The Fall of the Prodigal

by Michelle Lindo-Rice

Genres: African American Christian; African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

A condemned man, his two brides, and one untimely death.

Michael Ward is at the top of his game, and he doesn’t need anyone or anything. Money is his new best friend—until he’s arrested for a heinous crime. As much as he hates to admit it, Michael needs the help of his brother, Keith Ward, the man who stole his wife and children. Will Michael open his heart to forgive his brother?

Verona “Tiger” Stachs has been Michael’s attorney for years. She’s in love with him but is tired of being treated as his guinea pig. A lapsed Christian, Verona thought she was through with God, but she soon discovers He’s not through with her. Which relationship will she choose?

Keith Ward’s a prominent minister and family man, yet he yearns to rekindle his relationship with his brother. When Michael calls him, explaining that he desperately needs his help, Keith jumps at the chance to set things right with Michael. Will Keith be able to lead Michael into the light?

Release date: February 1, 2015

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Rape.

What an ugly four-letter word. The very idea was preposterous. He had been arrested for rape. Michael Ward shook his head, remembering the charges written under his mug shot. He did not have to take any woman by force. Look at him.

He was at the top of his game. He began as an architectural designer. Then he moved into real estate where he purchased, rebuilt, and resold properties. It took some time, but his name meant something in the hotel resort business. Patrons knew any building bearing the MJW seal signified quality and topnotch service, for a price, of course. He had two MJW hotels in New York City, three in Atlanta, two in London, and one in Dubai. He had spa resorts sprinkled across Florida, Texas, and Chicago, all with the MJW stamp of approval.

Now, after all his hard work to build his empire, Michael could not imagine a nineteen-year-old bringing him to his knees.

Last week, he had been cracking open a bottle of champagne, celebrating his newest property acquisition in Colorado. This week, he was squatting in the corner of a four-foot cell, waiting on Verona “Tiger” Stachs to post his bail and negotiate the terms of his release.

How had he gotten here?

He had been booked on multiple sex and assault charges and had almost lost his cool at his arraignment. The fact that it was September 11 was not lost on him either.

Someone had set him up, and once he was out of here, he intended to find that person and make him pay. For the past few years of his life, Michael had become an expert at payback.

“It’s all set,” Verona stated from the more desirable side of the bars. “You’ll be home within the hour.”

“Took you long enough.” He did not say thank you. He paid her an annual salary to the tune of $700,000 and felt she should be thanking him. Michael walked to the entrance of the cell. “Did you bring it?”

Verona wrinkled her nose at his rudeness. She reached inside her briefcase and retrieved a handkerchief and wipes and thrust them at him. “As you ordered.”

Michael wiped his face and hands. He couldn’t wait to take a shower and let the water run for days. He doubted he’d ever feel clean again. The stench of jail would remain with him. “What about the press?”

“The hounds are barking,” came the wry reply.

He glared. “Is this amusing to you? Do you know what it’s like to sit in this squalor inhaling the stink of dried urine and other body fluids I refuse to dwell on?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It was bad taste. It won’t happen again.”

Michael took pity on her. He was good-natured, but his reputation and life were on the line. This was no laughing matter. Verona had worked through the night to find a judge to grant his bail hearing. Thanks to her, he would spend the night in his own bed. He could cut her some slack. “I’m sure I’ll laugh about this at some point in my life,” he said in a gentler tone, “but for now, I want to get home.”

Verona yawned and stretched, but her eyes were still sharp. “Let me go over the terms of your release.”

The guard on duty unlocked his cell. Michael used the handkerchief to touch the iron door as he came out. His first stop was the restroom. Next, Verona led him to a small meeting room. On the table, he saw Chinese food, juice, and coffee. The aroma of chicken lo mein and beef with broccoli filled the room. His stomach growled and his mouth watered. Michael twirled some of the noodles around the small plastic fork and took a bite. He smiled. “Thank you.”

“With your estate, the judge sees you as a flight risk. Therefore, your business assets, bank accounts, and credit card accounts have all been frozen. You must surrender your passport.”

Michael munched as he processed Verona’s words. He felt like punching a wall but took another bite of his food instead. He was not a criminal. It was debasing to be treated as such, but what choice did he have?

