Love Me, Trust Me

Rafe carelessly threw his phone on the gleaming glass desk and went to stand in front of the window.

Strange how relative fame as a basketball player and financial success had changed people's attitudes towards him. The same people who would've spat on him rather than talk to him or even give him food to eat, now courted him for his business acumen.

Most of the people he dealt with didn't even know the dump where he grew up existed. And even if they did, the place wasn't close to the hellhole today that it had been thirty years ago.

He'd spent the last five years working his ass off to prove himself, to get the bank up and running. And still, to some of these people, he'd always be a basketball player from the slums. No matter how successful he became. Five years ago, a woman had convinced him that she loved him, that she didn't care about his background as a juvenile delinquent. He fisted his hands and then deliberately relaxed them. It was pointless to dwell on that betrayal.

Something crawled down Rafe's spine, that feeling described as someone walking over your grave. The fine hairs on his body stood on end as if a primal part of him sensed a presence. He turned, and for one moment, he wondered if he'd been transported into the twilight zone. Two pairs of identical, hostile, blue eyes stared at him. If he'd been sitting, his desk would've hid their faces from the nose down.

They looked oddly familiar. He didn't know children, but he judged them to be about three or four years old, and they would've been identical except that one of them had a slight upward slant to his eyes.

Something about those blue eyes, that contrasted strikingly with their dark skin tone, tugged at his memory. Their gazes burned with such intelligence, they glowed like diamonds glittering in the sunlight. They also blazed such sheer hatred at him, it took effort not to flinch. That emotion sat wrong on the little faces. It was obscene for such young children to know such a harsh emotion.

"Please, you have to believe me, Rafe, these are your children I'm carrying." The memory came out of nowhere, hitting him like a one-two punch. Why would that voice from the past haunt him today? Why did he keep thinking of her? Rafe pushed that thought down with the same ruthless determination he'd used to rebuild his life five years ago.

Rafe sat down in his chair and smiled at them, making sure to show lots of teeth. "You guys could make money in the intimidation business. I might have a job for you when you grow up." He'd point them at the asshole with the plummy accent who'd just tried to intimidate him. He'd noticed that people raised with violence either became twitchy or immune to violence. After facing gangs and drug dealers and domestic violence that killed your soul, few things scared or intimidated him. Whether that was a good or bad thing was anyone's guess.

They didn't react, just continued to stare at him, and he suspected they knew very well how intimidating they were. Unfortunately, they'd chosen the wrong victim. The silence lengthened until the kids exchanged a meaningful look.

"We learned lawyers," the one on the left said at last, in a tone he probably thought was threatening. Well, actually it was, even coming from such a small person. Those identical blue gazes had The Shining going on big time.

"That's interesting." He didn't know much about kids, but weren't they supposed to ask you for candy or cry for their parents? These two looked like they could kill him and ensure that no one ever found the body. Again, he marveled at the intelligence that shone in those eyes. He shrugged off that foolish thought. They were only kids, almost babies. "Are your parents working in this building?" He'd never had any occasion to interact with his employees' children. He owned the building, but four of the twelve floors were hired by lawyers, accountants, and other businesses.

"We learned sewing," the talkative twin on the left continued, ignoring the reference to their parents.

"Sewing?" Rafe leaned back in his black leather chair and folded his arms across his chest, suppressing his amusement. He'd send his PA, Abbey, to look for their parents in a moment, when this conversation wasn't strangely amusing anymore.

The silent one bumped the talkative one and mumbled something.

"S-u-i-n-g," the child spelled out as if he spoke to a moron. Rafe had to grind his teeth together to not laugh. "We are sewing you, and you will pay us."

Hugely entertained, he relaxed back in his leather chair. Their serious expressions and unexpected words were a welcome diversion after a tedious morning spent talking to stodgy disapproving board members. "What will I pay for?" Who were these kids?

"You will pay for our school and a car for Mommy and the hospital bills."

He was about to ask them what made them think he owed them or their mother money, when the silent one mumbled again. Rafe suspected that his mumble was more dangerous than a run on his bank. They both fixed him with looks so angry, he had to check a recoil.

"We're gonna make you pay lots for making Mommy cry," the talkative twin said between clenched teeth. There was something familiar about their eyes, the shape of their faces. Did he know their parents?

Those blue eyes, their age - a possibility occurred to him, but he shrugged it off - that would be too big a coincidence. Weird how his thoughts kept circling back to her today. Could it be possible - could she have put them up to this?