Chapter 1

 

“Twenty years— at minimum.”

The words the Federal Agent had just said as he stood like a monolith in the middle of her plush living room were pounding in Keisha Al-Habar’s head like a thumping gong.

Twenty years- in prison.

The thought of twenty years in prison, a full seizure of her assets and liquidation of her company if convicted of money laundering was a very bitter pill to swallow. The young billionaire stockbroker who was the head of a leading brokerage in the middle of Charlotte City North Carolina literally felt sick.

The twenty-nine-year-old woman, the sole prodigious daughter of a Saudi father and an African-American model mother, was on the verge of getting convicted for a serious corporate crime.

It was inconceivable. No matter how many times Keisha ran it through her head she couldn’t come up with any idea how this had happened.

Twenty- three minutes ago at eight forty-five a.m., just as she had finished making her first cup of coffee, the door of her fifteen-story condo of Tyson Street, had been politely knocked on.

Curious, Keisha had tightened the belt of her silk robe and went to answer it only to come face to face with three men standing at her doorstep, one of whom, by the badges on his uniform was instantly identified as a local officer.

The one at the front though, clad in a dark suit that had hard blue eyes and a noticeable no-nonsense air to him, got to the point instantly, “Keisha Al-Habar?”

Feeling entirely wary she had nodded, “Yes, may I help you?”

The three men pulled out badges, there were two from the local PD and one from the FBI.

The lead man, the one with the briefcase closed his credentials wallet, “I am Special Agent Dirk Thomas FBI, White Collar Crimes division, and these are my colleagues, Lieutenant Jack Nichols and Detective Hunter Blake from the local Police Department. May we come inside, ma'am? We'd like to talk with you on some sensitive matters.”

Instantly, the cool and collected demeanor and she had crafted over the years from being the head of a lucrative corporation descended on her. Keisha stepped back and opened the door for them.

“Please, come in,” She said evenly, “Let me make myself presentable and I’ll be right with you.”

As they filed past her Keisha noticed the first cop, Jack was older with thinning hair and deep stress lines around his face and had an ingrained furrow between his dark brown eyes but the second- holy god.

Hunter’s dark hair was windblown and his sculpted face, all defined lines with a strong jaw looked like Michelangelo himself had chiseled him out of a slab of marble. He was dressed in casual dark jeans and a white shirt and a black biker leather jacket that didn’t hide his fairly muscled chest.

His face was blank but his forest green eyes were hooded as they ran over the room in an all-assessing gaze. When those eyes ran over her, Keisha had felt a shiver ran over her whole body as every muscle in her belly constricted.

If she was superstitious she would have thought that his eyes had grabbed a piece of her soul and devoured it with that one look. A level of tension she hadn’t felt in a long while sprung up and everything under her skin felt tight.

“Please, wait, I’ll be back in a moment,” Keisha said evenly as though her insides weren’t trembling.

“Sure ma’am,” Agent Thomas said a bit stiffly.

Even with the easy concession given to her, Keisha felt this was serious, so with a curt nod she went to her bedroom and stripped the silken robe away.

Subconsciously wanting to impress, she took out a pair of flattering jeans and a peasant blouse and put them on. She unbound her hair and allowed her thick deep mahogany tresses, a gift from her mixed heritage, to fall over her shoulders to the top of her thirty-four D bust.

Her breasts larger than she had wanted, being a business woman, they sometimes got in the way of a serious negotiation. She wasn't, however, complaining about the rest of what God had given her. Besides, they didn't detract from her figure. Her behind was plump, something she inherited from her mother, not that there was anything to complain about, it had become a fad to have a big booty.

Fluffing her hair Keisha spun around to take a last look at herself. Her jeans fitted her curvy thirty-seven “J. Lo” hips and cinched her small waist. The blouse framed her torso perfectly, fitting her ample bust and abdomen with refined elegance.

Shooting a look into the mirror Keisha took a deep and steadying breath. She had felt strong attraction from a mere glance before but the one Hunter, an appropriate name if she had ever heard one, had given her had blown all her previous experiences out of the water.

Her hazel eyes took on an edge of determination as she walked back out to see two of the men standing in the center of the room while Hunter and his hypnotic green eyes, was leaning on the far wall with his arms crossed and still blank-faced.

Forcing herself to look away Keisha faced the FBI agent, “Agent Thomas, may I ask the reason for this meeting?”

The agent pulled a file from his briefcase and handed it to her, “Ma’am, the local Bank of America just filed a report claiming some suspicious activity from an account with your name on it.”

Keisha took the file and opened it to see bank statements printouts with her name as the account holder. She skimmed down and had to hold back a gasp. Printed there, in stark black against white was a consistency of deposits of nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars every month and every three months the accumulated funds were withdrawn.

She skimmed to the last page and saw the opening date; June 13, 2012, and from then to now, the transactions spanned of five years.

Slowly, Keisha sat down on her nearest couch and felt cold. She knew numbers and she knew the law and she knew this was money laundering.

Her eyes looked up and meet the Agent’s with steadiness, “I see my name on this account but I have no idea what this is. I never opened an account in this branch."

Agent Thomas’ expression only got graver, “That was our suspicion ma’am. We suspect this is a case of identity theft. Can you recall any incident where you lost or misplaced your identification? Made a purchase online or gave to some charity?”

