It was early afternoon before Trey found himself sitting in the bank with Brittany, waiting for Elsie to call them into her office. After waking up and making love again, he and Brittany had breakfast then Trey had taken her back to the house he’d been so determined to purchase.
He wanted to see it in the light of day and without all the high tensions that had flowed between them last night. But in the bright light of day, the house was the same as it had been last night. Well-built and small with a cabinet door now in need of replacement. In the bright light of day, her reaction was the same as it had been last night too. She forced herself to be happy for him but Trey saw her sadness and resignation, believing what she wanted from Trey and what he was willing to give were two different things.
Entire families lived in one-room houses but Trey could afford a much bigger house than what he was buying. He’d saved money for years, having no other responsibilities but his share of the rent, utilities and food. His truck note was paid off and he had no credit card debt. The only reason he’d chosen the small house was because he’d been determined to be as physically inaccessible to a woman as he was emotionally.
“Trey…” Elsie’s voice trailed off when her gaze landed on Brittany. Coolly unbuttoning her suit jacket, she fanned herself then turned to the receptionist. “Please get Miss Donovan something to drink while Mr. Wilson is in my office signing his documents.”
Brittany’s virulent jealousy had been muted by what had transpired between them. Instead of protesting Elsie’s directive, she merely turned her head.
Satisfaction bloomed in Elsie’s angular face and Trey glared at her, causing her smile to falter.
“We will do this some other time,” Trey began.
“You’re here now,” Elsie said briskly. “And you’re just a few signatures away from being a homeowner. I’m sure Brittany understands.”
“I do,” she reassured him. “Elsie’s right. Sign your papers.”
“What do you think of the house now that you’ve seen it in the light of day?”
Brittany shrugged. “The same as I did last night. But what does it matter? It’s your house,” she said in subdued tones. “It doesn’t matter what I think about it.”
Rubbing his jaw, he considered Brittany, aware of Elsie’s growing impatience and burgeoning resentment.
“It shouldn’t matter,” he agreed. “But it does.”
“It’s small,” Brittany said with irritation and she huffed. “With just enough space for you. Unless you intend to have that as a rental property to pay off the mortgage, you’ll be in it for at least several years. You can’t possibly be any clearer in your intentions to live alone.”
“You know me too damn well,” he grumbled.
“You asked,” she hissed.
He smiled at her glower. “Indeed I did, baby girl.”
“I have another appointment,” Elsie said. “If we can get this over with, you and Brittany can continue this conversation on your own time.”
Trey stared at Brittany. She must have read his indecision and uncertainty. She wet her lips. “Follow your heart. If you feel that’s the house for you, then sign the documents.”
Unable to stop his laughter, Trey shook his head. “You’re formidable, you know that, Brit?” Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. “Come. We have a beauty salon to find for you.”
The women’s eyes widened. “Trey,” they said in unison.
While Elsie’s lips tightened at the sound of Brittany’s voice, Brittany’s gaze never wavered from his face.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because the house isn’t for me, sweetheart.”
“Are you kidding me?” Elsie snapped. “In this market, you’re lucky to have gotten financed. If I were you, I’d not let this”—she indicated Brittany with a jerky wave of her hand—“I wouldn’t let your cock make a decision you should be making with your brain.”
Any goodwill he had left for Elsie died. She was creating a scene with her unprofessional outburst. More importantly she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong—in his business.
“Whether I make the decision with the head of my dick or the one on my shoulders is not your goddamn business, lady.” Ignoring Elsie’s gasp, he took Brittany’s hand. “Good day.”
✽ ✽ ✽
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Jen,” Trey responded on a strangled breath.
The tall, slender beauty named Jennifer gazed from Trey to Brittany. “I own this salon.”
Trey’s eyes widened in genuine shock, his alarm tantamount to the peals of a fire station bell. The woman was dark, like Trey, but exquisite, with a smooth complexion, well-defined features and hair carelessly upswept. Big earrings flopped against each side of her long, slender neck. She wore a cream-colored pantsuit and a cool expression.
Trey started to say something but Jennifer looked at Brittany, an eyebrow raised.
“And you are?”
“Brittany,” she responded, putting her arm through Trey’s. “Trey’s girlfriend.”
That neatly shaped brow rose again, this time in surprise, and Brittany got the impression she’d managed a near-impossible feat as shock touched Jennifer’s face and the receptionist’s mouth dropped open.
“Er, I see.”
Jennifer looked uncomfortable and Brittany suspected the problem. “I’m Bryson’s sister,” she explained since everyone seemed to know her brother. “I’ve known Trey my entire life and the status of our relationship just changed when I arrived several days ago.”
