BWWM: BEFORE I WAKE: A Bad Boy Billionaire Book Collection (African American Interracial Series) (372 page)

SHANE

              I left the claustrophobia of my father’s ridiculously palatial mansion in my running clothes and I began to run as soon as my feet hit the sidewalk. The soles of my running shoes kissed the pavement and after a mile or two, my muscles began to warm. I ran towards the park, but instead of jogging through it, I ran past…towards the Eastside where the tall concrete and glass buildings loomed large against the early morning sun. Running cleared my head, and I needed that today more than ever.

              I had to decide what I was going to say before I walked into that courtroom later today. I’ve known that I would be called as a witness for weeks now, but how I should answer the pretty prosecutor’s questions still eluded me. 

              My Pop is Braden McShannon. He’s currently on trial and being held without bail on multiple charges. I say multiple because at the last count it was over twelve different charges…too many for me to list, definitely too many for me to defend.

              The charges that would land him in prison for life without the possibility of parole came from the murder and dismemberment of two detectives that had infiltrated the “family.” The state prosecutor calls it “the organization.” It’s all the same thing to my father.

              His soldiers, if they’re loyal, are as important to him as his sons.  I knew a lot about what happened behind the scenes in the “family.” I knew that the two detectives had been made as cops by one of my Pop’s “soldiers,” and I knew that my father gave the orders for their deaths.  The bodies were found stuffed inside two large suitcases on a ferry headed from Boston to Salem.

              I remember when the news of that hit the papers, I was physically ill all day, knowing that this was my father who could order a thing like that. I wanted out…and if my Pops went to prison for life, I’d finally have a way out for good.

              It’s not that I haven’t tried before…If I left, he would always send someone to find me and when they hauled me back up in front of him he would say, “Family is forever Shane. You don’t walk away because you disagree with something one of them might do. You’re breaking your mother’s heart, and one of these days, her coddling won’t be enough to protect you. You need to be more like your brothers and accept the fact that I know what I’m doing here. Have faith in me, Shane. I’m your father.”

              What he doesn’t know is that my brothers are as ready to wash their hands of him as I am, I just happen to be the only one willing to tell him that to his face.  I admit that the lifestyle we lead is an addictive one…but there are some lines that should never be crossed no matter how powerful you become. You have to ask yourself how happily you can live on money that had blood all over it.

              A month ago, my mother had come to me in my office. “Shane, I’ve been married to your father for forty years now.”

              I smiled at the time, unsure why she was telling me what I already knew. My parents were married for ten years before they had any children. My mother thought she was barren but suddenly my brother Patrick was conceived and then a year and a half later I came along, and then Colin.

              Ma finally had her perfect Irish Catholic family. It was everything she had dreamed of as a girl…except that I’d be willing to bet she had never dreamed of being married to a mobster…and most especially she hadn’t dreamt that someday that mobster would be the head of a crime syndicate that spanned several states.

              “Yes, I know Ma. I’ve been there for a few of the anniversary parties, remember?”

              “You know that I would never ask you to do anything that might cause harm to you…” she’d paused again, studying my face. It was like she hoped I knew what she wanted to say and I would volunteer it before she had to say it.

              “Shane, I want you to put your father away.” I was glad that I was sitting down or I may have fallen out of my chair. In my twenty-eight years of life, my ears had never heard her speak an ill word about my father…no matter how many times he so richly deserved it.

              “You want me to testify against him? In open court?”

She put her hand on my arm and her hazel eyes plead with me while she struggled to keep her face neutral.

              “I want you to know that it’s okay to do the right thing.”

              We both knew what that was. I had more information on my father and his operations than anyone. I was his middle son, but I was his right hand in our businesses -  everything except murder. I’d refused to take part in any of that long ago and he had let me get away with it. That was what he meant by her “coddling” not helping me any longer. He told her all the time that she was making us soft and that we needed to “grow a pair.”

              The first time I ever stood up to him was when I told him I wouldn’t have any part in taking a life. His response had been to chuckle and say, “Look at you, growing a conscience. Too bad you can’t grow a pair of balls instead.”

              That remark had only given me the final push I needed. I had my own business, a legitimate one when he wasn’t using it to launder his dirty money. I was in the import/export business and at twenty-eight I had done well for myself. I started focusing more on my own operations and less on his. I had even moved out of that mausoleum he passed off as a home.

