Legacy: Tradition, #2

By Altonya Washington

Off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina, New Island was home to many things-among them stories of resilience and rebirth. New had been home to Zyon Hammond before depraved events of a long-ago night removed him from his home and the girl he loved.

Sixteen years later, Zyon runs the family business New Corp in Ohio along with his cousins, Frayzer Guthrie and Warwick Noble. Work keeps Zyon from lingering in perpetual heartbreak over the fiasco with first and only love, Moira Croix. Zyon knows he'll never get her back. Revenge is Moira's top priority and Zyon's name is first on her payback list.

Zyon makes it more than a little difficult for Moira to carry out her plans. She never stopped loving him, despite her best efforts to do so. Zyon meets her coldness with warmth, her hate with love, her stubbornness with seduction…and he's very good at it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AlTonya Washington
• Release date: Apr 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393838203

Altonya Washington

AlTonya Washington's first contemporary novel, “Remember Love” BET/Arabesque 2003, was nominated by Romantic Times as Best 1st Multicultural Romance. Her novel “Finding Love Again” won the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Multicultural Romance 2004. Her fourth novel “Love Scheme” was nominated as Favorite Steamy Novel for the prestigious EMMA Award of Romance Slam Jam. She presently resides in North Carolina.

Book preview

~PROLOGUE~

New Island, Charleston SC~ 16 years earlier...

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Seven, eight...

Zy? Zyon, you there?

Zyon Hammond’s mouth tilted into another smile as he tuned into the sound of his girlfriend’s husky voice filling his ear through the phone line. In spite of that, concern still lurked in his light eyes.

On the other end of the line, Moira Croix sighed. Zyon...

Yeah... his response was an absent-sounding one.

Should I take that to mean you’re fine with me coming over?

Mmm hmm... Zyon left his bed to shut off the only lamp still burning in his room. A frown drew long, blondish-brown brows close over a gaze that was undeniably fierce despite his 16 years of age.

Dammit Zy! Moira finally lost what little patience she had. What the hell is wrong with you? Where are you?

We um...we’ve got company, He grimaced at the phone then. And where else would I be on the house phone?

Well aren’t your folks allowed to have company? Moira snapped in return.

They didn’t say anything about a party, but I already counted eight pairs of headlights on the ceiling since we’ve been on the phone.

Well damn, Zy, Mr. Thad and Miss Ophy don’t have to tell y’all all their business.

Right, Zyon sounded as distant as ever.

Again, Moira sighed. I’m coming over.

No.

Zy-

Just stay home. I’ll call you back. Zyon cut her off and tossed the cordless to the bed. He turned back to peer out past the curtains. His windows overlooked the side of the house opposite the driveway. There were well over 12 cars parked already. He could see more headlights down the road to the house.

Thunderous noise in the distance had Zyon’s head swiveling from the windows. A hoard of earth shaking footfalls seemed to be descending down the hallway outside his bedroom door. Everything happened in a sequence of timing that, to Zyon, seemed to take the whole of 5 seconds.

He heard another brutal sound, that one, easily recognizable as a door crashing open. Russ’s room. What the hell had his idiot big brother done this time? Zyon wondered. There was no time to determine whether the room door of his other brother, Keene, had received the same treatment. The hoard was descending on his.

Light spilled into Zyon’s darkened room when the door connected with the wall behind it. The heavy wood shuddered in defeat as it swung away.

Zyon heard his father’s rough voice growling a lurid curse into the space.

Not my baby, too...

Zyon heard his mother’s voice then. Her softer, soothing tone was rattled by despair. The sound of her weeping had him getting past his fear and confusion enough to step out from the shadows.

Thaddeus Hammond gave a start when he saw his youngest son move into the hall light. Ophelia Hammond gasped and rushed forward to pull Zyon into a desperate clutch.

Boy, Thad’s voice maintained its feral tone, why are you here in the dark?

I was on the phone. I um...I turned off the lamps to check outside. What’s with all the cars in the yard, Papa? Zyon looked past his father’s broad build to the other broad bodies crowded outside his bedroom door.

Where are your brothers? Thad demanded.

Don’t know. Haven’t seen ‘em since this afternoon.

Thad moved in to cup his son’s cheek lovingly before ruffling Zyon’s light brown curls. Stay in your room, he ordered.

But I-

Shh... Ophelia put a lingering kiss to Zyon’s jaw. Do as your father says.