Jennifer met Brittany’s gaze and nodded, relief and respect on her face. “You’re perceptive. I was concerned that perhaps, um, when Trey and I… I’ve known Trey several months and I admittedly didn’t know much about him.”
Brittany swept Trey a look through the fringes of her lashes and blushed at the tender gleam in his eyes as he gazed at her. “He’s a little irresistible, isn’t he?”
Jennifer laughed. “Yes.” She looked at Brittany’s hair. “Do you have an appointment?”
“That bad, huh?” Brittany winced. “No I don’t have an appointment, but obviously I need one. This salon is right down the block from Trey’s bank. I need someone to shape the damage I did to my hair.”
Jennifer narrowed her eyes at Brittany’s hair and began clucking around it, her fingers measuring the length. While the woman went about her task, Brittany admitted to curiosity about Jennifer and Trey’s relationship but she wouldn’t pry. If Trey wanted her to know, he’d tell her, although she didn’t think there was much to tell since Trey hadn’t even known the woman owned a salon.
“Can you fit her into the schedule, Jen?” Trey asked, his drawl seductive. “For me?”
Jennifer sniffed but threw him an amused smile and turned to the receptionist. “When is my next scheduled client due to come in? I know everyone else’s schedule is full.”
“Forty-five minutes, ma’am.”
“You’re in luck I guess. I can squeeze her in.” Jennifer smiled and rolled her eyes. “For you, of course, Trey.”
The three of them laughed, then Jennifer led the way to her station where Brittany set her purse down before following Jennifer to the shampoo station. It didn’t take Jennifer long to wash Brittany’s hair and then give her a semblance of a style, but since her hair was so short it just looked like spikes. No…splinters.
Brittany stared at herself in the huge mirror. Her hair was gone.
“All done,” Jennifer announced.
Brittany continued to gawk at her hair. Her face crumpled.
“It’s okay,” Trey crooned. He’d been hovering nearby the entire time. “Your hair is going to grow back, baby girl.”
Jennifer shook out the apron she’d put around Brittany. “Was there a reason you cut it?”
“She wanted to try something new.”
“Okay,” Jennifer responded.
Brittany wasn’t sure if Jennifer believed Trey or not.
“If you’re interested in any products to take home, let me show you my recommendations.”
Jennifer took Brittany to the display cases and pointed out a daily shampoo and conditioner, a deep conditioner to use weekly, and Moroccan hair oil for shine. The salon offered full services and her cases reflected that, having merchandise for hair and skin along with make-up and bath products. While Brittany wished for the jar of bath salts and a tube of red lipstick, she had only a small bit of cash. She hadn’t earned the money Trey and Bryson agreed to pay her. Not only hadn’t she worked a full week yet, she’d burned the food the one time she had cooked.
“I’ll take the daily shampoo and the conditioner,” Brittany said with a last, wistful glance at the bath salts and the lipstick. She still needed to pay for her haircut, after all.
Reaching around her, Trey took her hand and pressed something into her palm. He then smiled at Jennifer. “She’ll take what you’ve recommended for her and whatever it was she was just staring at.”
Brittany gazed at the four bills. “I can’t take this. I haven’t done a full week’s work yet,” she protested, shoving the money back toward him. “So I know Bryson didn’t give you his half to give to me.”
“No he hasn’t, but I’ll get my money back from him. If you don’t do the work, I know where to find you, don’t I? Besides, I’m taking you to Victoria’s Secret, baby girl. Use your money there. Let me use mine here.”
Her mouth fell open but any further protests died in her throat. She’d never had anyone buy her gifts before—not unless it was her birthday—and she never splurged on herself. She’d learned frugality growing up. Many weeks her mother barely left enough money to buy everything she’d listed on the grocery list.
Once Trey had paid for Brittany’s haircut, using his debit card, Jennifer hugged Trey and then Brittany.
“Be happy, Trey,” Jennifer said with reverence.
Brittany realized, although Jennifer had been nothing but professional, it saddened her Trey was no longer available.
Trey kissed Jennifer’s hand. “You’re a class act.”
“I haven’t talked to you in a month. The last time I saw you, you were with Sylvia. Before then, I saw you for—” Her brow creased and she looked at Brittany.
“I understand. I’ve met Sylvia too. I also had the misfortune to meet Elsie,” Brittany said with a small huff, sliding a glance at Trey. Just thinking about the other woman made Brittany’s blood boil. “I know why Trey called all of you.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
“That was between you, him and the rest of his lovers.”
“Uh, ladies, you do realize I’m standing amongst you?”
