A Test of Love: Interracial Erotic Romance (Chasing Love) (11 page)

“Doesn’t matter. It counts as proof.” I leaned in as he got on my side and whispered, “Could you break into a locked room?”

He watched me for a minute as if unsure how to swallow that answer. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“If the rooms are connected to a rich white boy.”

“Come on, Troy.”

He rubbed his hands together and then wiped his face. “This has trouble written all over it.”

“Maybe, or it could be important to why we’re here.”

“What rooms you need broken into?” He lowered his voice.

“They’re at the end of the big hallway on the first floor. It’s easy to spot them. They’re the only two that are locked in probably the whole house.”

“That doesn’t mean anything is in there.”

“Chase refused to open them and got pretty hot when I mentioned seeing his baby pictures.”

“He probably had braces as a kid or something. That guy is real narcissistic.”

Troy and his dictionary. Oh, lord.

I rolled my eyes. “No he’s not. He’s just particular about how he looks.”

“He has clear polish on his nails.”

“He likes to keep them fresh and clean.” I waved him away. “Anyway, we’re off topic. If I got him out of the house, could you get into the rooms?”

“And do what, Jazz? What the hell should I be doing in there to begin with?”

“I just want to know what’s in there. What does he have to hide?”

“This guy’s dangerous.”

“Yet you helped him kidnap me.”

He moved his face a little to my right where he could see behind me, but it wasn’t too obvious. I didn’t have to be a genius to know he was watching Vivian. Only he thought he was getting one over on everybody. It was blatantly clear he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

“Are you still having a difficult time getting over Vivian?” I asked.

“I’m over her.” He moved his face away. “So back to this stupid plan of yours. You want me to somehow avoid pretty boy’s guards and house staff, to get inside of a locked room—”

“Two locked rooms.” I held up two fingers.

“I’m sorry. Two locked rooms and you don’t know what you want me to do when I get in there.”

“I don’t know. Take pictures and let me know what you see.”

“What if there’s a body in there?”

I raised my hands in the air. “Umm. . .I think you should call the cops or something, but I doubt there’s a body in there.”

“Why not?”

“Chase wouldn’t hide a body in his house.”

“No? Where would he hide it?”

I bit my lip. “On a beach, apparently.”

“Yeah. He has too many secrets.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Then drop him.”

I sighed. “I can’t, not until I know everything.”

“I don’t trust him, Jazz. He’s dangerous and he’s hiding something, not just in the rooms, but with the body and even these chicks.”

“What do you mean?”

“He told me he didn’t have the binders with their information and that they were already in Italy with his investigators. However, I go in this room on his plane and the files are right there. I went through all of them.”

“You read up on Dawn and the rest?”

“Yeah. They’re all hiding something. I don’t even know if it’s the same secrets or not.”

“Then I guess we’re about to find out.”

“I don’t know about that. These people spent a lot of money to hide things. You think they’re going to let two poor kids from our hood discover their dirty secrets?”

“No, but then poor kids like us don’t play by their rules. We have our own and they have no idea what they are.”

He frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Me neither, but I really felt like that sounded bad ass, so I went with it.”

Laughing, he walked off. “You’re still a geek, Jazz.”

“But are you going to do that for me?”

“Maybe.”

Chapter 11

Troy

From the kitchen window, I watched Viv and Jasmine lounge by the pool, chatting about whatever. They laughed a lot so it had to be something related to sex. I’d been around them enough to understand that sex served as their favorite topic and always kept them giggling like teenagers. It was good to see Viv laugh again.
Fuck.
It was good to see her period.

In the sunlight, her moist skin looked like gold. Strips of bright blue wrapped around her and formed a swim suit that made me want to rip away at the fabric. She’d pulled all that silky blond hair up into a pony tail. Over her eyes, she wore turquoise shades with glitter on the frame. She was so fine. I couldn’t take my behind outside, so I leaned against the counter by the sink and drooled in private.

“Don’t feel like a swim today?” Chase said from behind me. That was one of the things I was starting to hate about this motherfucker. He had the capability of sneaking up on me, when he didn’t want to be heard. People didn’t just silently walk around. The ones that could were sneaky.

