Private Property Read online

  Private Property

  La Jill Hunt

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue - Qualified Buyer

  Chapter 1 - Bishop Walter and First Lady Olivia Burke, 1547 Harrington Way

  Chapter 2 - Riley Rodriguez, 1726 Harrington Court

  Chapter 3 - Peri Duboise, 1974 Harrington Way

  Chapter 4 - Jonah Harrington, 1976 Harrington Way

  Chapter 5 - Micah Burke, The Guesthouse, 1547 Harrington Way

  Chapter 6 - Lisa Wells, 6524 Harrington Crest

  Chapter 7 - Malachi Burke

  Chapter 8 - King Douglas

  Chapter 9 - Bishop Walter Burke

  Chapter 10 - Marcus Wells, 6524 Harrington Crest

  Chapter 11 - Sarena Powell Douglas (Scorpio)

  Chapter 12 - Eden Rodriguez

  Chapter 13 - Lisa Wells

  Chapter 14 - King Douglas

  Chapter 15 - Malachi Burke

  Chapter 16 - King Douglas

  Chapter 17 - Marcus Wells

  Chapter 18 - Riley

  Chapter 19 - Eden

  Chapter 20 - Bishop Walter Burke

  Chapter 21 - Scorpio

  Chapter 22 - Lisa

  Chapter 23 - Malachi Burke

  Epilogue - Jonah Harrington

  Urban Books, LLC

  300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109

  Farmingdale, NY 11735

  Private Property Copyright © 2019 La Jill Hunt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-6228-6271-9

  eISBN 13: 978-1-62286-272-6

  eISBN 10: 1-62286-272-4

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  Prologue

  Qualified Buyer

  Darby Davidson was tired. She had been showing houses to her latest clients all day long: an NBA player and his fiancée, whom he introduced as Squirt. She couldn’t have been a day over 22. Darby figured the marriage, if they made it to the altar, would last all of forty-five days based on their interaction. His money would be better spent on a two-bedroom luxury condo and an investment fund, but he was hell-bent on buying a “dream crib with all of the fixin’s so all the haters and the chicks who dissed me see what they now missin’.” Darby suggested otherwise, but he wasn’t trying to hear it. He told her he wanted the biggest house his money could pay for, and right now, he had quite a bit. The bill for her two preteen sons’ braces and their upcoming vacation trip to Hawaii told her she needed all the commission she could get.

  But so far, none of the houses they had seen were what he wanted. She decided to take a chance and bring him to a new development, hoping she would have some luck there.

  “This place is far,” Squirt whined from the back seat of Darby’s Range Rover.

  “It is located in a secluded area, but that’s a good thing,” Darby told her, trying not to sound frustrated. She seemed to have a problem with every house they had seen, yet she wasn’t putting up a dime.

  “That means no one will be popping up on us out here. I like that!” Her client smiled and nodded, his face hidden behind the huge sunglasses he wore. “All of this is new construction?”

  “Yes,” Darby told him. “Right now, there are only about a dozen homes completed, including the one I’m about to show you. The neighborhood sits on approximately one hundred and twenty-three acres, and once it’s finished, there will be approximately sixty homes, give or take. There are also several amenities, including a kid’s play park, beautiful gardens, and some of the homes sit on the waterfront, which is a man-made lake.”

  “The Manors of Harrington Point.” He read the sign as Darby turned into the community. There was a centurion-style gatehouse and sculptured brick walls that lined the lushly landscaped entrance. Flowering trellises, winding brick walkways, and iron branches graced the edges of the main roadway and the park area. As she continued driving, they were greeted by a sweeping bridge, which led to a fifty-foot glass dome pavilion and a cascading waterfall. “This place is amazing.”

  “This place is far!” Squirt sighed.

  “It is beautiful,” Darby said, ignoring her comment.

  “I don’t wanna stay way out here. This ain’t even a gated community. What type of stuff is that?”

  “Like I explained, it’s a new development, and there aren’t a lot of residents. Right now, it’s very private and very secure, so a gate isn’t necessary. And there are plans to have continual rolling security as more homes are built.”

  “It must not be no important people who stay out here,” Squirt said.

  “That’s not true. There are some very prominent residents: famous actors, singers, producers, athletes . . .”

  “How much do these houses run?” he asked as they made their way through the neighborhood.

  “The average right now is about three to four,” Darby told him.

  “Three to four hundred thousand?” Squirt questioned.

  “Three to four million,” Darby corrected her.

  “I know that house ain’t cost no three million dollars.” Squirt pointed at one of the smaller houses they were passing.

  “Actually, that’s the home of the man who owns all of the property in Harrington Point,” Darby told them. “He lives there.”

  “He owns all this land and lives in that small house?” He laughed.