“Sorry, Trey,” Brittany murmured, glancing in the mirror at her hair again before turning to Jennifer. “Would you agree to be my stylist?”
Jennifer looked startled. “You have quite a sense of yourself, so secure with who you are you see no problem asking one of Trey’s ex-lovers to be your stylist.” She didn’t say the words harshly. She simply sounded amazed.
“I just know Trey won’t lie to me,” Brittany responded. She found the self-worth and confidence Jennifer spoke of surprising. She sure didn’t feel either. “I trust him to respect our relationship. And me,” she added. “I trust him to break it off with me before he cheats. It’s that simple.”
She looked over her shoulder at Trey and found humbleness and gratitude in his eyes. She smiled shyly at him.
“I’d like nothing better than to be your stylist. Meanwhile, why don’t I schedule a mani, pedi, massage and facial for you?”
“That’s just what she needs.”
“Not today,” Brittany announced firmly. “If I don’t have a decent meal prepared for you and Bryson and a spotless house, he’s going to kick me out.”
“He does and that’ll be his ass.” Trey swore.
Brittany and Jennifer both laughed, and Brittany she swatted his arm.
“He is my brother, Treyshaun.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“And your best friend.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Shaking her head, Brittany booked her appointments for the manicure, pedicure, massage and facial for the following week. After bidding Jennifer good-bye, she and Trey walked hand-in-hand to the shopping mall. Trey had parked his truck in the garage there. At the time, she hadn’t realized Trey intended to take her shopping.
“I met Jennifer one day when I walked out of the bank after Elsie called and asked me to come in and sign some loan documents.”
“I was curious,” she admitted.
“I had no idea she owned such an upscale salon.”
“The women you, er, associated with are highly successful, it seems. Except me. I’m a breath away from being a college dropout.”
Trey opened the glass mall door and held it, then followed her inside and into the cool air. Spotting a nearby bench, he guided her to it. “What possessed you to change your career choice?”
As long as she didn’t think too hard, her demons remained at bay. Though she answered, she chose words that wouldn’t set either of them off. “I wanted to help and be there for others.”
A flash of ire touched Trey’s face and she stiffened. Caressing her hand and leashing his anger, Trey repeated her words. “Follow your heart. You had dreams and aspirations. Don’t set them aside. You can be there for others but in a different way.” He drew in a deep breath and hesitated. “Would you agree to counseling? I can find you a crisis center. Have you connect with someone you’ll feel comfortable with. Or, if you don’t want to go to a crisis center, I can get private counseling for you.”
Of course she needed counseling. She wanted it too. “Yes I’ll go. Sometimes I wish I had told the truth when Stephanie took me to the hospital. I would’ve gotten what I needed then. Maybe I would be whole by now. Or maybe I’ll never get whole again. There were times when I wished he’d just killed me.” She bowed her head. “He’ll never know what he did to me. What he took from me. Not only my innocence but almost my sanity.”
Trey gathered her in his arms. “Those statements are precisely the reason you need counseling and precisely the reason I can’t help you. I’m too close to you, too deeply invested. Every time I think of what happened to you, I want to kill. I’m angry with him, with you and with myself. I want you to tell me who did it and, at the same time I understand why you won’t. I feel as if I should’ve been there to protect you. Or I should’ve recognized you’d been hurt.”
“It isn’t your fault.”
“And it isn’t yours.” His fingers combed through the splinters of her hair. “But I’ve always taken care of you and the one time you needed me most, I wasn’t there for you.”
“Will what happened to me always stand between us?” She pulled back and stared at him.
“No. You work on you and I’ll work on me, and together we’ll work on us. But we’ll get through this. Together. And as long as we’re together, I’ll never let anything happen to you ever again.”
“There’s something I want besides counseling,” she whispered, fiddling with the buttons on his Polo shirt.
“And that is?”
“Classes to learn how to defend myself.”
Trey nodded and smiled. “That’s my Brittany,” he cheered. “I’ll teach you all types of defense techniques. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll even be able to bring down me.”
Brittany giggled. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
He raised his fist and she raised hers, and they bumped them together to seal the deal.
“Why don’t you take some time off from school and reassess what you want to do. Social work isn’t your first love.”
“You became a police officer because your father was killed. You love it now but that wasn’t your choice.”
“You’re not me.”
“No but I’m also not my mother’s only child. You wanted to join the Marine Corps. You wanted your time in the military to help pay for your education.”
“There were two wars going on at the time, in case you’ve forgotten. I thought of the thousands of men and women who’ve given their last full measure for our country and then I thought of my mother. She would’ve supported me but I chose what I thought was the safest route as her only child to honor my father’s legacy.”
