Putting Love First

By Lynda Martin

Vivienne Nolan, lovingly referred to by family and friends as Mama Vee, is a God conduit. Whenever prayer is needed, call Mama Vee, and she calls on the Lord. Always understanding, nonjudgmental, and comforting, she offers loving support to all who need it. When a distinguished gentleman enters her life and proposes marriage, the family's God connection is threatened. Saying yes means a move from Oak Park to Phoenix—from all she loves and all who love her. Saying no means putting everyone else's happiness before her own. With great reluctance and much love, her children encourage a resounding yes. As Mama Vee settles into her new home with a loving, handsome husband, the need for big-time prayer comes in threes. An unsavory con artist and rapist escapes from Joliet State Prison, a drug dealer / ex-con sets up one last score that could kill his wife and daughter, and an almost-aborted baby is born with little chance for life. The three are interlaced and suddenly thrust directly into the lives of the Nolan clan. The outcomes promise to be deadly. Do they call Mama Vee or get down on their knees?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644621400

Book preview

One

I just don’t think that it’s such a good idea for her to leave Chicago. It’s her home, Roxanne wailed.

She was being petulant, upset with the fact that their mother was not only getting married but also moving to Phoenix; and she wanted her sisters to know how she felt! Walking over to the chaise on the far side of the large room, she flounced down onto it. Knees together and feet on either side of the bottom of the chaise, she sat with her elbows on her knees and her chin cupped in her hands.

Pouting, she glared at her sisters. Silently and patiently, both looked at her. She looked thirteen again, and she was giving them that same look she had given them so many years ago when she gave them silent hell for leaving her behind when they went on their dates.

Cheyenne did what she had done over thirty years ago when Roxanne tried to play the guilt card. She smiled patiently, shrugged, and turned back to the mirror, adjusting the white rose corsage on her left lapel. Brianne also returned to her task: she was busy putting the finishing touches on her makeup. But Brie being Brie couldn’t let Roxie’s seeming selfishness go without her having something to say.

Sister dear, it is mom’s turn at happiness. Or don’t you think so?

Cheyenne quietly watched the exchange from the mirror’s vantage point. She felt a little sorry for her baby sister. She knew that the thought of their mother moving to Arizona was not sitting well with her. Nobody else in the family was crazy about the idea, for that matter. But they all knew that her mother deserved happiness for the rest of her time here on earth. She had lovingly given herself unselfishly to her family, and now it was her turn.

But Roxanne just wasn’t ready to accept it yet. She rushed on, her voice rising slightly. She hasn’t even known him long enough to marry him. They just started dating. Defiant, she looked at first one and then the other, almost daring them to deny her statement.

When Daniel Shaw’s sister, Dora, was killed tragically last year, he had come to Chicago to bury her and help her husband settle her affairs. The murder had rocked the community because of its savageness and its link to a scandal that would have taken down a lawyer and a law firm—all in a vengeful act of retribution for a lover going to jail. Vivienne had attended most of the trial because it was her son-in-law who had been marked for that retribution.

Daniel and Vivienne met, and the attraction was instant for both of them. The family hadn’t realized until he attended her birthday party and they announced their engagement that it had gone a lot further than the occasional smile and hello at the courthouse. It had gotten serious!

Both sisters shrugged as if to say And? Belligerently, Roxanne waved her hands in the air to dismiss her sisters’ seeming lack of concern that their mother was getting married and leaving the family. Brianne rolled her eyes and gave her an exaggerated sigh.

Chill, girlfriend. Mom deserves some good lovin’ on a weekly, or maybe daily, basis too. And don’t look at me like that. Besides, from the looks of that tall gorgeous drink of water, she won’t be disappointed.

Eyes twinkling, she gave Roxanne a lewd leer and a wink. He’s been checked out, and we know my man’s got bank, if you intended to use that as your next excuse. With finality, Brie turned back to the mirror, and satisfied with her flawless makeup, she smiled.

John Shaft Williams, now a permanent member of the Nolan family, had used his investigative firm to quietly check out the husband-to-be. Daniel Shaw, a retired CEO of Kellogg’s, was divorced. The oldest of three, the loss of his beloved sister left Daniel with a brother, who was currently living in Europe. He had three grown children—one daughter and two sons—and four grandchildren. His estate sat on several acres in an exclusive suburb just west of Phoenix. His hobby and serious love was art. In particular, he favored Native American art.