He wiped his mouth. “Where do I sign the papers?”

“The press is camped outside the police station. You’re worldwide news. The chief of police agreed to shuttle you home in an unmarked police car. I’ve arranged for a stand-in to lead them off your trail.”

“I like the way you think.” Michael arched his eyebrow in appreciation. She was smart, cunning, and deserved every dollar he was paying her.

“There’s one other thing. I can’t represent you. I specialized in criminal trial in law school and I practiced for a short time so I was able to fill in tonight. But you need the best. I have some referrals.”

“No, I have someone in mind.” Michael tapped his fingers on the table. He knew the perfect person. It had been years since Michael had spoken to him. There was no time like the present.

“Great! Who is he? Give me his name. I need to brief him.”

“I’ll have to handle this one myself.” He did not relish begging, but he needed someone with tenacity and a proven track record of winning hard-to-prove cases. There was only one man who fit that bill.

“Do I know him?” Verona asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact you do.” Michael said. “Do you remember when you handled my paternity case?” He referred to the time when he had pursued custody of the two children from his previous marriage. Michael knew they were not his, but he had wanted them. It was selfish. In his defense, he had been on a different track then.

“Oh, yes, I remember. If memory serves me right, didn’t you drop that case? Wait a minute, wasn’t it against—”

He cut her off. “I sure did after I found out—”

“What happened? What aren’t you telling me?” Perched on the edge of the seat, Verona’s eyes shone with curiosity.

Michael clammed up when he saw the interest in Verona’s eyes. He knew she was curious to know why he had suddenly dropped the custody case three years ago. He had not told her then, and he did not intend to now.

Michael dropped the case when he learned he had fathered his own children. No one but his mother knew about his fraternal two-year-old twins. Twins he had never seen.

Old hurt surfaced. Michael hardened his heart. He did not share too much of himself anymore. Not after he had been burned by love.

He said, “What you may not remember is my ex-wife’s husband, Keith, is a former attorney. I plan to ask him to lead my defense if we go to trial. Note the word ‘if.’”

“The likelihood is one hundred percent,” she said. “Wait. Are you talking about the same Keith I’m thinking of? Minister and host of Second Chances you put on blast on national television, when you revealed he’d slept with your ex-wife and fathered her two children? That Keith?” She looked at him like he was crazy.

Michael dared her to say something. He had not gotten where he was in business by being a coward. When he wanted something, he went after it with dogged tenacity. Right now, he wanted—no, needed—Pastor Keith Ward.

The man who had stolen his wife.

His brother.

“You can’t be serious about representing him! You haven’t practiced law in years. Have you forgotten what that man did to you, me, and our children on live television? And, did you forget he was a no-show at his own mother’s funeral?”

“How can I? You’ve been reminding me about it for weeks. He’s my brother. I’m going to take the case.” Keith Ward addressed Gina Ward, his wife of three years, with as much patience as he could muster.

Gina jutted her chin. “And, what about the church? Did you forget the four thousand members of Zion’s Hill who depend on you every week?”

“Did you forget I have several qualified people like Bishop Combs and Deacon Broderson who are more than capable of delivering the Word? I’m not abandoning the television show or the church. I’m taking a hiatus while I help Michael. He’s my blood. I have to help him.”

Gina’s face crumbled. “He’s your brother but he’s also the one who put Trey and Epiphany through hell. You might be able to forgive, but I won’t ever forget, and you’re all kinds of foolish for even talking to him. Michael is not the man you knew as a child. He’s bitter and evil. For all we know, he could’ve staged this whole thing to get close to you.”

Keith looked up from his law journals. This time she had call him foolish, which was better than stubborn mule, ox head, buffoon, or, his personal favorite, nincompoop.

“Not even Michael is that diabolical. He could spend the rest of his life in jail,” Keith said.

Her chocolate eyes darkened. “You mean to tell me after three years of excommunicating you, all he has to do is come begging and you jump to do his bidding? Some things never change.”

“He’s my brother and your ex-husband!” Keith said.