Keisha ran a hand through her hair as her mind flew back, trying assiduously to recall any incident like that and came up with nothing.

“I’m sorry officers,” Keisha said tightly, “I cannot recall any indecent like that, just like I have no idea why anyone would want to launder money under my name.”

Agent Thomas’ blue eyes looked impressed, “So you do know why we’re here.”

“Agent,” Keisha said standing up, intuitively aware of Hunter’s eyes following her. “I run a brokerage company. I know numbers. My father, A-abe, Hasal was a mathematician and I had to study corporate law, so yes, I know the signs of laundering. The only reason this went under your radar was that it was just barely under ten grand.”

“Yes, until the trend was caught. You do know that if we don’t disprove this, the brunt of the wall will be thrown at you,” Dirk added, “This means that the state will seize all your assets and you might face up to twenty years in prison, at minimum.”

It felt like bile in her mouth but Keisha nodded, “I understand, but you have to believe me, officer, this wasn't me. I have nothing to do with this.”

“We do believe you,” Jack said, “We’ve seen your records ma’am. You don’t even have an outstanding parking ticket in your name, so we do believe that someone else is behind this.”

Troubled, Keisha walked to her now cold cup of coffee and dumped it in the sink. “Will you men like some coffee? I think I’m going to need some.”

“No, thank you,” The three said in almost unison.

Keisha instantly isolated Hunter’s deep husky voice from the other two and forced herself to not react to it as she set the percolator back on, “Suit yourselves.”

“Ma’am, do yo-”

“Keisha, please,” the young woman sighed as the beginning of a headache started behind her eyes, “Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“Keisha then,” Agent Thomas said, “Please, we need you to think. Our tech people are combing through your records of your company. Do you have any suspicions that any of your employers would do something like this?”

A slight shot of indignation crossed Keisha’s mind at the assumption that any of her people would do such a thing. “No, my employees, they’re good people; none of them would try to harm me.”

“Oh please,” Hunter scoffed, “They’re the first people who would throw you to the dogs.”

Once again Keisha had to stop the rampant leap of arousal surging in her throat at the sound of his voice and bravely met his eyes, “Cynical much?”

Hunter’s eyes were steady, “Not cynicism; experience.”

"So, there's no one you can think off?" Agent Thomas said, "No one at all?"

Hearing the soft bubbles of the coffee behind her Keisha said, “Sir, every person in my firm has gone through a series of background checks. Not one of them has any crime in their history, not even a juvenile shoplifting one.”

“So, since that’s out,” Jack said, “What about other people, old friends, neighbors anyone you associate with- family members perhaps?”

“I am an only child; my mother has no siblings and the younger brother on my father’s side had died a few years ago. I have no cousins or relatives I know off.”

Agent Thomas grimaced slightly, “That must be hard.”

Stepping back to her kitchen Keisha released the pot and poured some of the aromatic brew into her empty cup, “You have a family, Agent?”

“A wife and two eight-year-old girls, twins, and a son on the way,” Dirk admitted with an undertone of pride.

“That’s admirable,” Keisha said while spooning in creamer and sugar, “What about you Mr. Nichols?”

“I’m a widower actually and my daughter just had her first child," Jack said evenly.

“My condolences and congratulations,” Keisha said with compassion, “And what about you Mr. Blake, wife or children?”

Hunter laughed quietly, “Neither, and I stick to solely practicing, thank you.”

Keisha almost snorted in her coffee at the sour eye Agent Thomas gave the younger cop.

"Like I said," Keisha sighed and shot a look at her wall clock, "I have no idea how this happened. I run a tight ship and all my records are documented. Is there a possibility that I might have gotten hacked?"

“It’s a possibility,” Thomas admitted, “One we are looking into. But besides all this, can we get your assurance that you will stay in contact while the investigation is going on?”

“Of course,” Keisha added then walked to her purse and grabbed a pen and her business card and scribbled out her private number. “Here, you can always contact me.”

Thomas took the card with a nod, “Thank you for your cooperation, we’ll be in touch.”

“Sure," She nodded as the men walked away. Just outside the door, Hunter turned to her and Keisha felt that quickening of her pulse once more. Hunter's green eyes looked directly into hers with that searching look and Keisha pulled up the strength lying in the bottom of her gut and met his look boldly.

After a moment Hunter’s eyes met Kiesha’s, “Just want to warn you, don’t trust anyone. If you get any threatening phone calls or notes call us. If you spot anyone tailing you, take the plate or drive straight to the station. Criminals like these when they found out they’ve been made get nervous and act impulsively. Don’t trust anyone.”

Keisha nodded slowly, “Just so you know, I have a Glock 19 and I know how to use it.”

Hunter laughed quietly with glimmering eyes, “I’m sure you do.”

She rested her hip on the side of the door frame and crossed her arms under her bust, a move that accented her assets, and then allow some of her hair fall over her left eye, giving a mysterious air, “But if anything, else, can I call you?

The man’s eyes didn’t miss the motions and the edges of his lips tugged to a smirk, “I’m not some kind of knight-in-shining-armor, but I’ll do my best.”

Unconsciously, Keisha’s eyelids slipped down and she gave him a coy smile, “We’ll see, won’t we?”