Trinity (5 page)

“You
both
work for
him?”
I’m disgusted.

Shane shakes his head at me incredulously. “Why were you meeting with Ty?”

“Like you don’t know.” The elevator doors ding open.
Thank god.

“I don’t.” He stands there gaping as I press the lobby button.

“Sure.” I cross my arms and glare as the doors slide closed.

What a fucking idiot I am. The term sleeping with the enemy could not be more appropriate.

The nausea rolls as I dart out of the building, into my car, and pull away.

I chew on my anger like tobacco until I pull up to Magnolia Nursing Home. Taking a few deep breaths, I squeeze the shit out of the steering wheel to help pull myself together. I can’t go in there a frazzled mess. The last thing Pops needs is to start sniffing out trouble. He has enough to worry about.

I sign in at the front desk and give Daisy a small smile.

“Morning, Jenn. You look nice today.”

“Thanks. I just came from a meeting.” I inwardly scowl. “I hate business attire.”

She laughs lightly. “Don’t we all. That’s why I became a nurse.” She tugs on her floral scrubs. “Casual Friday every day.”

“That’s one way to choose a career. How’s our patient today?”

“I’ve heard cranky.” She purses her lips.

“So, normal?”

“Pretty much.”

“Good to hear.” I tap on the desk before I head to room 404. My heels click on the tile floor the whole way, agitating the quiet hall. Agitating me. I try to forget all about Shane and Chase and who they work for as I enter the room. Pops, aka Nathanial Jackson, is resting peacefully, propped up in his bed. The television blaring Sports Center, as usual. After turning the volume down, I sit on the edge of his mattress and watch him sleep. His breaths are heavy and his mouth is slack. His dark skin is ashy, and the hair on his chin and head has turned almost completely white. He looks so different now compared to the first time I met him, nearly twelve years ago. A neglected teenager who was looking for attention and something to eat. My parents couldn’t be bothered with me, so I was a victim of circumstance and indifference. My father cared more about drinking on a fishing boat than anything else, while my mother worried who her next boyfriend was going to be. I have an older half-brother, Tommy, but I haven’t seen or heard from him in years. Once he turned eighteen, he joined the Marines and never looked back. Who could blame him? When my father did decide to make an appearance, Tommy was his personal punching bag.

My brother did do one notable thing before he left. He protected me. Our father went after me one night, and Tommy made sure he never did it again. That was three weeks before his eighteenth birthday. I was eleven. He repaid my father tenfold for the years of abuse. I still remember the vicious beating and the bloody aftermath. Our father’s face was so swollen he couldn’t open either eye for days. I’ll always be grateful to Tommy for standing up for me. For protecting me. I wish he hadn’t left, but I understand. I just hope wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he’s happy.

Pop whimpers in his sleep but doesn’t wake. The tube in his nose provides the oxygen his lungs desperately depend on. I want to hold his hand, but I don’t want to disturb him. He hasn’t been sleeping well from the violent coughing and pneumonia. Just as the thought crosses my mind, he breaks into a coughing fit, which startles him awake. I grab some water, but he puts his hand up in protest as his frail body jerks from the vicious hacks.

My heart breaks as I watch helplessly. There’s nothing I can do. There isn’t anything anyone can do.

“Water, water,” he finally croaks, motioning for the small pink cup in my hand. I hand it over readily. I recall the first time I met Pops. I’d been stealing food from the Corkscrew’s pantry for weeks, sneaking in while the servers were setting up and swiping whatever morsels I could. One day, he caught me. This big, intimidating black man with a fedora and a cigar. I was thirteen and terrified out of my mind. I thought for sure the back of a cop car was where I was headed. But instead of calling the police, he handed me an apron and told me if I wanted to eat, I’d have to work for my dinner. So I washed dishes that night and every night after that for weeks upon weeks. I was Pop’s stray cat. Feed me once and I just kept coming back. After a while, he started to take an interest in me. In my schoolwork, my future, my happiness. He encouraged me, made sure I was on the right track, and kept me there. He was the only adult in my life who truly cared, and I grew to love him. Respect him. He was an incredible role model. Everyone adored him. Especially me.