Gina clutched her chest. “Don’t remind me. You don’t think I regret marrying Michael because of guilt? You don’t think I regret walking down that aisle, all the while knowing I was in love with you?”

“I was making a point that Michael—”

“That Michael’s what?” she interrupted. “He’s not the same! He’s cold, unfeeling, and heartless.”

Keith glared. “How would you know?”

“Don’t you read the papers? He holds his employees to an exceptionally high standard. Any little mistake and they’re fired.”

“Don’t believe everything you read.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “It’s true. He bragged about it on CNN, said his clientele is particular and he prides himself on delivering the absolute best.”

“That’s business. This rape charge is personal. Even if he’s tough and demanding, it doesn’t mean he’s a monster,” Keith said.

“Quit defending him!” Gina yelled.

The woman was exasperating! “I’m taking the job.” He injected a note of finality.

Gina changed tactics. “Well, make sure you charge him four times whatever your retainer used to be,” she demanded.

Keith played with his tie. “I’m not accepting any money.”

“You mean to tell me you’re willing to bring this monster into our lives and disrupt our household for free?” Her chest heaved. “I’m not having it. Michael makes an obscene amount of money. You need to make him pay.”

Keith shook his head. “Gina, this isn’t about money for me. I make enough money from my stocks and investments to live a comfortable life. Plus, the church is more than generous.”

Her lip poked. “Yes, but you refused their money at first. If I hadn’t . . .”

“Honey, we both know you don’t care about money. This isn’t about finances. You’re holding on to a grudge, which will fester and rot if you don’t give it to God,” Keith said.

Gina clenched her fists. “He pays.”

Keith leaned farther into his chair and looked at her. How he loved this woman: his little spitfire. He could not believe she was his. Even when she aggravated him he had to smile. He could not help it.

“Don’t go showing me those pretty teeth of yours, ’cause they won’t distract me.” She rolled her eyes. “You think all you have to do is flash your dimples and I’m putty at your feet. Well, it’s not happening this time. I’m not caving.”

Before she was finished speaking, Keith was on his feet. He moved toward her. Gina read his intent and retreated. “Stay away from me, Keith Ward. If you come any closer, I’ll . . . I’ll scream.”

“You wouldn’t.” Like a lion, he cornered her until she was flush against the door of his office. He stooped to bite her ear. “Hmm. You’re wearing my favorite scent. Could it be you’ve planned this whole seduction?” He peeked under her shirt. Eyeing the lacy camisole Gina had on confirmed his suspicions.

“Well, is it working?”

He laughed. “Yes, your strategy is proving to be most successful.” Keith scanned the rest of her getup. “Are the kids awake?”

She shook her head. Her labored breathing clued him in that she was as excited as he was.

“Well, let’s make the most of it. Shall we?” he asked.

Gina batted her lashes. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”

He poked her on the nose. “No, it means I’m going to assure my wife she doesn’t have anything to worry about. There’s no need to fear anyone but God.”

She pushed against his chest. “Too late. I am afraid. I’m afraid of Michael Ward and his malicious ways.”

“You leave my brother to me,” Keith said. “I know how to deal with him. I’ve been praying for years for God to lead Michael home and put him back on the straight and narrow. This may be the means through which God is answering my prayer. It took a lot for Michael to call and ask for help. Believe me. I can’t turn my back on him.”

Gina’s face showed she did not follow his logic. Keith did not bother to explain. It would take too long, and he had a much better way to bring in Monday morning. He lowered his voice. “How about you let me give you a good morning welcome, before you take off for one of your ministries and leave me here all by my lonesome?”

She undressed with speed, a sure sign she was more than ready for some good loving.

Keith scooped Gina into his arms and headed for a small door. It opened to a sparse room, boasting a queen-sized bed. When they designed their home, Gina had the room built in. “For emergencies,” she’d said, slyly.

He had caught on and agreed. Making love to his wife was an emergency. One that required his immediate attention.

Later that day, Keith reviewed the court files and police report. Evidence and motive were both there. The accuser, Mindy Laurelton, was the daughter of one of Michael’s business partners, William “Bill” Laurelton. As Keith examined the statements, he could not picture the Michael the young lady described. Nor could he see his brother dating one so young, although there was an intriguing e-mail exchange.