              That day I had looked at my mother and nodded. Neither of us felt compelled to take the conversation any further than that…but I had spoken with Pat and Colin about it later. Neither of them objected to me following my “conscience.”

              As I remembered all of that, I turned down a street that led me into the Commons. I was still running at full speed, panting for every breath.

              I finally stopped when I got to Broadway. I went to a little juice bar there and got myself a smoothie with an energy boost. I was going to need it. I took my drink and walked back out into the cool air, filling my lungs with it before I had to go back to that stifling mansion. I wanted to go home to my own place, but right now, my mother needed me.

              I walked back towards the mansion as I sipped my smoothie and tried to force thoughts of having to testify out of my head now.

Instead, I let my thoughts fall on the prosecutor…Kenya Duncan. She was tough and even Dad’s highest paid attorneys were having trouble doing battle with her and coming out on top. Her prowess in the courtroom wasn’t what drew my attentions, however.

              I’d never dated a black woman…but that’s not to say I haven’t been attracted to them. I first noticed it in college. I went to a basketball game with a friend of mine and there was a group of cheerleaders there in front of where we sat in the bleachers.

              One of them was a beautiful black girl and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I was completely aroused watching her dance around and do her cheers. The way her golden skin contrasted with her white uniform made my mind envision what my pale skin would look like next to hers…inside of hers.

              I didn’t ask her out, or even introduce myself. I saw her not long after that with a huge black guy that was in one of my classes, so later I asked him about her. He laughed at me and said she wouldn’t be interested in dating a “white” boy.

              Regardless, she’d provided plenty of ammo for my fantasies for years to come. Kenya reminded me of her, and the sight of her on the television left me in a semi-state of arousal every time.

              I had actually looked forward to going to her office for my deposition. I had been sorely disappointed to find out that she wasn’t even there that day. I gave my testimony to some kid who still had acne and went home once again to try and catch a snippet of her on TV.

              Kenya was sharp and professional in her suit jacket and skirt. Every time I saw her I thought of  how many times I’d woken up in the middle of the night with my dick in my hand, my head swimming with filthy thoughts of her.

              That was what made me so bold last night at the ball. I’d imagined it and fantasized about it so many times that when I finally came face to face with her; it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. The strangest part was how receptive she had been. I’d been so close to taking her right there in the garden…but a plan had begun to take root in my head.

              Two hours later I was showered, dressed in one of my best suits and sitting outside the courtroom, anxiously awaiting my turn on the stand.

              “Mr. McShannon?” the bailiff stuck his head out the door. “They’re ready for you.”

              I took a deep breath at the door and followed the bailiff through. I saw both of my brothers sitting behind the defense table with my mother between them and I thought about what a messed up little family we had. None of us wanted him to get off…yet here we all were on the side of the defense.

              As I passed through the swinging half doors, Kenya looked up from where she sat at her own table. My eyes locked into hers and I gave her a slow smile. She was wearing a tan jacket over a turquoise blouse and a tan skirt. Her dark hair was pulled back into a twist at the nape of her neck and she had a gold comb holding it in place. The only other jewelry she wore were a pretty pair of small gold hoops in her ears. I couldn’t help but look at her exposed neck and remember how good she had tasted…

              I took my seat on the stand and while I was sworn in I could feel her eyes still on me. I had to stifle a smile. This was going to be entertaining.

KENYA

              I watched the middle McShannon boy be ushered into the courtroom. That was how we talked about them when we had our meetings in the office…the oldest “boy” Patrick, the middle “boy” Shane and the youngest  “boy” Colin.

              I had seen the other two “boys” her in the courtroom. They attended the proceedings every day, sitting behind their father’s table in the front row, with their sweet little gray haired mother in between them. They looked like the picture of a sweet family…but  neither of them looked like “boys.”

              These were big, strapping, uncommonly good-looking men…and now that I get a look at Shane, I’m convinced that whatever evil Braden McShannon was guilty of his gene pool was just about perfect.

I got a strange feeling when Shane stopped and intimately looked at me - like I knew him from somewhere. Then he smiled and I saw his dimples. My mind instantly returned to the night before, in the garden…but it couldn’t be….

              “Miss Duncan, are you ready?”

              I stood up and buttoned my jacket. “Yes your honor.”

              “You may proceed.”

              “Good morning Mr. McShannon,” I said as I approached the witness stand.

              He smiled at me again. His smile was like the one usually reserved for people you knew, and there was a hint of amusement dancing behind his dark eyes. Was this fun for him? “Good morning, Miss Duncan.”

