Blood Claim

Chapter One

Mike.

"This is the land where all of our dreams will be made, boys." I felt the smile gather on my lips as I stepped out of the beat-up Land Cruiser and stretched my arms above my head, listening to the series of pops coming from my back.

The Ghana heat had been soaking into my weary bones for the past hour and making me feel sweaty, and I was looking forward to a cool shower in the hotel after our meeting with the claim owner. I grabbed my bag from the back of the truck and squinted up against the bright West African sunshine.

I wiped at the sweat on my top lip and watched as my crew climbed out of the Land Cruiser, letting out weary sighs with each step, each warily looking to each other. I couldn't blame them, despite my sunny attitude.

"It's too hot. I'm sweating like a P-I-G," Stanley said. He was my stepfather, and the last of my crew, to stomp out of the vehicle and come to stand next to Philip, my foreman and best friend. Stanley pulled off his filthy Yankees cap and swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. "Look at this shit, Mike. I already hate this filthy country."

I laughed and stepped back as he held out his damp palm to me. Stanley was a mean old bastard but he was the closest thing I had to a dad since my own piece-of-shit father had left me and my mother high and dry when I was barely out of diapers. He was also the best damned excavator that America had to offer—barring myself, of course. I trusted him with my life. And I needed someone I trusted out there with me. I'd staked my house, my savings, and my marriage on this venture. Not to mention my reputation.

"It's not so bad, old man," I scoffed and picked up my bag.

"I'm sure the women are going to be top notch." Philip winked and grabbed his crotch as a woman walked past us. His gaze followed the soft swish of her wide hips as she continued down the road.

Philip was my friend—my best friend, I guess you could say. Though we had nothing in common. Where I was happily married with kids, he was still carefree and easy.

I grinned and shook my head before looking up at the hotel. We were only staying in it for one night. And damn, I was glad.

The Okhuma Hotel was an ominous-looking building, with small, square windows, grey walls, and a sense of oppressiveness about it that I couldn't explain. And despite the sun still burning high in the sky and the sweat snaking its way down my spine, the building left a heavy shadow across the sidewalk in front of it, making me feel chilled to the core.

The street itself, however, was bustling with both people and traffic. The hotel and the street seemed to be in mock violation of one another, each an almost direct conflict of the other's nature. Where Ghana was alive with heat and color, the hotel was not.

Baako, our guide, barely seemed to notice. Or if he did, he didn't let on. Instead he smiled and waved for us to follow him into the deeper shadows of the building.

"Come, Mr. Cooper. My employer, Mr. Okai, is waiting for you," Baako said as he pushed on the old front door.

"Please, it's just Mike." I forced a smile. "Me and my men work on a first-name basis."

"Very well, Mike it is," he replied, looking back over his shoulder, the whites of his eyes and his teeth stark in their contrast to his dark complexion. "Now come, come inside."

The main foyer of the hotel was quiet, with only the barest noises from the busy street outside making their way in. We all trailed after Baako, following the whites of his overly clean Nike Airs through the hotel and into a quiet, old-fashioned bar area, with Jake—the youngest of my crew—trailing behind us all. The kid was barely a man, scraping the good side of twenty-five, hence his nickname of "the Kid". He was quiet and liked to keep to himself, and I knew that he was hating the idea of being away from his girlfriend and little boy. This money, if things worked out okay, would be life-changing for all of us, but especially for him.