Keith cupped his chin. Michael could be described as many things. A rapist was not one of them.

“Mr. Ward? Your brother’s here.”

Keith looked up and flashed his Jamaican housekeeper, Josephine “Josie” Smalls, a weary smile. He rubbed his eyes. “Okay, can you bring him back here?”

“I’ll go get him. I made oxtail and rice and peas if you’re hungry,” Josie offered, wiping her hands on the apron she always wore.

Keith looked at his watch, noting it was about three in the afternoon. “Thanks, Josie. I’ll wait for Gina to get home.”

Gina was out with Epiphany at Nassau Coliseum. Dora the Explorer was in town and Epiphany was ecstatic to go see her live. Trey was at basketball practice. Josie would pick him up and take him out for ice cream before bringing him home. Keith had it all planned down to a tee to avoid any run-ins with his brother and Gina and the kids.

He supposed he could’ve set up the meeting at the church, but Michael was his brother. He could not remain impersonal.

“Thanks for taking my case. The grand jury returned with an indictment and now I’ll have to stand trial. But I suppose you know all that.”

Keith looked up toward the voice and his eyes widened. It had been three years since the brothers had seen each other. Michael looked cold and hard, and he had lost weight. He looked lean, more like a runner, than the football player he had been throughout high school and college. Michael had shaved his head and his signature goatee. The new him would take some getting used to.

Keith rested his palms on his cherry oak wooden desk and stood. He extended his hand, knowing a hug would not be welcomed. “It’s been awhile. Sorry it took something so tragic to reunite us.”

Michael returned the handshake but didn’t waste time. “I’m here because I need you. You’re the only one I can trust.”

Keith arched an eyebrow. Trust. He never thought he would hear his brother use that word to describe him; “traitor,” “hypocrite,” were two that sprung to mind.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Michael said. “But, it’s true. My life is at stake and you’re the best. Name your fee. My freedom is worth any price.”

So, he was making this all business. Keith gritted his teeth. “You don’t have to pay me, brother. We’re family. I love you and I’m happy to use my skills to help your case.” He hunched his shoulders waiting for the venom to spew at his family comment.

Michael scoffed, slid into a chair and clasped his hands. “How are my ex-wife and my ex-children doing?”

Keith took a deep breath. Lord, give me strength. Lead me and guide me. Help me keep my cool. “My wife and children are well,” he emphasized in a brittle tone.

This was the first and last time he would invite Michael to his home, for now. He had relocated from his previous residence in Jamaica Estates to Garden City. His home was close to his church, which was an added bonus. Zion’s Hill was about twenty minutes away in the neighboring town of Hempstead.

Keith shuffled the papers on his desk to get down to business. “I’ve been looking over your file, and the evidence is damning. This is going to be a tough case.”

Michael followed his lead. “That’s your specialty, isn’t it?”

Keith saw the confidence reflected in his brother’s eyes and cautioned, “I’m going to do my best but it’s been years since I’ve practiced. I’ll need to do some research and I’ll have to hire an assistant. I definitely have my work cut out for me. I’ll need your full cooperation.”

Michael gave a dismissive wave. “You won’t need to hire an assistant. Verona will help.”

“Who’s Verona?”

“You remember the attorney I hired for the custody case?”

Oh, yes. How could he forget Verona Stachs? Michael had sued to take his children from him and Gina, their rightful parents.

“Yes. I do remember her.” He couldn’t disguise the edge in his voice. Maybe Gina was right. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He felt resentment rise, along with his own guilt, and silently prayed, I rebuke this feeling, in Jesus’ name. God had delivered him, given him a second chance, and Keith wasn’t about to dwell in the past.

He knew God had a hand in all this. Somehow, his brother would be led to Christ. Michael would find the right path.

“What do you need from me?” Michael asked.

The question brought Keith back to the present. “I need you to tell me everything. I need to know every contact you’ve ever made with Mindy Laurelton. Leave nothing out. Tell me the whole sordid truth.”

“There’s no sordid truth to tell more than I didn’t do it.” Michael’s voice was firm but his eyes pleaded with Keith’s. “You’ve got to believe me. I know how it looks, but I’m innocent.”