“Naw. I don’t know how to swim. Jazz tried to teach me, but she could never keep me in the water long enough to learn.”

Chase got on my side and gazed out of the window. “You have two beautiful sisters.”

My fingers itched to punch him in the face. It wouldn’t have been right. What he said wasn’t wrong. Jazz and Viv were enchanting, but it was still too early for me to discuss Viv’s new family status with anybody. In that moment, Jazz rose from her chair. She had a thing for wooden beads. Anytime she spotted an outfit, accessory, or pocket book with any type of wooden beads, she went berserk and bought it. Today, she had on a bikini covered in earthy green and coffee-brown beads.

I didn’t even know she ever wore a bikini. Our brothers never allowed her to wear anything too revealing. Even as an adult, if she swung by to visit, the family would give her crap for any outfit that they thought showed too much. Being her twin and strongest supporter, I didn’t care and did my best to have her back. However, from the way Chase drooled over her, I decided that Jazz and I may need to discuss some better swimwear choices.

Chase continued to gaze at her as he gripped the countertop hard.

“Please, don’t eat my sister, man. I like having her around.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises.”

“She got you open?”

“If open means, strung on her every word, movement, decision, and pleas, then yes. I’m open with no possibility of closure in sight.”

“You may want to slow down.”

Chase turned to me. “Why’s that?”

“You haven’t caught Jazz yet.”

“No disrespect to you, Troy, but she was captured long ago. I’m just polishing the chains and making sure the bars are firm and tight.”

I cracked up with laughter. The poor guy had no idea what he was getting himself into. “Have you met any of our brothers yet?”

“No.”

“Then I would put the polish down for now. Sherman gets out in a few months. Mike a day later. You think Benny is possessive of Jazz. You’ve seen nothing. My brothers are the true definition of sociopaths.”

“I do business with sociopaths every day.”

“Yeah, but those guys have rules and suits. My brothers only think about four things—hustling, killing, fucking, and family. When it comes to family, Jazz is at the top of the list. She’s the only girl out of all of us. We’ve been protecting her all our lives. All the illegal things my brothers did in the past, they believe they did it for Jazz and their kids. According to Sherman, Jazz is supposed to be with a nerdy black guy and have children and a dog.”

“And you’re other brothers?”

“They just listen to Sherman.”

“So Sherman is the one I need to win over?”

I looked Chase up and down. “You can’t win him. You’re everything he hates.”

“We might have a problem then.” He returned to gawking at Jazz’s behind as she did some stupid dance that triggered Viv to get lost in hysterical fits. “This is the woman I should be with.”

Yeah. He’s open. Maybe Sherman will see it too and only stab him a few times.

Viv jumped up and rocked her hips from side to side. Those plump ass cheeks jiggled within her bikini bottoms.
Look away. She’s your sister.
I moved away from the window. “When will your men search for the gun?”

“Two in the morning,” Chase said. “Most lovers are long gone by then. This beach doesn’t get a bunch of party tourists. It’s mainly people that have a connection to the small town or couples hoping for a romantic getaway.”

“I want to be with them as they search.”

“Good. I was going to ask you to. Lucy hired all these guys. Who knows if she has any control over them or not? I’m still not set on Lucy being the shooter.”

“You mean killer?”

He swallowed. “That too.”

“Jazz will want to be on the beach.”

“No, I’ll keep her busy.”

I didn’t want to know how he would keep my sister busy, not with the way he kept gripping that counter.

The back door squeaked as it opened. A short man with dark skin and a dark blue suit spoke Italian to Chase. With ease, Chase responded in the same language and got ready to go before glancing back at me. “Jasmine has been begging me to take her to the beach. Are you and Vivian coming?”

“Not me. Hopefully Viv is going though.”

“Hopefully?” Chase looked at Viv as if he hadn’t truly seen her. After a few seconds, he nodded. “This must be hard for you.”

“I’m fine.”

Chase frowned. “If I discovered Jasmine was my sister, it would rock my world.”