He and one of his sons had opened a small exclusive gallery, and he traveled all over the western part of the country, acquiring native art of all types. Most of the art was painting, but it also included handcrafted works crafted by some of the most talented Native American artists in the country. From time to time, he himself would paint. His artwork was currently selling for up to $50,000 a painting.

His net worth was several million dollars, with his portfolio currently earning considerably more money, thanks to some shrewd investing, which added another few thousand monthly.

John’s intensive investigations overturned nothing more than a traffic ticket, for driving ten miles over the speed limit nearly seven years ago. His associations were with well-heeled retired professionals—attorneys, doctors, CEOs, and college professors. The product of Howard University, earning his master’s in business administration back in the midfifties, he was still a much sought-after speaker and consultant.

No one in the family could find fault with him. He loved Vivienne and treated her with so much love and respect that at times, her daughters gently admonished their spouses when they compared them to Daniel.

At times, they even suggested that their spouses go to him to get advice when they messed up.

He was a romantic, very good-looking, well-established, and well-off. The only concern any of the Nolans had was the fact that their mother would be thousands of miles away.

Roxanne, stubborn to a fault at times, tried one last time. Look, maybe we could talk him into moving here. Mom’s got a great house. He would love Oak Park and Chicago.

Her older sisters looked at her, understanding the eminent sense of loss, but they loved their mother and wanted her to be happy. Whatever it took.

Look at it this way. Mom has been there for every one of us whenever we’ve needed her to be. Now, it’s our turn to be there for her.

Cheyenne said this with finality, giving Roxanne a look that said, No more whining, please. Surprisingly, Brianne just sat quietly and listened to most of the interchange between her oldest and youngest sisters. Very different from her old self, there was none of her usual hitting-below-the-belt comments.

She sat placidly on the stool in front of the dressing table mirror. She closed her eyes momentarily and gave thanks—for her life and the baby’s. She would never forget how close she came to losing both. Smiling softly, she cradled her eight-month, almost-ready-to-be born bundle. It was God’s blessing to her and John, and she would be forever thankful. She hummed softly to her much-loved and much-awaited baby. She and John were ready for the arrival of the newest little Christoph.

She stood up carefully, slightly wobbly, putting her hands on either side of her on the table to balance herself. When she felt steady, she fluffed her hair. She checked her outfit, satisfied with what she saw. Because her mother and soon-to-be stepfather were getting married on Valentine’s Day, the wedding colors were—what else?—red and creamy beige.

Each sister was wearing her own personal selection, as long as it was red. Cheyenne, the matron of honor, had chosen a raw silk dress, deeply veed in front with long sheer sleeves, fitted to the elbow, and flared to the middle of her wrists. It was molded to her body, showcasing her perfect size 8 figure, flaring dramatically at the knee, and continuing to the middle of her long shapely legs.

Brianne was determined to still be sexy, even though she was ready to be a first-time mom any day now. Having gained only twenty pounds, the only give-away was the full, rounded bulge in the front. She had chosen an off-shoulder, lightweight wool coatdress. With a wide stiff satin collar that showed off her creamy toned shoulders and ever-growing bustline, it closed down the front with faux diamond buttons. Ending just above her knees, it featured her shapely legs. Although John had warned against it, she was wearing three-inch red satin rhinestone-studded pumps to finish the outfit. She had promised him that she would walk slowly and carefully.

Roxanne had lost her baby fat and was again a size 6. She had chosen a red wool crepe pantsuit. With satin lapels, the jacket buttoned at the waist and revealed an off-white lace bustier. The straight-legged cuffed slacks highlighted her long legs and revealed her red pointy-toed Jimmy Choo slings.

The sisters finished with their dress and checked their watches.

It’s time for me to check on the bride-to-be.

This was from Cheyenne, ever conscious of formality and structure. Before they could leave the room, their husbands came in. Each man looked resplendent in their black tuxedoes, with red satin vests, full ascot-formed ties, and matching pocket silks. Each man went and gathered up his wife, making a fuss over how she looked.

If looks could kill, I would die a very happy man.

Red has become my favorite color. I want you to wear only red from now on.

I say we just abandon the wedding and go home and make wild, passionate love.

