separated her office from the sanctuary. “He doesn’t get a bonus round for doing what a grown man should. And all those points you made might be true, but he’s still a man. Sometimes righteousness takes a back seat when that peen starts doing all the talking and thinking.”

  Enough said. Temple stalled any attempt to take her for a “test drive” to make sure they were a good fit. For some reason, that didn’t sit too well with Curtis.

  And if her memory served at all, that was the argument they were having the night of her accident, then … Temple closed her eyes, as another scene came to the forefront. She had rushed from her condo that night because he tried to … he had …

  Her eyes flew open as the scene swirled out of view and a throbbing headache commanded every ounce of effort. Her mother’s face hovered to the point that she blocked out everything else.

  Nurse Jennifer walked into the room and quickly maneuvered by her bedside. With a smile, Temple let her know she was okay. The nurse faded into the background, but stayed in the room to keep watchful eyes on Sharon and Curtis. They did give off the strangest vibe.

  “We’re bringing in a priest so you can go through with the marriage,” Sharon said in a matter-of-fact tone that matched her stance. “At least he’ll be able to make sure your extensive hospital bills are covered. Since you have no assets to speak of.”

  Money. That’s what it always came down to with her mother. Something about their unwanted presence, and the fact that she could vaguely remember turning Curtis down more than once bolstered Temple’s courage. “Jaidev Maharaj is footing the bill for my stay here, along with everything else. I am well taken care of. No need to rush into any long-lasting thing. Especially since I need to recover first and foremost, then I’ll get back to my regularly-scheduled program.”

  Sharon shared a glance with Curtis that spoke volumes to their anger. Why wouldn’t they be pleased that someone else was paying the costs? What was their game? She glanced at her finger and didn’t find an engagement ring there. Somehow, she believed one was never there in the first place.

  “You agreed to the marriage before your … unfortunate mishap.”

  Mishap? Car crash in the middle of the Dan Ryan Expressway. From what the nurses told her, and the information she was able to locate online, she’d barely made it out alive. They were calling her the Miracle Woman, and the newborn babe, The Miracle Child. The baby. That … stranger.

  Temple gripped the railing and closed her eyes as a flash of light and the crunch of metal on metal echoed in her head. A dark blue car of some type. Her heart raced and her body went hot, then cold. In her mind’s eye, she was running from something, but what? She opened her eyes and found Curtis peering at her in a curious manner. Something about him left a sour taste in her mouth. His scent was pungent and heady, not in a good way either.

  Engagement? Not bloody likely.

  “Be that as it may, I’m of a different mindset now,” Temple said, drawing the covers around her body. “There won’t be a marriage to him—or anyone, any time soon.”

  Curtis leaned toward Sharon and tugged at her sleeve as though to lead her from the room.

  “No,” Sharon said, pulling out of his grip. “Not until we secure her future and yours. She has submit the DNA results needed to establish that she’s actually Siobhan Liscell.” She glared openly at Temple. “You’ve always been difficult,” she snarled. “No wonder your father left us. He—”

  “Get it straight, Mama,” Temple countered, meeting her mother’s glower with one of her own. Over the years, she had given much thought to the “why’s” of it all and pieced together snippets of what she’d overheard to figure out her parents and that whole sordid ordeal. “He left you. I had nothing to do with the fact that you became pregnant with the sole intent to snare him in a marriage he clearly didn’t want. How’d that work out for you?”

  “You little b—”

  “I’d like to see the documents for the Trust set up by my father.”

  “Not necessary,” Sharon growled., but she flinched and stood ramrod straight as though a lightning bolt had zapped through her. “Those papers are locked away for safe-keeping.”

  Which meant Temple couldn’t get her hands on them without some type of court intervention. That also meant her father was still alive. If her father had died, the Will would be recorded and made public, but not so with the Trust.

  “Nurse Jen, could you escort my guests out of my room?” Temple said in a firm tone. “And see to it that they’re not allowed to return.”

  “How dare you,” Sharon growled and waved Nurse Jennifer away. “I’m your mother.”

  “I can’t tell,” Temple said, gesturing for the nurse to hold off for a minute. “Truthfully, I never could. Thank God I got away from you and that I’ve done well on my own.” Temple relished their thunderous expressions. “Trust me when I say that I’ll continue to do so—without you or him.” She dismissed them with a flick of the wrist. “I’ll be leaving here the moment they get through with all of the tests. I’d prefer it if we never laid eyes on each other again.” Temple met her mother’s angry glare head on. “Someone who hurt me the way you did, has no place in my life. Someone who tried to sabotage my career has no place in my life. Someone who never loved me has no place in my heart.” She shifted her gaze to Curtis. “And someone who disrespected and belittled me at every turn, trying to make me insecure so he could get what he wanted, has no place even thinking I’d walk down any aisle with them. It’s more likely that I’d run in the opposite direction.”

  “Sabotage your career?”

  Temple laughed, sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed, and signaled to Nurse Jennifer that she was fine. Out of all her accusations, those words were the ones Sharon decided to hang her hat on? “You think I don’t know how you ruined my life? I mean, in addition to everything else you did to please that husband of yours and his brother all while trying to line your pockets at the expense of my body and my well-being?”

  The memories of that night were back in all its nightmarish forms. But the details of what happened the evening she landed in a coma were also coming back, little by little. She had been running from something or … someone. Then someone had rammed into the back of her car. A blue car, bright headlights that still flashed in her mind at the time. The police hadn’t figured out who or why.

  The sabotage to her talent, though, didn’t come to light until she’d finished high sc
hool, and was sitting in front of Petal Gowie in the office of admissions for the Art Institute. She had been shocked to find one of her own paintings hanging on the wall. When she completed that particular piece, she’d been ten years old. Painting was her only escape from the abuse she suffered at her mother’s hand. And it seemed her only connection to her father.

  “How did you get that?” she asked the robust woman who turned to identify what Temple had referenced.

  “I acquired it on a trip to Virginia. So many of this child’s work, and her father’s ended up in thrift stores in that area.” She glanced at Temple’s application, then focused on the painting for several moments and her eyes widened with recognition. “Temple Devaughn? You’re actually Siobhan Liscell. It’s been years, but I should have recognized you right away.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.” She wasn’t sure if she should have been startled that the woman knew who she was simply by connecting her to the painting. She gestured to the abstract and a father-daughter portrait blend that was reminiscent of the hope that she would connect with her father one day. “And that’s definitely my artwork.”