Throughout high school, he taught me the restaurant business, and as I got older, he let me branch out. Work on the line, wait tables, and serve cocktails. When I was sixteen and had enough of my turbulent household, he took me in. Gave me the spare room on the second floor of the restaurant. It wasn’t much. It was dusty, drafty, and desolate, but together, we fixed it up and made it livable. My own little safe haven. That solidified my loyalty to Pops. This man gave me everything and only asked that I grow up strong and stable in return. Which I have. Because of him.

“You okay now?” I take the cup as his shaking subsides.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, opens his eyes, and takes a good look at me.

“What the hell did you do, girl?” He grimaces.

I sit back down on the edge of the bed and twirl a short blond lock around my finger.

“I cut my hair.”

He curls his lip. “Did anyone tell you a unicorn shit on your head?”

“Pops!” I burst out laughing. “You don’t like it?”

“Is that Janine’s doing?”

“She was there, yes.” I giggle, accountable.

“I don’t understand. What’s with you girls and your ever-changing hair colors?”

I shrug. “Personal expression.”

“You want to express yourself, write a book. Cook a meal, play a song.” He lectures me. Yup, that’s Pops.

“I have been cooking,” I inform him. “A lot.”

“Good.” He settles on the mattress. “Keep at it. You love it. You’re talented. You’ll go far.” He closes his eyes.

“I’m only any of those things because of you.”

He grins. “I’ll take the credit.” The man isn’t modest by any means.

“I’ll gladly give it.” I take his hand.

“How did the meeting with Winters go?” He pops open one eye and reads my facial expression like a book. “That good, huh?”

“I told him we weren’t selling. He didn’t like it.”

Pops sighs heavily, gripping my hand. “Jennifer, take the money. Sell the place. Start brand new.”

“No. The Corkscrew is my home. It’s all I have left. I’ll never sell it to some sleazy developer who’s just going to tear it down and build a condo in its place. This state has enough of those,” I fume. “I’m going to pay off the liens and remodel. You’ll see. I have plans. I can do this.”

Pops shakes his head at me, his lip curled on one side. “Stubborn girl.”

“An attribute I can also claim from you.”

“Do what you think is right, but don’t let pride blind you.” He starts coughing again. Hard, body shaking hacks. I hold him down until the fit subsides. “Everything has its time.” He looks up into my eyes, and I nearly burst into tears. I know he’s alluding to more than just the restaurant. He doesn’t have much time left, and it’s destroying me.

“I need to try.”

His face softens. “I was mad at God for so long for not blessing me with children. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. He was saving me for you. You may not be my flesh and blood, but you are mine. Hard head and all.”

I stare down into his cloudy brown eyes. His health deteriorated so fast, I almost still can’t believe we’re in this place.

I will not cry. I will not cry. At least, not in front of him.

“Fight, old man.” I kiss his forehead.

“I know no other way.” He coughs some more.

“Good,” I tease as I stand up. “I have to get over to the Corkscrew. Straighten up after the party.”

“How was Janine and Jack’s last hurrah?”

I pause, awkwardly. Fighting off illicit images of me, Shane and Chase in the stairwell. “Eventful.”

Pops lifts his white eyebrows. “Eventful? Is my restaurant still standing?”

“It is,” I confirm. “If there’s any alcohol left? That’s a different story.”

He groans.

I laugh, blow him a kiss good-bye, then leave the pale yellow room.

Even in his present state, a short visit with Pops always makes me feel better. Too bad the feeling is short lived because when I walk outside, two men are guarding my car.

Fuck. How the hell did they find me?

I march straight for the driver’s side, hoping to avoid any and all confrontation. I don’t want anything to do with either of them.

Not after I found out who they work for and can guess why they’re in Newhaven Beach.

I hit the unlock button and look straight down, reaching for the door handle.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Chase demands with his hip securely fastened to my driver’s side door.

“Please get off.” I jerk at the handle, but the door remains closed.

“Not until you talk to us,” he objects sternly. Obstante man.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“There’s a shitload to say, Jenn.”