For the first time since he entered, Keith saw humanity in his brother’s demeanor. Underneath that tough guy cloak was a scared man, afraid of losing it all.

“I believe you. Tell me everything that happened,” Keith said.

Michael exhaled. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“How about you start with Mindy and the e-mails? Start by telling me why you made it very clear in your note you had no problem taking her by force.”

“That man is infuriating!” Verona plopped her Burberry satchel on the white Samoa Italian leather sofa she’d snagged at 30 percent off for $9,000. She yanked her teal blouse out of her white pencil skirt and sank into the couch, ignoring the panoramic view of Central Park from her penthouse. Well, it was not really hers. She lived in the five-bedroom penthouse courtesy of Michael Ward.

In her haste, Verona twisted her ankle, almost breaking her five-inch red bottoms. “Awww!”shescreamed. “Michael Ward is going to pay for these Louboutins.” She snatched the offensive shoe and its partner off her feet and tossed them across the floor.

Her cell phone buzzed. She did not feel like talking to anyone. I ought to let it go to voicemail. Nevertheless, she dug inside her bag until she had located it.

Nigel Lattimore’s face filled her screen. Verona pressed the answer button. “What do you want?”

“I hear you’ll be working with my former client,” he drawled.

Verona rolled her eyes. “And what of it?”

“Didn’t you tell me you were quitting Ward Enterprises? So, what gives?”

“Nigel, I don’t have time for you,” Verona screamed. “And, I certainly don’t owe you any explanations! Why are you calling anyway? I only answered because I knew you’d keep calling until I picked up. Ugh, you’re so annoying!”

Again, he did not take the bait. “To offer my services as I know this isn’t your specialty. I told you we should start our own firm.”

“As if . . .” Verona heaved a long sigh. She heard his chuckle and cursed herself for allowing Nigel to get to her. He needled her on purpose, and when it came to him, she was an easy target. “I don’t need your help. Besides, I wouldn’t open a firm with you no matter how you plead. You don’t have the capital,” she bragged.

“Not everyone can be as lucky as you to score such a cushy retainer.”

She grinned before serving a jab of her own. “How’s Rupert?”

“His name is Raymond. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Verona snickered; pleased she had gotten under his skin. Nigel was a preacher’s kid, hailing from Tampa, Florida. He had moved to New York, away from his father’s prying eyes, to live with his life partner. No one knew. Except for her. She had found out by accident when they were back at Stanford.

She and Nigel had dated for a year and a half. He was the perfect gentleman, saying he did not believe in sex before marriage. Verona had been charmed by his old-fashioned ways until she caught him with his pants down.

Needless to say they were through after that.

He turned the tables on her. “Does Michael know you’re in love with him? Have you confessed your true feelings, yet?”

In a swift move, Verona cut the line. Take that, you creep. One lonely night at the bar they had bumped into each other and she had blabbed. Big mistake.

Her cell phone buzzed again. This time she saw Michael’s face. She answered the phone. “I made it clear I wasn’t going to continue on your case. I did specialize in criminal law but . . . it wasn’t for me.”

“For what I’m paying you, I own you.”

Verona snarled. “Listen, you might sign my checks, but you don’t own me. No one owns me. The fact that you’d fix your mouth to say something like that is offensive.” She paused for a second. “Is this what you do to women? Treat them like your property? No wonder you have a rape charge.”

Verona sucked in her breath and covered her mouth. Had she uttered those dreadful words to her boss? “Michael, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

He was not rattled by her accusation. “Why are you angry? Hundreds of attorneys would jump at the chance to work with the legendary Keith Ward.”

Because I’m in love with you. Because I can’t watch you lose this case.

“Because you need the best and it’s not like you can’t afford it. I’ll be more than happy to write a check on your behalf,” Verona said.

“Quit being modest. It doesn’t suit you. You’re ruthless, you’re vicious, and you know the law.”

There was a time when Michael’s words would have been enough for her. But words were not a warm blanket at night. She was ready to fall in love and settle down. She wanted the babies, the pacifiers, the . . . everything.

“You’re right. I am the best. But, there’s more to me. I’m more than all that. . .