“Yes you have. And you were right to do it,” she added, meaning it. “My point is you once had a dream of being a commercial airline pilot and—”
“And you wish that’s the path I’d chosen?”
“Yes but I know how much you love your work and I suspect I will love my new career choice equally as much once I actually get into it.”
“I doubt that. Your heart isn’t in it. Your brain is telling you it’s the right thing to do. Help. Give back. But for you to be truly happy with the work you do, you have to want to do it. Reevaluate what you’ve chosen. Sometimes the only way to do that is to step back and regroup.”
“And where am I supposed to go while I’m regrouping?” The moment she muttered the question, she regretted it. “What a stupid question. I can find a job and get an apartment, like normal people.”
Trey frowned. “You have a job and a place to stay. The apartment is big enough for the three of us to stay out of one another’s way.”
Brittany reminded herself she didn’t expect a lasting relationship with Trey so his words shouldn’t have left her feeling so hollow.
“Think about what I said,” he told her, standing. “Meanwhile, there’s another store I think you might like. We’ll go there before we go to Victoria’s Secret.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Later that evening, Trey rang the doorbell to Mitchell Thomas’ house. The lieutenant had called earlier and asked how Operation Brittany was progressing. Since Brittany had just scrubbed the bathtub with all sorts of cleaning products to take a hot soak with her new bath salts, Trey gave Mitch a brief rundown. When he mentioned he suspected Karl, Mitchell laughed it off and called Trey insane. After a few more minutes, the lieutenant had invited him and Brittany over for dinner, which was where they now found themselves.
“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” He breathed in the scent of her new perfume, another gift he’d purchased for her. While they’d walked around the mall, he’d asked her if she still liked the same brand of perfume. She’d told him she’d stopped wearing perfume just as she’d given up wearing clothes that showed her legs and had thrown out all her dainty nightclothes. She wanted nothing to attract attention.
The door swung opened. Spenser stood there wearing a pink top with white leggings, her belly protruding.
“Trey!” she said happily and turned sideways to hug him to stop her stomach from getting in the way.
“Hey, darlin’.” He returned her hug and kissed her cheek. He noticed her bare feet. “You take barefoot and pregnant a little literally, don’t you, Spense?” he quipped, dodging the punch she tried to give his arm.
“I don’t like shoes and you know that!”
“You riling up my wife, Sergeant Wilson?” Mitchell called from somewhere down the hall.
Mitchell had also told him about the tensions between him and Spenser.
Part of the reason Trey and Mitchell had decided to have dinner together tonight was the hope that Brittany and Spenser would form a friendship. Although the two women sharing a friendship would have no bearing on their relationships with their men, at least they would have each other—another woman who was also a police officer’s wife or girlfriend and who faced the same kind of stresses because of the jobs their significant others had. Besides, Trey thought Spenser’s high opinion of him might serve as a reminder to Brittany when he acted like an asshole, and Brittany’s high opinion of Mitchell might do the same. Nothing like a BFF to remind a woman about all the reasons her man was good for her.
Spenser held out her hand. “I’m Spenser Thomas. You must be Brittany.”
Brittany smiled, her red lipstick sending wicked thoughts through Trey’s head. She wore a pair of black skinny jeans and an orange top that made her eyes even more outstanding. Dainty earrings and black pumps with six-inch heels completed her new outfit. The red lace thong and matching bra beneath those clothes had him putting his arm around Brittany’s waist with a possessiveness he never thought himself capable of.
“Daddy!”
The little voice came from the same direction as Mitchell’s. Spenser’s blue eyes widened and she gazed in the direction of what sounded like an ominous commotion—peals of childish giggles and Mitchell’s exasperated reprimands.
“He…he promised he’d give me a day or two to rest…said he’d take care of the kids on his own,” she said, still hesitating.
There was a loud crash. Mitchell cursed and more peals of laughter filled the air. Spenser swallowed.
“I promised I wouldn’t interfere,” she said faintly.
“What’s he doing?” Brittany asked.
“Calming the kids down to put them to bed.”
Brittany wrinkled her nose at the happy screams filling the air. “Oh,” she murmured, scratching behind her ear.
A moment later, a door slammed and the heavy tread of Mitchell’s footsteps pounded on the wooden floors. “I’ve decided to let the kids just wear themselves—” His words died as he caught sight of Brittany. “What the fuck happened to your hair?”
Brittany bit down on her lip. Trey knew what she’d done to her hair still bothered her. In light of everything else he’d told Mitchell, he’d forgotten to warn the man.
“I cut it,” she mumbled, her eyes downcast. She drew in a deep breath and raised her gaze to Mitchell’s. “Y-you don’t like it?”