Their wives enjoyed their good-natured, loving gestures, but only for the moment.

I love you, honey, but I really have to check on Mom. Is everything ready in the hall?

Cheyenne was anxious. She wanted everything to go perfectly for their mother. It was going to be one of the happiest days of her life, and there wouldn’t be anything that would prevent that. Not if she had anything to do with it.

Aaron, her husband of two years, seemed to only get better with age. At two inches over six feet, his broad shoulders, powerful arms, flat abs, and long muscular legs made him look twenty years younger than his fifty-five years.

His golden skin and startling green eyes made her breath catch in her throat. Walking over, he cuddled Cheyenne in his arms and kissed her soundly. Yes, my lovely wife. Most of the guests have arrived, the processional is ready, and the organist is entertaining everyone with her beautiful music.

As the eldest of her siblings, she had made it her duty to ensure that her mother’s blessed day went off without a hitch. She may not have been there for the first wedding, but she would give this one all she and the family had to make it go off without a hitch.

All of her mother’s family had a major part. Middle son, David, would be conducting the ceremony; oldest son, Damien, would walk their mother down the aisle, where Cheyenne and her sisters would be waiting; and youngest son, Donald, was responsible for taking care of the photography and the limousine service. He had hired the best in the business on both counts.

Grandson Jason was the ring bearer, and David’s trio would be singing a special song to his mother during the ceremony.

There were so many people whose lives the Nolan family had affected that when the upcoming wedding was announced, so many people had volunteered their services, and there had been very little for the family to do—or pay for.

It was to be a small intimate, elegant affair. David’s church had been very gracious in giving them full access to their large gorgeous building. There was an adequate number of rooms for changing and whatever else needed to be done.

The dinner would be held in the church’s large multipurpose center. Cheyenne had taken a peek at it earlier, and the room was breathtaking. With seating for one hundred, the ten tables were elegantly dressed in the colors of the wedding. The table for the bridal party was situated close to the guests. This was at Vivienne’s insistence.

A generous florist who was a member of David’s church had donated all the floral arrangements for the tables and the bouquet that Vivienne would carry. He had pshawed their insistence to pay him. He had been so grateful to Pastor David for helping him and his family during a particularly bad time that he was eager to repay him in any way that he could. He felt that this was the perfect opportunity to show his gratitude.

A young lady Vivienne had mentored a few years ago was now a successful sous chef. She and several close colleagues of hers would be catering the affair. Cheyenne had insisted on paying her for the cost of the very elegant menu she was planning and the time that they were volunteering. David had added their catering service to the church’s bulletin for the previous month to give them added clients.

Donald Jr. would be the deejay for the affair. He had talked with both his grandmother and grandfather-to-be to make sure that he had music that they would be able to dance to.

Satisfied that everything was finalized, Cheyenne began to give the last-minute orders. I’ll check on Mom. Roxie, you make sure that everything is set for the start. Aaron, check on Mr. Shaw please. Since his brother couldn’t be here, make sure that he doesn’t need anything. Okay, honey?

Smiling as he winked at her, he gave her a mock salute.

She continued, Brie, please check to make sure that the flower girls and the ring bearer are ready. Then you take it easy. We wouldn’t want anything to happen too soon, would we?

Brie, could you please check on Gracie for me? This came from Roxanne, who never let her beloved baby daughter out of her sight for too long. Although Keisha, now full-time nanny for both Jason and Grace, was watching her, Roxanne couldn’t be away from her for too long without knowing what was happening.

Brie smiled and waved as she toddled over and took her husband’s hand. She and John hugged each other and nodded, grinning broadly and lovingly at each other. Everyone was in a flurry in the large room as they took to their tasks, moving with a sense of urgency that each tried hard to hide.

Cheyenne moved down the hall in the large church, looking for the room that she knew temporarily housed her mother. The door was closed, and she knocked softly. Mom? Is it okay to come in?

Waiting momentarily, she opened the door and peeked in. Her aunt Sabra, her mother’s youngest sister, was in the room with her. Cheyenne hugged and kissed her aunt quickly and then turned to walk over toward her mother. She stopped suddenly, gasping in surprise.

