Page 29 of Trial of Deceit (The Family’s Oath #1)

Chapter fifteen

W hile his anger rolled off him in waves, she was on high alert.

They were walking side-by-side from the parking lot toward the main building at the headquarters, and Ashari couldn’t resist constantly looking over her shoulder.

She knew Jediah would never dare to set foot in Kingston, but the tension left from being with him at yesterday’s meeting had her thinking otherwise.

However, she’d known she had to contact Senior after Dimitri’s silence. Last night, Ashari had snuck out before bedtime, and had managed to leave a message at the daycare.

“Unbelievable,” Senior muttered for the umpteenth time.

Ashari stopped looking over her shoulder to settle her widened eyes at her father, who was a pace ahead of her. “Dad—”

Toby stopped suddenly, almost making Ashari bump into his back.

“Do not call me by that name. Do you think a woman who has murdered my son — her brother — for a man who has been nothing but a pain to the F.B.I., has the right to call me that? When she has married him? And is so blind to my feelings that she dares to wear his ring in my presence?”

Her guilt made it difficult to breathe. She reached for the ring. She’d gotten so used to wearing it that the sting didn’t burn into her skin anymore. She slipped it off her finger, holding it in a tight fist while burying her hand in her pocket. “It’s not so simple—”

“But that’s how it will be explained,” Toby said.

“I need definitions so simple as if you were speaking to a child at the daycare, so that when you are done, I understand clearly why you would dare to abandon my teachings like this.” He brought his head backward, his eyes a mix of emotions that were hard to fathom. “Have I taught you nothing?”

“You’ve taught me everything.”

Toby chuckled, straightening himself before he continued walking. “Then come inside and give me one reason to pretend I can stand to look at you while you play house with Jediah Richardson.”

Toby clasped his hands before laying them atop the table.

His gaze lingered on his hands while Ashari held her breath for the seconds it took for him to look at her.

“You are lucky that the majority of the Richardson case has been top secret in the F.B.I. for many years. Only the agents on the case will know about the marriage—”

“Let’s keep it that way. I don’t want any more complications,” Ashari said. She was more relaxed now that the edge to her father’s tone was gone.

Toby’s brow raised. “Why would complications arise? Is there more to your disappearance and marriage that you omitted from the case files and aren’t telling me?”

She glanced at the laptop and files laid on the desk between them. She thought of all they’d discussed before shaking her head. “No,” she said. “Remember to talk to Isley. He didn’t tell us about a meeting with Jediah. He might be a double-agent.”

“That would not surprise me. He’s a politician.”

“Yeah.” Ashari watched as Toby pushed the chair back, stood, then approached the door. “Dad,” she called out, and he paused. “I’m sorry about Romar. He was the best big brother to me despite…”

Toby’s brows furrowed. “Despite?”

A heaviness laid on her. How could she tell the man who adopted her when he didn’t have to, that his son had been secretly in love with her all this time?

She forced a smile, unable to add more to the sadness her father couldn’t fully mask from his eyes. “Despite us not getting along sometimes.”

Toby sadly smiled, his eyes glazing over as he reminisced. “You both always fought for my attention.”

“Because you’re the best dad anyone could ask for,” she stated, and his eyes softened. She remembered nothing of her biological father except his death; selfish as it was, in this lifetime and the next, she wouldn’t want anyone else except Toby Payne as her father.

The emotion left Toby’s eyes before he nodded. He opened the door and left, closing it behind him.

Ashari chuckled. “Never great with showing affection,” she teased the locked door. Ashari stood with a stretch. She moved toward the door and was about to open it when it opened from the outside. Face-to-face with Lyssa, she smiled. “Lyssa!”

Lyssa scowled. “ Married ?”

Ashari’s smile vanished. She stepped backward into the room, not wanting to drag attention to them. “Yes, but—”

“But what?” Lyssa asked, refusing to enter the room.

Ashari glared. “Don’t make it seem like we were a thing, Lyssa. This is my job—”

“It’s more than a job now,” Lyssa argued, rage building in her eyes. “The Ashari I love would’ve never married that man. She would’ve found another way to win a case.”

“Maybe you don’t know me at all,” Ashari countered, and Lyssa faltered for a moment.