              His voice was deep…baritone…just like my mystery man. I winced and focused back on the task at hand.

“Can you state for the record, what your relationship is to the defendant?”

              “He’s my father.”

              “Do you work with him as well?”

              “No.”

              What the hell? That isn’t what he said in his deposition. “I’m sorry? You don’t work with him?”

              “No. I own my own business.”

              I took a deep breath and willed myself not to get flustered. “Did yo
u
eve
r
work with your father?”

              “Yes.”

              “And can you tell us what type of business your father is in?”

              “Waste management.”

              I was trying hard not to roll my eyes. This guy was pissing me off.

              “So, he owns garbage trucks?”

              “That’s part of it. He owns landfills and manages waste removal from Boston city parks….” His face was unreadable.

              “Thank you, Mr. McShannon. So tell us what it was that you did for this company exactly?”

              “I managed his finances. I made sure that payroll was done every week. I also did a lot of the hiring and firing of staff.”

              “So in the course of managing his finances, did you ever notice any large deposits or withdraws that weren’t for the sanitation business?”

              “No.”

              “Mr. McShannon... This testimony is not the same testimony you gave my staff when we deposed you.”

              He raised an eyebrow. Damn, his eyelashes are long. “It isn’t? I apologize. I can’t imagine why. Perhaps I didn’t understand the questions.”

              “Did you or did you not say that you saw copious amounts of cash come in and go out of the business…on a daily basis?”

              “I do not recall saying that…” I felt the heat rising to my face.

              “Did you or did you not tell my staff that your father paid six figures to a man known as “Striker”  right before the bodies of Detective Samuels and Detective Rosa were discovered?”

              “Well...I do not recall saying that…”

              “Give me a break!” I snapped.

              “Objection, your honor!” The defense council was on his feet. “She’s badgering the witness.”

              “Are you kidding me, Bill? He’
s
m
y
witness!”

              I took a deep breath and glanced at the judge. “Your honor, I’m just trying to establish why my witness’s testimony is so different now than it was two weeks ago at my office.”

              “I’ll sustain the objection. Miss Duncan ask the questions, accept the answers and move on. If you have issues with contempt, you can take that up with me in my chambers.” Judge Casey looked bored out of his mind. How could everyone be so lax at such a pivotal time in my career?

              “Yes your honor.” I turned my icy stare back onto Shane McShannon. He looked so cool and calm and still amused…so smug. This guy wa
s
no
t
going to ruin my moment, dammit.

“Alright, Mr. McShannon. I’ll cut right to chase and spare us both. Is your father involved with Cosa Nostra?”

              “You would have to ask my father that question I’m afraid. I’m not his keeper, Ms. Duncan. I watched the books, that’s all.”

              “I’m sorry? Is that a yes or a no?”

              “It’s more of an I can’t be sure.” The cocky bastard winked. He’s sitting on the witness stand, lying through his teeth and he winks at me.

              “Mr. McShannon, we’re you threatened in any way before coming here to testify?”

              “No ma'am.”

              “Are you in fear for your life?”

              He smiled. I wanted to slap that gorgeous smile right off his face.

              “Not at all,” he said.

              “Did you know Detective’s Samuels and Rosa?”

              “Not in that capacity. I knew them as Sam and Ray. They worked for my father.”

              “In the sanitation business?”

              “Yes.”

              “Did you know they were murdered?”

              “Yes, but only when I read it in the paper.”

              “Did you know they were obviously tortured and then dismembered?”

              “Yes, but again….”

              “Only after you read it in the paper. Right! Your honor, may I approach?” Now we were going somewhere.

              “Yes, yes, approach.” The judge was annoyed with me. I wondered if the McShannons were paying him too. The defense attorney came up as I spoke to the judge.

              “He’s lying about everything. I have reason to believe...”

              “And you know thi
s
ho
w
?” Bill asked, obviously smelling blood in the water. Bastard.

              “Because like I said, this is completely contrary to the testimony he gave at my office.”

              “Miss Duncan, you know that a deposition in your office is not admissible here,” the judge told me with a warning look.

              “I know that your honor…but he was… is.. my star witness.”

              Judge Casey cocked an eyebrow and said, “Perhaps you should pick your witnesses more wisely next time.”

              I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I felt it all coming unraveled. Everything I’d worked and stressed over for months now…. “Can I have a short recess your honor to recoup?”