Vivienne was standing in front of a mirror, smoothing down the front of her long ecru-colored satin skirt. The slim skirt was fitted, with a deep slit in the back. The matching jacket was long-sleeved with satin lapels and cuffs, a jeweled button holding it closed. Her long raven hair, streaked with silver, was wrapped in a matching satin Kente-like wrap, with pearl studs in her ears. Her beige stockings and beige pumps finished the regal picture.

Well…what do you think?

Her mother’s eyes were sparkling, her unlined light nut-brown skin glowing. With no makeup other than a slight blush and a soft plum-colored lip gloss, she was beautiful. She looked liked an African queen.

Oh, Mom, I don’t know what to say. Cheyenne choked slightly, trying to keep back the tears that were threatening. She went over and hugged her mother tightly, suddenly wanting to hold on to her forever.

I take it your answer is that I look okay.

Okay? Mom, are you kidding? You look like royalty. Cheyenne couldn’t stop staring at her mother. With blinding speed, the past years suddenly flashed before her. Cheyenne remembered scenes from their years of growing up and scenes after they became adults. Her mother was in most of them.

How was she going to live without her mother in her life? How were any of them going to be able to make it without their mother? To pray for them, to hold them, to comfort and console them, to laugh and cry with them? She couldn’t let it happen. They couldn’t lose their mother!

Cheyenne sweetheart, are you all right? her mother asked, her voice suddenly tinged with concern. She knew, instinctively as only a mother could, that her oldest was troubled.

Suddenly, Cheyenne was panicked. What if Roxanne was right? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea that their mother leave them and go thousands of miles away. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted her mother to be happy. Of course, she did. They all did. But what would they do once she was gone?

Of course, Mom, I’m fine. Her voice was subdued. She continued, It’s just that I can’t get over you getting married and leaving. Are you sure this is what you want to do? I mean, is this the right thing to do after all these years?

Vivienne chuckled. My babies are all grown up, yet they don’t want me to leave them. Is that it? Should I tell my husband-to-be that I can’t marry him?

Cheyenne didn’t trust herself to speak. She just shook her head.

Well, I think that everything is ready then.

She made one last look in the mirror. Turning around, she looked at her oldest daughter carefully. A small frown crossed her face. Are you sure that all of you are okay with this?

Cheyenne sighed. Mom, you’ve been there through all the angst that we’ve all gone through all our lives. It’s your turn for some happiness now. If we weren’t okay with it, we would be the ones that are selfish.

Even though she didn’t totally feel what she was saying, she hoped that her mother believed her. She nodded to her aunt Sabra and then looked over at Vivienne. She picked up the tasteful bouquet of cream and red roses mixed with baby’s breath. Handing it to he mother, she nodded.

Taking her mother’s arm and crossing it over her own, they walked slowly toward the closed door.

Now, Mother dear. Let’s get this show on the road.

Two

Darius Lawrence sauntered into the prison’s library, whistling tonelessly as he casually glanced around the small cramped room, looking for an available computer. He rarely came to the room because, to him, it was an insult to call it a library. It was little more than a large room with several tall shelves filled with books donated by organizations and individuals who tended to want to do good by helping out those who were imprisoned. There was maybe ten tables total in the room; one had four computers chained to it.

He noticed Vincent Blaine, one of the prison’s guards, leaning against the back wall near the courtyard window. Cupping and fondling himself, Darius laughed out loud as Blaine reddened furiously and scowled back at him, his hand hovering, ready to grab his Taser.

Darius and Blaine hated each other. When Darius had first arrived at Joliet State Prison, Blaine tripped him as he exited the prison bus. Blaine, the other guards, and the prisoners who were scattered around, curious to see the newbies, laughed and made lewd comments as Darius lay face down, shaking his head and spitting out dirt and small rocks.

Before anyone could blink, Darius was upright and, with lightning speed, delivered a swift kick to Blaine’s crotch. Blaine doubled over, howling, tears creasing his cheeks while he grabbed himself in an effort to try to stop the excruciating pain.

Blaine ended up out of service and limping for two days, while Darius ended up in solitary confinement for two weeks. But to Darius, it had been worth it. His actions had delivered a strong message to prisoners and guards alike: Don’t start none, won’t be none. This, of course, referred to problems with him.

From that day on, he was constantly watched by prison personnel and cautiously avoided by the other prisoners.