“Look,” I put him in his place. “Last night was fun. Amazing even. But it’s over. You go your way, I’ll go mine.”

“Nope. Not gonna happen,” Shane contests, creeping closer behind me.

“Why?”

“Because last night
was
amazing. And we want it to happen again. With you. Over and over.”

“You’re out of your minds. It was a one-time deal.”

“Why?”

“Conflict of interest,” I seethe.

“Because Ty wants to buy you out?” Shane questions.

“Yes. And I’m not selling. Ever. I don’t need the two of you trying to weasel your way in so you can coax me, either.”

“We couldn’t care less if you sell to Ty or not. If you don’t want to, don’t. All we care about is being with you.”

“Why?” I blink rapidly, taken back.

“Because last night was something special. We had a connection. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it.”

I clench my jaw, trying to deny it. But Shane’s right; we did have a connection. All three of us. But exploring anything with them is a terrible fucking idea.

“Why do you want to pursue this?” I pose the question to both of them. “You have each other. What do you need me for?”

They each inch closer. "We need you because Chase doesn’t have these." Shane reaches around and cups my breast assertively.

“And Shane doesn’t have this.” I inhale sharply as Chase palms the apex of my thighs. “We like the feel of a woman between us. We like her sweet lips and her seductive curves, and her tight, wet pussy.” Chase applies more pressure with the heel of his hand, grinding against my clit. My very tingly, ticklish, traitorous clit.

I pant lightly as they grope me in broad daylight.

“Tell us no. Tell us no right here, right now, and we’ll leave you alone.” I grab each of their wrists to halt their ministrations. Just their brief touch has me wanting to scream “Yes!” despite what I learned about them this morning. As much as I hate the man they work for and the company they represent, they, as individuals, reach a depraved part of me. A part I bury deep inside. For fear? For shame? I’m not quite sure. Maybe to avoid being seen as a disappointment. As a woman who makes reckless decisions, like last night. But the experience has been calling to me since I woke up this morning. Their hands, their lips, the desirous look in their eyes at this very moment. I fucking want them. I’ve always had trouble keeping interest in one man, but maybe being with two?

“What’s it going to be, pixie?” Chase presses.

“No pressure from either of you to sell?” I stipulate.

“No. We won’t even bring up the topic unless you want to talk about it.”

I chew on my lip in deep deliberation.

“C’mon, Jenn. Give us a chance. One. Chance,” Shane hisses seductively in my ear.

“Fine,” I cave. “One. Chance.”

They both smile victoriously from ear to ear.

I sigh, knowing this path I’m about to drift down is dicey and dangerous.

“Give me your phone,” Chase sternly requests. I pull it out of my bag and hand it over reluctantly. “I’ll text you our address. Do you have to work tonight?”

“No. The restaurant is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays during the low season.”

Chase curves the corner of his mouth up in a wicked grin. “Good. That means we get you all to ourselves for a whole forty-eight hours.”

“No—” Before I even have a chance to argue, he silences me with an emotive kiss while Shane grips my hips tightly. We’re out in the open, so I don’t know how far their public display of affection will go. At the moment, I hope not much further. I need to wrap my head around all this. I was certain after I stormed out of Winters Travers I would never see either of them again, yet here we are. The three of us together about to melt the pavement under our feet. They release me in unison, as if they can read each other’s mind.

“How did you find me?” I ask dizzily.

“Chase left something at home, when he was pulling into the parking lot he spotted you leaving. I ran outside a few seconds later and we followed you.” Shane explains.

“Crafty.” I muse.

“And lucky and cosmic.” Shane adds.

“I don’t believe in fate. Or faith.” I inform him impassively.

“Maybe you should.” Chase frivolously pokes me in the ribs and I jump. “Tonight. Six o’clock. Don’t be late,” Chase commands as I stand there woozy. These two men. Jesus Christ, these two men . . .

“Six. Got it,” I reiterate, lightheaded, as they meander all hot and sexy in expensive suits over to their car. Of course, it’s some overpriced black thing that looks like a jet.

I just watch as they pull away.

It’s official.

I just lost my fucking mind.