              He rolled his eyes, but picked up his gavel and called a fifteen minute recess. The jury was ushered out and then Shane was escorted down by the bailiff.

On his way past the table he said, “Can I have a moment alone Miss Duncan?”

              I looked up at him sharply. What kind of game was this guy playing? I wanted to say no, but like I’d told the judge, he was my star witness…the only one that had been willing to speak up. I’d saved him for last and now I had nothing else.

              “Bailiff, will you show him to conference room one? I’ll be right there.”  I watched him go and then turned to my lead investigator.

              “Get me everything you can on that man, as fast as you can…and I mean everything.”

              “I’ll do my best.”

              With a sigh I headed for the conference room. When I stepped into the mahogany room, the bailiff stepped out. Shane McShannon was sitting back in one of the big leather chairs, looking like he owned the place.

              “What is it you want Mr. McShannon?” He stood up gracefully and came towards me. I instinctively took a step back. He stopped about a foot from me.

              “I’m not going to hurt you.” His dark eyes were full of...longing?

              “What do you want?”

              “I want.. to taste you again…like I did last night in the garden.” Oh fucking shit! My head was suddenly spinning. This had to be him, otherwise how would he have known.

              “What kind of game is this?” I was proud of myself. My voice didn’t come out sounding shaky at all but my insides were convulsing.

              “It’s not a game Kenya…May I call you Kenya?” He smiled slightly. Dimples.

              “No! What do you want from me? Are you trying to blackmail me? You sought me out last night, didn’t you?” Oh God, what had I gotten myself into? This case was definitely done for now.

              “I did, but only because... I’m so incredibly attracted to you. My hands are actually aching right now to touch you again.”

I felt sweat begin to form on my brow and I took another step back. I let my eye flicker down to his hands and as he flexed them, my body tingled in places that it didn’t have a right to. The room felt much too small now.

              “That’s what this is all about? Is your attraction to me why you lied on the stand?”

              He smiled. “Testifying against my father is a little more difficult than you might imagine. I want to do what is right, but in the process I’ll be losing out on a lot. I’m not the career criminal that my father is…but I’m used to getting what I want…and I want you.”

              “You want to do what with me?” I thought I knew the answer, but I had to hear him say it. That way I could tell him how ridiculous he was being and we could drop it and move on. My body screamed at me. How long had it been?

              A small mischievous smile pulled at the corner of his full lips.

“I want one night. You spend one night with me and agree to do everything I…suggest. In exchange for my full testimony against my father.”

              “That’s blackmail and it’s illegal.”

              “It’s also your word against mine. At this point, we need each other.”

              I was shocked that this man would think that I’d exchange sex for his testimony but at the same time, I was oddly aroused by it. His father is guilty…I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But, it is unlikely without Shane’s testimony that he would be convicted. The rest of it is all circumstantial. Could I sleep with this guy?

              I let my eyes flicker across his body and the answer was a warm rush between my legs
.
Fuck.

              Ethically, morally and personally, this was all wrong…but I'd worked so damn hard crawling my way up through years of red tape as a woman.. an african american woman, that I wasn’t going to let some bad boy businessman ruin it for me now. I’m a Duncan. And a Duncan does whatever it takes. When I opened my mouth I heard myself speak with resolve.

              “If you go in there and give the exact same testimony you gave in my office then… fine. But I swear if you lie even a little bit….”

              “I won’t.” His eyes sparked.

              My body hummed with excitement. What was wrong with me? “Once I give my testimony, how do I know that I can trust you to fulfill your end?”

              I cocked my head. “You don’t. You have to trust me or not…I really don’t care.” I was talking a good game but a realization suddenly hit me.

              “I need to know one thing.”

              “What is that?” The light caught against his dark hair and I was momentarily mesmerized.

              “Wh-Why? Why would you give your father up for one night with me? You don’t look like the kind of guy who has trouble getting it the, uhm normal way.”

              A grin, that cocky look again. “No, I don’t have trouble there. My father has gotten away with too much for too long. I don’t agree with any of the lines he’s crossed  and it’s time for his tyranny over Boston to come to an end. What I want from you… for us... will be the sweetest icing ever on top of that cake.”

              He grinned then and took another step towards me. This time I didn’t step back. Damn he smells good.

              “How about a kiss to seal it, sweet Kenya?” I leaned in close so our lips were almost touching. He could wait.

              “I’m afraid, our time is up. You’ll just have to wait.”

              Still smiling he said, “Tonight?”

I was already headed for the door.