Darius had been a resident of the state for the past six years now, with four more years on his term. He was a blackmailer and extortionist who had started out conning people. With his high IQ, exceptional good looks, cunning, and charm, it had almost been too easy. He had started out with small cons in and around Las Vegas, Arizona, and New Mexico, and his confidence had grown every time he walked away with the money and without being arrested.

He graduated into the lifestyle of the European jet set thanks to an older lover who moved him to Paris for almost a year. She had more money than she could ever spend, and she shared it with him, buying him lavish gifts and giving him a very generous allowance.

She also introduced him to the more decadent lifestyle of the Euro riche. Filled with drugs, parties, wild sex, and money, life for him had been a heady experience at first. He didn’t have to worry about anything. She paid him handsomely for his sexual services, with which she was very satisfied.

But after a few short months, he had grown bored of the lifestyle and of her. He felt imprisoned and wanted out. When she started dropping hints of settling down and getting married, he knew it was time to move on.

He had already made several key contacts, who could introduce him to even more decadent and richer marks. He didn’t need her anymore for that. He had acquired enough of what he would need to continue living in a very comfortable lifestyle for quite a while as he figured out what he would do next.

It was time to be on his own and share his skills and talents with someone else.

One night, after a more rigorous-than-usual bout of lovemaking, she had immediately fallen asleep. Taking this as his only opportunity, he took his Louis Vuitton luggage, a gift from her and already packed, and her jewels, and came back to the States.

But he knew that small cons could no longer give him what he had become accustomed to, and he decided it was time to expand his operation and territory.

He met LaQuisha Johnson and was taken in by her erotic beauty and uncanny potential. Though it had taken two years to groom her, the result was well-worth it. He turned a cow’s ear into a silk purse, and Kenya was born. Her ability to speak French, German, Spanish, and Italian—along with her breathtaking beauty, sexuality, charm, and grace—provided the perfect partner for him.

They moved back to the South of France, where he had immediately reconnected with several names on his well-guarded list. From there, he and Kenya sailed into the member’s-only high society of Europe.

The ten years that they spent abroad, mingling with the uber rich, were indeed very profitable. Kenya’s sexuality and his ability to find the easy marks and set up the schemes that separated the marks from their millions had led to a very profitable partnership.

Thanks to his uncanny ability to anticipate and prepare for trouble and his sense of getting out before getting caught, they were able to get back to the States just as Interpol was ready to bring them in for questioning.

Because of their perfect false identities and an extra half million dollars to the right people, they had lived under assumed identities in Europe. When they reentered the United States, it was under their own names, and they were able to live out in the open.

They lived well, enjoying their lives and considerable wealth.

Ironically, the reason he was at Joliet wasn’t blackmail or extortion. It happened when he met Roxanne Nolan Winton. He had lost his heads—both the cerebral and the sexual one. That had cost him his freedom.

Roxanne was a beautiful woman, and at one time, he would have done almost anything to have her. He remembered seeing her at a realtor’s office. From then on, Kenya was forgotten about, and Roxanne had become his quest.

He had been delighted at first when she didn’t appear to be interested in him. That had never happened to him before. It was usually the other way around. The women fell all over themselves to get him to notice them. But Roxanne was a challenge, and he loved challenges.

He had finally convinced her to go out with him. On their second date, it had taken all his patience to pretend to honor her good girl actions—the chaste kiss on the cheek at the end of their evening together, not letting him touch her other than taking her arm as they walked, her reticence in talking about herself and her life. His lust for her had nearly driven him out of his mind. She had done nothing more than tease and entice him and then withhold that coveted prize.

But when he wanted something, he took it.

He had been convicted of rape and aggravated sexual assault against her. Although he would go to his grave never admitting that he had raped her, a jury of his supposed peers had found him guilty.

He still remembered what he felt had been a trumped-up trial. The district attorney had been cunning, and as a result, most of the jurors had been women. Even before the trial was halfway through, they had been convinced of his guilt. Roxanne’s sometimes-tearful testimony certainly hadn’t helped.

During the five days that it had taken to convict him, it had been the first time that he had not been able to use his looks and charm to his advantage. He would often look up to find several of the women jurors glaring at him, pure outright disgust and hatred emanating from their faces.

His lawyer had kept him off the stand to keep the DA from asking questions about his previous life and criminal activities. Although nothing could be proven, it would have been very damaging.