Zyon nodded, giving no further argument. He watched the door close, taking his parents and the light with them. He waited close to five minutes, head inclined in an effort to hear what morsels of information his parents and their guests might offer. Those voices faded as quickly as the stampede of footsteps brought the silent hallway to life.

Zyon waited another five minutes before making for the door. Gingerly, he pulled it open. The hall light was doused, but the medley of voices could still be heard. The noise drifted down instead of rising up from the bottom floor of the 3 story house. Thaddeus Hammond used the attic space for his home office.

Zyon checked for his mother and heard her voice drifting up. She was on the phone and seemed to be soothing another distressed mom. No doubt Ophelia Hammond knew much about what was going on. Still, his father’s office was where the full story lived.

Zyon was a regular visitor to his father’s oasis. There, dwelled atlases and reference books of all sizes and copyright dates. The resources were specific to the low country islands, many of which were uncharted. His cousins would've considered him insane if they knew how much he enjoyed pouring over the old books. Zyon believed it was pretty cool living somewhere the rest of the world didn’t know about.

On nimble steps, he took the back stairway that would lead right up to the office ante room door. Thaddeus used the space as a supply closet and Zyon only hoped he hadn’t locked it that night.

He hadn’t.

Zyon eased open the door and stepped in amid the mix of ledgers, pads and the old computer monitor and keyboards his dad hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of. He’d been inside the closet all of ten seconds when he heard the rumbling voices.

Lincoln Noble’s voice seemed to rumble the loudest-bark the loudest-was a more accurate descriptor. It was no surprise. The man nearly topped the 7 foot mark in height and seemed nearly as wide. A quick smile crossed Zyon’s mouth when he thought of his cousin Warwick. The guy was on tap to be as enormous as his father.

Zyon heard his own father’s voice boom then.

"It’s the twenty-first century goddammit! This isn’t what our ancestors wanted when they started this place," Thaddeus raged.

Whose ancestors would those be, Thad? Bronson Guthrie V managed to appear cool and pissed at once as he glared at his cousin. I assume you’re speaking of Josh Hammond and Lennox Croix? He referred to the white owners who had deeded New Island to their slaves.

Stand down, Bron, someone called from the back of the room.

Bronson was too far gone for that. "Our ancestors-our black ancestors-took this place, this thrown away swamp the whites tossed to us like garbage and made it a haven. Folks have forgotten New was to be a place of refuge. Elliott Taylor’s brainchild is ruining that!"

What are you afraid of, Bron? Lincoln Noble’s tone was surprisingly soft then, totally at odds with his formidable stature. Elliott’s hotel has brought in a vast new revenue stream for the island. He’s got the rest of us thinking about our own endeavors away from New Corp, he referred to the lucrative and privately owned corporation that supported the island and its residents. With locations in Ohio and Atlanta; both of which provided an enviable revenue stream, the company was on tap for more expansion in the coming years.

New Corp is all we need, Bronson Guthrie sounded like a stubborn child as he made the declaration.

Thad spit out a curse. All this because a white guest at that hotel thought you were an employee?

All this because that hotel is an abomination! Guthrie snapped, I say it’s time to remind the others what a mistake it was to turn their backs on heritage-on legacy.

What are you up to, Bron? Thaddeus Hammond’s tone held an unsettling quiet.

Guthrie grinned. I’m glad you asked, cousin. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout a lil’ ritual we’re all familiar with.

A string of curses took flight. Some were curses of dissention, others of agreement.

Linc, see reason, Fenton Noble urged his brother, keeping our distance from the mainland is vital if we wish to maintain our livelihood. Tourists start visiting and soon they’ll want to move here.

Then, it’s South Carolina circa ante-bellum all over again! Another voice rang out.

Damn right, Guthrie agreed.

Aemon Hammond laughed. That’s ludicrous!

Ludicrous, eh Aemon? Guthrie challenged, his dark, attractive features twisted morosely by hate. Ludicrous...why don’t y’all ask around about the consequences of all that modernization. Hilton Head, Daufuskie Island, hell you can barely find any of the Sea Islands that haven’t been affected by it and not for the better!

That’s not a racial thing, Bron, Lalee Guthrie tried to get his cousin to be logical. It’s about money and making more of it- a thing I believe the rest of us can all get behind.

I don’t know how many of you bother talking to some of our Geechee neighbors, Guthrie continued as though Lalee hadn’t spoken. There was a time you could hunt, fish, laze the day away all over that fuckin’ place. Now? You better have a damn resort membership or some other BS in hand to be admitted.