“Yeah, but you would just have to deal with it and move on.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Move on from what?”

“You’d have to move on from Jasmine, if she was your sister.”

He shook his head. “No. Not with Jasmine. I wouldn’t move on. She’d still be mine, regardless.” And with that he left the kitchen.

He’s crazier than I thought. Maybe he’ll get along with Sherman with no problem.

In no time, Chase met the girls outside, whispered something to Jazz to make her swoon, and guided her away. Viv sat there for a minute looking at the sunny blue sky that carried a scatter of clouds above her head.

You could paint this sky with no problem.

I would’ve loved to see Viv grab one of her emergency paint brushes that she always carried along in her pocket book. When the urge to paint rushed over her, she went with it, slapping art on any surface—sidewalks, the back of post office boxes, old shoe boxes, planks of wood, anywhere. Yet, Viv hadn’t painted one thing since we broke up.

You’ll paint again, baby girl.

I pulled Jazz’s hair pin out of my pocket and rushed off to those two locked rooms that I’d expected minutes earlier.

My sister never asked me to do illegal shit unless it meant keeping her or someone safe. Picking locks was my thing. I’d broken in enough houses when I was a kid, taking what I thought should’ve been mine in the first place. Dumb. In those days, envy swam in my eyes. People who had lots of stuff, I hated. I targeted them because I figured if they fell, they’d crash into cushions, instead of slamming to their behinds like a poor person would if he lost all his possessions.

As a kid, I didn’t understand that rich people worked hard for what they got and that even though they had a lot, losing the stuff would be just as devastating. By the time I realized that, the desire to steal had seeped too deep into my bones. It became an addiction, a high, and just like that moment when heroin hit the bloodstream, I sank into myself and went numb. Being in jail at least helped me get over my addiction, but that was the only good thing about those bars. That being said, Jazz hated when I got in trouble and spent a large part of our lives trying to keep me out of it as much as possible. For her to ask me to break into her man’s rooms was huge. It meant that her gut was yanking at her brain and trying to tell her something.

Jazz, I hope you know what you’re doing.

My heart beats increased to that rhythmic boom that always came right before my fingers touched a lock. It was tribal and filled my ears. Adrenaline surged through my body. I could taste the anticipation on my tongue, so sweet I would never turn around and give up on doing this. In my head, I said this was for Jazz. In my heart, I yearned for it, craved the ability to go numb again. Escape. Rise away from this world where a man could open his heart to a woman and be shattered due to extenuating circumstances outside of the both of us. It must’ve been how people felt when their spouse died or left them. Life was one thing on that day and then the next day, it all fled into the unknown.

I need this.

I inhaled and pushed on, sliding my finger up and down that small hair pin, so hard a little line grooved into my skin. Before breaking in, I always approached the house and lock and then decided whatever tools I needed. I was never a pro. Some locks I just didn’t fuck with. Padlocks and deadbolts kept an amateur like me away. Their sole purpose was to keep the door closed and inaccessible. The ones I loved were turn or doorknob-style locks. They were the ones built into the door. They were easy to pick.

When I’d asked Jazz later about the rooms, she’d made it sound like Fort Knox. I checked the knobs out, nothing major at all. Chase’s door had a simple turn-style lock. It made sense. Even if he did have secrets in the rooms, he’d been too much in charge to worry about someone trying to break in. Why would he suspect us or his staff?

I got to the doors. Beads of sweat formed around my forehead. My body heated up as my breathing increased. In. Out. In. Out. An onlooker would think I was hyperventilating. They couldn’t experience the tremors of anticipation waving through my flesh. They couldn’t understand the way my free hand shook while the other remained steady and hungry for wickedness.

Remember. This is just for Jazz, nothing else.

I kind of hated that the lock was so simple, that it didn’t require time or maybe a few days of watching the area to make sure no one would witness it. I slipped in the hair pin. The lock clicked just like that, like I knew I would. No problem. Nothing difficult. I doubted anything major sat in either of the rooms, but if Jazz had a feeling, then why not check?