So all he could do was sit and watch helplessly as he was being found guilty long before the jurors even got together to deliberate.

So for the last six years, he had been sitting back and biding his time until he could get out of there. Kenya getting arrested couldn’t have come at a better time, because he could now execute it. He thought briefly about her.

Kenya was beautiful, sexy, cunning, and vengeful. When he had been found guilty of raping Roxanne, she had gone crazy in the courtroom. She promised that she would pay Roxanne back. He had to give her credit. She had almost pulled it off.

He had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that using Deshon to help her with her revenge was a masterful move. What better way to make Roxanne remember for the rest of her days that her life had been destroyed, in part, by the identical twin of the man who had taken her most precious possession?

But being vengeful was also very stupid. Now she was on trial for second-degree murder and assault of an officer of the court. Bad for her and better for him.

However, for the moment, Kenya wasn’t his concern. Although they were good partners in crime and she was everything that a man could want, she didn’t have what it would take to keep a man like himself interested in her for the rest of his life. After he tired of her, and he knew that in time he would have killed her.

It had been two days since the start of her trial, and he wanted to find out what was happening. Joliet didn’t allow newspapers to be brought in, and he was curious. All four computers were occupied, so he bullied his way onto the one with internet access. The occupant that he unceremoniously pulled from the chair threw his hands in the air, angry with but not stupid enough to go up against Darius. He sulked as he slouched away, glaring at Darius, mumbling something incoherent but not loud enough for Darius to hear.

Internet access at the prison was very limited. All the interesting website accesses were blocked. If you were lucky enough to get any time on the computer—and it was only fifteen minutes at a time—you generally had a guard hovering nearby. You could only surf for information. You couldn’t contact or get information from any person on the outside. But they didn’t know him and his capabilities. His last sent message had been to one of his crew six months ago without using any technology, and they were none the wiser.

He knew that the grunts who worked at the prison were hired for their brawn, certainly not their brains.

Yo, Darius…or should I call ya Samson? What’s up with the new look?

Darius glanced over at Vincent, who had sauntered over to stand next to him. Unconsciously, he rubbed his newly shaved head, momentarily regretting the loss of his thick wheat-colored dreadlocks. But it was very necessary in the grand scheme of things.

Ignoring Blaine and his reference, he continued his searching the internet. He had some information to get that was important to him. He didn’t intend to leave until he got it. Ever since he had seen the news on TV about his brother’s early release and saw his son for the first time, he had been finalizing his plan.

He googled any articles attached to the attempted murder of that attorney, Roxanne’s husband, Charles Winton, Mrs. Endright, and Kenya. The list included more than two hundred stories about the three of them.

Somewhat curious about old Endright, he quickly skimmed through several references to the gruesome murder, her pampered lifestyle with her husband, their generosity to charities, and her life as executive assistant to Aaron Walker. He didn’t miss one writer’s reference to her motherly love for both Aaron Walker and his brother-in-law, Charles Winton. Unfortunate for her, it had put her in the wrong place at the wrong time and had cost her her life.

There was not nearly as much about Charles Winton. Aside from his brilliant record and some of the more famous court cases that he had won, there was next to nothing about the private life of Charles Winton and family. All Darius knew was the fact that Charles was now head of the Endright Foundation.

The rest of the articles were about Kenya, but she didn’t interest him at all. At least not for the moment.

Blaine grunted. Darius knew that he was way past his time on the computer, but he didn’t care. Purposely ignoring the nonverbal signals being thrown his way and feeling the growing anger from Blaine, he opened up one of three remaining articles.

These were devoted to Kenya’s accomplice—DeShon Lawrence, his twin.

They hadn’t talked to each other in more than twenty years. From what he read, his twin’s life had been going fairly well until he hooked up with Kenya and was arrested for it. But he had served only six months of his one-year term in jail—a local jail at that. Darius fumed. His twin always seemed to land on his feet, no matter what the situation.

But his twin was a vital part of the plan, and like it or not, he needed him.

But he did wonder. What had Kenya put on DeShon to get him to obtain an illegal drug for her and take damning pictures in an attempt to disbar and murder an attorney? The answer was obvious. He hardened just remembering.

Get up. Your time’s up.

The guard Vincent Blaine was a big man, standing at least