  Darby looked over at the house they were referring to. It did seem small compared to the other houses in the Point, but Darby didn’t consider 5,300 square feet small. The house also sat on the largest lot. Rumor had it that the land belonged to the Harrington family for several hundred years and was passed down from generation to generation. It sat vacant for years, until finally the owner’s great-great-grandson came forward and decided to have a vacation home built on the lake as a surprise wedding gift for his bride-to-be. The construction had just been complete when, sadly, his fiancée died unexpectedly in her sleep. For a while, they even suspected him of killing her, until they found that she died from natural causes. Shortly after her death, he decided to move into the home and develop the neighborhood. From what Darby understood, he was a multimillionaire ten times over, but you would never be able to tell it.

  She continued down the streets until they arrived at the house for sale. She pulled into the circular driveway to the covered front entrance and parked. The house was Darby’s favorite listing. It was one of the largest homes in the neighborhood and was her dream home. Every potential buyer to whom she had shown the house had also fallen in love with it, but so far they all opted to have theirs custom built on the available lots.

  “This place is huge!” he gushed, hopping out of the truck.

  Darby didn’t know which of their outfits fit the tightest: his skinny jeans and T-shirt or Squirt’s sequined halter mini-dress. She had to admit, despite his fashion choices, he was an extremely handsome young man, and he seemed to have a genuine heart, which was why she tried to give him sound real estate advice and direction. She also wanted to tell him that he may want to hold off on
giving Squirt his last name, but she felt that would be overstepping.

  “It’s ten thousand square feet,” Darby told him. “Six bedrooms, six bathrooms, and ten fireplaces.”

  “Damn,” he said, taking off his sunglasses.

  Darby opened the door, and he followed her inside. “Marble flooring, state-of-the-art kitchen, all the amenities you want, and more.”

  “Wow,” he said, walking around. “Squirt, do you see this?”

  They turned and noticed she wasn’t even in the house. Darby found her outside standing on the manicured lawn, talking on her phone. “I told him that, Ma!”

  “Squirt, what are you doing? Come inside. You gotta see this place!” he told her as he stepped outside.

  “I don’t wanna go in. I don’t like it.” Squirt tossed her long blond hair extensions over her shoulder and put her hand on her hip.

  Darby was confused. This home was the biggest and most fabulous house that she had shown them, so she thought it was a shoo-in. Based on his reaction, she knew he felt the same way.

  “You haven’t even seen it.”

  “What’s wrong?” Darby asked, walking over to the couple.

  “I don’t like the vibe out here, and it’s too far. My mama ain’t even gonna be able to take the bus out here.”

  “My point exactly,” he mumbled.

  “What?” Squirt snapped.

  “I mean, my point is that we can send a driver to get her when she wants to come out here,” he quickly said.

  Darby stared at the young couple. “Why don’t we just take a quick peek inside so you can—”

  “I don’t wanna look inside. Look, I need to get home. Come on, I’m ready to go!”

  “But we didn’t even finish looking—” He paused, stared, then nodded at a car that was driving down the street. They all watched as the four-door Porsche passed by, driven by a female wearing dark shades.

  “Who was that?” Squirt snapped, looking over at her fiancé.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “That car was hot!”

  “I swear! This is exactly what I be telling you!” Squirt yelled.

  Darby took a step away from the couple, hoping they weren’t going to create a scene. Although the neighborhood was fairly empty, she didn’t want to run the risk of anyone looking out their windows or driving by and seeing them arguing on the front lawn.

  Looking at Squirt like she was crazy, he asked her, “What are you talking about?”

  “You out here waving at bitches like you ain’t put a ring on my finger a month ago.” Squirt held up her finger, which held one of the biggest diamonds Darby had ever seen.

  “When did I wave at anybody? Did you see me wave?” he turned and asked Darby. She just shrugged.

  “Is that why you wanna move way the hell out here? To be closer to that skank?” Squirt stood directly in front of him. His six foot, nine inch body loomed well over hers, but she didn’t seem to care. She squared off with him as if they were the same size and she could take him down.

  “I don’t even know who that was, I swear.”

  “If you wanna buy this house, then fine, but I ain’t living here wit’ you, that’s for damn sure,” Squirt said and headed for Darby’s truck.

  Clearly embarrassed, he looked over at Darby and said, “She’s tripping. I do wanna see the house. Maybe we can do this some other time without her.”

  “That’s fine. Let me lock up the house.”

  Another wasted damn day, she thought as she took one last glance into the gorgeous home. She glanced down at her watch. It was late, and it would be an hour-long drive back to her office, where her client’s Maybach was sitting in the parking lot waiting for him and Squirt. She still had to pick up her boys from soccer, help them with homework, prepare dinner, prepare them for school, and go over paperwork for her staff meeting in the morning. If she was lucky, the one bottle of chardonnay she had chilling in the fridge would be enough to help her relax from the day and get through the full night she had ahead. In a perfect world, she would have met an amazing, handsome, funny, successful guy who was a great role model for her sons and a great lover for herself.

  Better luck next time.