“You’re just sex to me, Lyssa. We’re not in a relationship and would never be.

You’re just a pastime when I get bored, and the sooner you understand that, the easier this case will be for you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go watch my informant get interrogated, then return to the person who actually gets to say they’re in a relationship with me.

” Ashari pushed past Lyssa, ignoring the shock painted on her face and the redness of her skin.

Stomping away, Ashari seethed at Lyssa’s audacity. How dare her seek a confrontation — at work of all places? The headquarters was bustling with agents grabbing coffees and escorting informants around with their heads covered. Anyone could’ve overheard them.

If Romar was alive, he’d laugh at her. Probably give her a hard speech like their father would, too: Do not mix pleasure with business. You should know this better than anyone else.

Ashari bitterly laughed as she entered the observation room.

She was thankful it was empty. No one was there to question why tears had suddenly formed in her eyes.

She blinked them away while standing before the one-way window that took up the majority of the wall.

She pressed the intercom next to the window before crossing her arms and listening to her father interrogate Isley.

Isley Pinnock was an interesting man. The F.B.I.

had a hunch that he was the politician who frequented America to form connections for the Richardsons’ gun and drug trade.

They’d patiently waited for him to do his regular visits under the guise of advocacy for gun reform, then intercepted him at his hotel.

Shocked, he’d begun confessing to crimes before they could begin torturing it out of him.

Still, the F.B.I. knew better than to make sudden arrests.

The Richardsons had gotten away with their gun and drug trade for years; concrete evidence was needed to extradite their leader to the US.

Thinking of how her finger felt empty without the heavy ring, Ashari knew it wouldn’t be easy. But even if it was the last thing she did, Jediah Richardson and his entire organization would be brought to justice.

For Romar.

For her father’s legacy.

For her future’s reputation.

Jediah placed a hand in his pocket as he walked with Dimitri and the head manager.

While the man raved about sales, Jediah admired the expensive interior of the car mart — from its sleek columns, to the squeaky clean tiles.

Chatter bustled from every area, buyers looking into renting or owning a lavish, super car sold from Richardson Motors, the only licensed dealer in Jamaica for certain renowned brands.

Others were seeking interior detailing or requesting their cars be professionally washed.

If he’d had kids, the money made through the car marts would be enough for Jediah’s great-great-great grandchildren to never work, and many generations after that. Still, Jediah wanted more. But it wasn’t from greed.

His car marts were limited to only the North, South, and West of Jamaica. It was suspicious for a booming business to not have a nexus in any of the East. What made matters worse was this was all because of the Valcourt family.

Jediah’s scowl deepened as they walked into a back garage. A man wearing a reflective high-visibility safety vest was directing car carrier trailers inside. New cars were strapped onto it.

As they stopped a distance away to watch the men work, Dimitri crossed one arm over the next. “Cameron would love this job.”

Jediah didn’t spare the man a glance. “I’ve told you to drop it,” he said in a low warning voice, to which Dimitri scoffed. Jediah faced Dimitri. “Cameron’s doing something.”

“Something I can’t know about?” Dimitri pressed. “When since?”

“Since I said so,” Jediah answered before facing his employee, whose gaze had been averted from their interaction.

It made Jediah smirk. All of his store managers knew when to pretend not to see something; it was what made them trustworthy and kept a few extra thousands coming into their accounts every month.

“These new imports are still slim. Make sure that when you secure the guns inside the cars, the reassembly is done properly. I had a few clients complain that fixing above the glove compartment was hard. It shouldn’t be. ”

“Because we don’t have Cameron overseeing this,” Dimitri muttered while the manager nodded at Jediah.

Instead of replying to Dimitri, Jediah shook the manager’s hand and began retracing his steps to the car. Dimitri followed, joining him in the back while the new driver drove off.

Jediah stared through the window as they drove through the security gates. “Like how we deh so close to St. Andrew…” Jediah said, causing Dimitri to stiffen. Jediah sensed his mood, but he pretended not to notice and continued speaking. “Let’s pay Isley a visit.”

Dimitri hissed his teeth. “Bredda, if yu don’ have nothing good fi seh, a best yu stop talk.”