Who's talkin’ BS now, Bron? Lincoln Noble cut in. A lot of our neighbors on Hilton Head and Edisto, man they makin’ a killin’ off tourism!

Mmm hmm, yeah, a killin’-yessireeing and nosireeing and three bags full ma’am. Guthrie snorted. The only ones with nothin’ to complain about are the ones who don’t mind actin’ like good niggas coonin’ for the white folk.

Do you even smell what you shovelin’, Bron? Thad shook his head. You expect us to believe all this grandstanding you doin’ is ‘bout protecting all us good black folk?

Guthrie’s cold expression seemed to take another temporal dip. This is about protecting our way of life. Sending a... personal message to Taylor is the best way to do that.

What have you done?

Inside the storage cabinet, Zyon heard the quiet, flat timbre of his father’s voice. It was the octave that never failed to scare him and his brothers shitless.

Guthrie sounded more satisfied than scared. What’s the saying, Thad? ‘And a little child shall lead them’? Sometimes you need more than one.

Where are my sons, Bron? Thaddeus breathed out the query.

Fine boys, Guthrie’s smug tone had taken on a boastful undercurrent. I have to admit it makes me jealous to see a man with such honorable sons. ‘Specially when I think of the waste my own turned out to be. Fray would rather lay up in his aunt’s house playing the lover instead of honoring his ancestors.

Zyon’s heart lurched. No one was supposed to know that. No one, but him, Warwick and of course, Frayzer who had sworn them to secrecy about the plans with his girlfriend Ellia Taylor. The sound of Bronson Guthrie’s voice had Zyon snapping from his thoughts.

Suppose I can’t blame the boy. Taylor’s girl is quite a beauty. I guess I could let Fray enjoy her a little longer before I interrupt.

What are you planning? Lincoln Noble’s brother Luke asked once a hush had fallen over the room.

It’s time for the younger generation to be educated. I think the lesson will be more memorable when it’s one of their own doin’ the teaching.

The words had Zyon doubling over in an attempt to get his lungs to return to working order. Breathing, however, seemed to have deserted him and he couldn’t wait around for the luxury to return. He rushed from the closet as stealthily as he’d entered. Warning Fray was his top priority.

In the outer office, Thaddeus Hammond launched for his cousin. A stranglehold on the neck was his intention.

Guthrie evaded the contact. Think of your sons, Thad!

Guthrie defenders moved then, as though activated by the threat. Quickly, they walled in Bronson Guthrie, shielding him behind their bodies. Thaddeus, a sizable man in his own right, was no match for Lincoln who restrained him with an arm about the waist.

He ain’t worth it, T, Lincoln murmured near the other man’s ear. Not here, not with Ophelia and Zy here.

Where are they? Where are my boys? Thaddeus growled, his glare murderous.

"As I said, honoring their ancestors. It’d be good of you both to join us-good for all the Hammonds and Nobles to join." Guthrie declared.

Looks like you have enough of us, Thaddeus’ uncle Boris looked to his son Jericho, who stood as part of Guthrie’s guard wall.

Guthrie bowed his head to concede the older man’s point. Our message would be better received by the other founding families and those loyal to them if you were all there.

Never, Thaddeus breathed, still being restrained by Lincoln.

Guthrie shrugged. Suit yourselves, he made to turn and then reconsidered. You should remember that some of you have sons who are part of my camp. As much as I love having such strong, handsome young men on my team, I’ll gut them if any of you breathe a word of this to anyone who isn’t us. If you try devising some scheme to thwart tonight's events, you'll never see your boys alive again.

Guthrie regarded the members of his extended family who, that night, had become his enemies. Then, he and his supporters left the room.

~1~

New Island, Charleston SC~ Present

Moira Croix drew a fist and muttered a curse when she felt herself smiling. She’d forgotten how beautiful this place was, especially at night. Crisp, fresh smells of nature drifting through the tall grass, tree leaves and hanging moss to the vivid melody lilting among the frogs, crickets and other wildlife all called the island home. That she still found the beauty in it, wasn’t half as rattling as the realization that she had missed it.

The sound of a screen door slamming in the distance, caught her ear. In response, both hands squeezed the white shellacked veranda railing. Silently, Moira willed her protective shell back into place.

He cleared his throat once, but loudly enough to alert her to his presence which she had ignored. Tried to ignore.

Bin says you’re staying at The Taylor. Are you gonna head back there tonight?

Why? Moira kept her back turned. "So you’ll know where to bring the branding