  Chapter 1

  Bishop Walter and First Lady Olivia Burke, 1547 Harrington Way

  Olivia Burke slipped her feet into the leather slippers lying in front of the sofa, and she stood up. She was tired, and as hard as she tried to stay awake until her husband got home, she wouldn’t be able to. The church Walter was ministering at tonight was only an hour away, and she thought he would have been home by now. It was already nearly two o’clock in the morning, but knowing her husband, he had probably gotten caught up talking to some of the other ministers after the revival service and hadn’t even left yet.

  As the bishop and founder of one of the largest megachurches in the state, Walter Burke was always in high demand. From local pastors just starting out who needed encouragement, to business owners looking for an opportunity to get into his ear about the next “big thing,” people sought not only spiritual advice but investments in their ideas. Over the years, her husband had grown into a patient man, willing to listen when he could. He had evolved over the nearly thirty years that they had been married, and she loved him even more now than she had when they first met.

  As she walked out of the den of their massive $4 million palace they called home, her eyes fell on a framed photo of the two of them. It was a bit faded, taken on one of their first dates, and they looked almost unfamiliar to her now. They had come a long way from the teenage couple who both grew up on the streets of Detroit in the late sixties. Walter was her first love, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Then again, she never would have imagined the life they were living now.

  Her eyes fell on another picture of their twin boys, Malachi and Micah. The 2-year-old boys in the photo dressed in identical blue and white sailor suits were now twenty-eight, tall, and handsome. But their similarity in looks was the only thing her sons had in common. Micah now served as the youth pastor of Greater Works Assembly of Faith, founded by his father. Malachi was serving in another capacity, as an inmate in a low-security prison for the past eighteen months. Unlike her husband, who refused to go and visit their son, Olivia made it a point to go and visit at least once a month. Olivia remembered the last visit.

  “You’re looking even more handsome than the last time I saw you, baby,” she told Malachi when she hugged him. She wasn’t lying. His six foot frame held his 200-pound athletic build well. Both of her boys had their father’s strong chin, seductive brown eyes, and thick eyebrows. From her, they inherited their smooth, caramel complexion, dimpled smiles, and unbelievably straight teeth without the help of braces.

  “You say that every time you see me, Mama.” Malachi hugged her back. They walked around the yard of the facility.

  Olivia always made it a point to keep their conversation light and casual, mostly about her duties in the church and the members Malachi was familiar with. She rarely brought up his father or brother, because she knew there was a chance it would cut her visit short. However, knowing her son’s release date was approaching, she decided to test the waters.

  “Well, I am biased, but it is the truth. You know your mama doesn’t lie. Besides, I won’t have to say it much longer, because you only have a couple more weeks until I get to see you every day.” Olivia smiled.

  “Yeah, I can’t wait to get out of here, but I don’t know about seeing you every day,” Malachi laughed.

  “I am already getting your room ready. The new house is amazing, and I know you’re gonna love being home. We’re planning a dinner—”

  “Mama,” Malachi interrupted her. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what, Malachi?” Olivia stopped walking and turned to face her son.

  “Don’t make any plans for me when I get out of here. I’m good.” He shrugged.

  “I know you’re good, and it’s gonna be good for you to be home.”
/>   “That won’t be happening, Mama. Don’t play. You already know that.”

  Olivia shook her head. “Why won’t it be happening? We are your family. I understand the relationship between you and your brother and father is strained right now—”

  “You think?” Malachi laughed. “I don’t think the great Bishop Walter Burke would be too happy having his ex-convict of a son at the crib. You know that. And neither would his puppet, Micah.”

  “Don’t be rude, Malachi. I raised you better than that,” Olivia said sternly. “Your father and brother love you very much, and so do I.”

  “This has nothing to do with love, Mama. Come on, neither one of them has taken the time to visit or even write to me in the past year and a half.”

  “You know both of them have been extremely busy. And your father has made sure you have been well provided for during this entire ordeal. Do not discredit that,” Olivia told him, trying not to become upset.

  “Yeah, he made sure I had a good lawyer and money on the books every month. He should get the ‘Father of the Year’ award. Where are the nomination forms? Mama, please don’t stand here and try to defend him—”

  “I’m not defending him.”

  Malachi sucked in and quickly said, “Fine, maybe defend isn’t the right word. How about justify his actions or lack thereof while I’ve been in here? Or Micah’s. It’s okay. I am good, and I will be good once I get out of here.”

  “Malachi, I want you home.”

  “I love you, Mama, but that’s not my home. It’s yours.” Malachi shook his head.

  “It’s our home. You have just as much right to be there as anyone else. As a matter of fact, we’ve made provisions for you to be there. The house is everything you could ever imagine and more. It’s our dream house, Malachi. Remember when you were little and you would draw pictures of mansions and hang them on the refrigerator and say, ‘Mama, one day we are gonna live in a house like this!’ Well, that’s where we live.” Olivia laughed. “I just knew you were gonna end up being an architect.”