Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father by Tiana Laveen

Author:Tiana Laveen [Laveen, Tiana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Erotica
ISBN: 9781492323457
Google: fGc9ngEACAAJ
Amazon: B00EXWXXU0
Publisher: Createspace Independent Pub
Published: 2013-09-15T22:37:22.897000+00:00

~***~

Two weeks later…

“Pon de river! Pon de bank!” Saint chanted in his faux Reggae voice over the tunes of Elephant Man, causing Hassani and Dakarai to burst out laughing at the sight of him moving his body to and fro to the beat. He gripped Isis in his arms and dipped her, as if they were in a ballroom competition. He caught Xenia out the corner of his eye placing glasses and sippy cups on the table, a smirk on her face. The woman tried her hardest to not laugh, but resistance was futile.

“Kick out ya shoes because ya foot Dem nuh Cramp!... a lock Jamaican an Bronx!”

She shook her head. “Saint, you’re crazy. That’s funny. You actually really sound like him when you do that.” She continued to laugh as she disappeared from view. He slowed once he heard the doorbell and before he could cross the room, his daughter gripped his fingers, a strange expression on her face. He glared at her, unsure what to make of it. Then, there was a hard knock. Saint paused and stared at the closed door. Xenia peeked around the kitchen entrance, her oven mitt on.

“Did you invite someone over for dinner, baby?”

“No. I was going to ask you the same.” Saint drew closer and looked through the peephole. Three police officers stood there, one taller than the others. The cop smirked and waved.

“Hassani, turn the music off for me please.” Saint waited as the boy walked swiftly to the music center wedged between two large, concert sized speakers. Like a pro, after seeing his father do it numerous times, he hit three buttons and the sound ceased.

Saint stabbed the intercom and cleared his throat.

“May I help you gentlemen?”

“Is this Dr. Saint Aknaten?”

“Yes it is.”

“We would like a word with you please.”

Saint’s tongue thickened and heat rose in every limb of his body. He swallowed and called out to Xenia.

“Baby!”

“Yeah, did you find out who it was?” She came out the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s the police.”

“The police?!”

“Dr. Aknaten, we need a word with you please!” the officer repeated, this time with obvious annoyance.

“I don’t know what this is about, Xenia.” He handed Isis to her. “Please take the children in the kitchen.”

“Hassani and Dakarai, come on and get ready to eat.” The boys huddled around her, but looked over their shoulders at their father as they walked slowly away. The party had come to an abrupt end. Saint unlocked the double front doors, opened the right one, and stood to the side, motioning the three cops to march in, single file.

“Hello, Dr. Aknaten. I’m Officer Reynolds. This is Officer Dale and this is Officer Kerney. Nice place you have here.” The man looked around the house, his legs in a cowboy stance, large hands on his narrow hips. His lips twisted and nose wrinkled, as if he’d gotten a whiff of something rank. Then he shot Saint a look, as if to say, ‘what is an ass like you doing with a nice crib like this?!’

“I bet the mortgage is something wild.

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