Jediah rolled his eyes. “Man a behave like we a go deep in a Kingston. A pon the outskirts Isley live—”

“Yes, but we caan’ just pop up pon a politician.

There are protocols for this. We have fi change the car, create a photo op, and mek Isley know we a fawud.

We caan’ afford fi we enemies know ’bout the only ally wi have in a Kingston.

” Dimitri argued, then tugged at his collar and fanned his face.

“Mi think mi need mi pills. You a stress mi out.”

Jediah chuckled, knowing Dimitri was being dramatic. “You sound like Elias.”

“Wa yu expect when you a send wi pon a death mission?!” Dimitri hissed, to which Jediah gulped hard. Some of the heat left Dimitri’s eyes. Sighing, he sadly shook his head. “This a ’bout Malia?”

Gulping again, Jediah looked through the window.

He hadn’t realized when the car had parked on the side of the road, its hazard lights on while the security cars parked before and behind him, awaiting instructions.

“Yu don’ even understand, bro… A Red Hills she born and grow.

The ’mount a stories she tell mi ’bout growing up there, and mi neva get fi visit before.

Mi never even leff the country before. A years now mi lose mi mother, but, sometimes, mi just wan’ feel close to her… ”

Dimitri placed his hand on Jediah’s shoulder.

“Mi understand. Same so mi feel ’bout my old man even though mi don’ lose him as long as you lose yu mother…

” he trailed off, then glanced at the driver.

“Ah, hear wa. We a go switch the car, but we naa go deep in a Kingston. We naa stay long before we head back to peace and safety in a St. Ann.”

“Peace,” Jediah mocked in a whisper, then scoffed.

The driver’s eyes met Jediah’s. Jediah nodded, and he turned off the hazard lights before pulling off. The other cars fell in line. As Dimitri moved his hand, Jediah nodded. Dimitri returned it, then they looked out the windows at their sides.

Jediah’s scowl had vanished from how tightly his teeth were clenched.

Riding in circles around Belvedere wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but he knew it was all he could afford.

Dimitri was next to him on high alert with his gun resting on his lap, his trigger finger ready to shoot at the first sign of danger.

Jediah heaved a sigh as he hunched further into the seat.

For a man who practically owned Jamaica, he hated how obeying his father’s wishes left him powerless in ways that were unfathomable to him.

Propping his elbow against the door, Jediah rested his chin on his hand.

Strangers went in and out of stores, not sparing a glance at the heavily tinted vehicles cruising along the roads.

None of this scenery was giving Jediah what he expected it to. What he needed to see was his mom’s estate in Red Hills. The one she made his father mimic when they moved to St. Ann months before their marriage.

Bored, Jediah began raising his chin, about to request that the trip be cut short, when he bolted upright. His eyes widened at the people exiting a store across the street.

“A wa?” Dimitri rushed out, his voice on edge while the car slowed down.

“Wa she a do wid him?” Jediah asked in a clipped tone. He reached for his pistol, which had been idling on the seat between him and Dimitri.

Dimitri looked past Jediah. His eyes scanned the crowd before he noticed a man and a woman lingering before a hardware store. The woman’s hands were animated as she spoke to Marquis, who kept his hands in his pockets while listening.

Adrenaline pumped in Jediah’s veins as he flicked off the safety of his gun. He was reaching for the button to bring the window down when Dimitri halted him.

“No,” Dimitri said despite his grip on his gun being tight, his finger practically aching to fire it. “We caan’ kill anybody here.”

Jediah was about to exclaim how stupid Dimitri was being, when he noticed the occasional child with their parent, either lingering outside the restaurant, or strolling toward another business in the surrounding area. Jediah’s grip on the gun slackened. His jaw tightened before he nodded.

Dimitri glanced at the driver. “Bring we back to the estate.”

Jediah’s eyes, swirling with fury, fixed on Dimitri while the driver matched the pace of the slow moving traffic. “Wa she a do wid him?” he asked angrily.

Dimitri shrugged while pulling his phone out. “Don’ know. Me a go get Reka pon this.”

Jediah looked over his shoulder, but the woman and Marquis were no longer there. His brows creased, many questions forming in his mind while his heart continued to race. “Something’s not right…” he muttered.