Trey glared at Mitchell, wordlessly warning him to tell Brittany he loved it.
“It…it’s lovely, Brit,” Mitchell stammered.
“I need to tell the kids good-night,” Spenser said. “Would you like to meet them?”
“I would love to.”
Spenser marched past Mitchell with Brittany following behind, her heels clicking on the floor. Brittany stopped to hug Mitchell before hurrying to catch up to his wife.
Trey and Mitchell stared at each other.
“I need a fucking drink,” Mitchell growled, spinning on his heel, leaving Trey to follow him to the spacious den.
They passed the room where all the activity was coming from and headed straight for the bar. Mitchell took a highball glass from the cabinet.
“What do you want?”
“What are you drinking?”
“Grey Goose and OJ.”
“Sounds like a winner to me.”
Drink in hand, Mitchell scowled at Trey. “My wife fucking hates me.”
“Your wife is pregnant and very near her due date. Give her a break.”
“You saw what she did! She didn’t even acknowledge me. I could’ve been a fucking painting on the wall. No, she would’ve paid more attention to me if I had been a fucking painting on the fucking wall.”
“Give her a chance to have the baby. See what she does then. Don’t go off the goddamn deep end until she leaves. If she leaves.”
“If? I told her I loved her and she never once responded. Not then and not now.”
“And she always does?”
“Yes,” Mitchell snapped. He drained his glass, slammed it on the bar then poured another drink. “Always.” His shoulders slumped. “What am I supposed to do?”
Trey considered Mitchell’s question. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “Put yourself in her shoes,” he advised. “Listen to what she’s telling you, Mitch.”
“She wants to get her tubes tied.”
“So she’s moved from wanting birth control to getting her tubes tied? And the problem is?”
Mitchell didn’t respond.
“There’s also the rhythm method. Withdrawal. That shouldn’t interfere with your beliefs.”
The lieutenant’s cheeks reddened and he leaned forward. “When I wooed Spenser back, I promised her I would take better care not to get her pregnant. But fuck it all, how can I explain to you how much I love her? I can fucking barely remember my goddamn name when she’s in my arms. So I didn’t keep to my word and, fuck it all, she got pregnant and she’s hated me ever since.”
“How can a man who’s so determined to live by the church’s rule about not interfering with God’s will have such a foul fucking mouth?”
Mitchell glared at Trey.
Trey sipped his drink. “Have you ever considered how much Spenser loves you? This is the twenty-first century. She doesn’t need your permission to get on birth control. She could do it without you ever being the wiser. But she didn’t. She wants you happy and has been pregnant for five of the last seven years. Where’s the fairness? How are you showing her you love her and respect her wishes?”
“Trey—”
“You either lose Spenser or you give in.”
“Yes I know. Four kids are damn expensive. Five is going to fucking bankrupt me.”
Trey laughed. “You’re an asshole, you know?”
“So I’ve been told, Sergeant.” Mitchell gave a laugh of his own. “Enough about me. From what I can observe, you and Brittany are lovers.”
“Yes.”
“Does that have anything to do with her cutting off her hair?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to tell Bryson?”
“He already knows. He isn’t happy. He thinks I’m going to hurt her.”
“And what do you think?”
Trey studied his drink. “That I’m in over my head. Brittany is more important to me than I care to admit.”
“You just did.”
“Yes I did, didn’t I? Which is why I understand what you’re saying about being with Spenser.”
Mitchell narrowed his eyes. “And what the fuck does that mean?”
“Nothing, Mitchell. Nothing at all,” Trey responded, feeling guilty. From somewhere outside, the roar of an engine broke the pleasant silence.
“Now who’s being the asshole?” Mitchell bit out, frowning at the window. With the curve of the house, this room faced the street, usually quiet and peaceful. Tonight, the screeching of tires, loud male voices and revving engines sounded as if a drag race was happening. “Brittany better not turn up pregnant. I think I’d shoot you my-fucking-self.”
“Stay the fuck out of it. If she’s pregnant, it’s between us.”
“Fuck me. I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Car doors were slamming and Trey wondered what the hell was going on. Mitchell was frowning, narrowing his eyes at the activity.
“You’re the one who told me having a wife and family to come home to isn’t so bad,” Trey growled, unreasonable tension knotting in him.
Something wasn’t right.
“I certainly did, genius,” Mitchell agreed, turning to the top cabinet behind him and pulling out two .357s with silencers. He slid one to Trey. “Since there might be a baby, where’s the goddamn ring?”
Voices, shouts and curses sounded, all too close not to be on Mitchell’s property.
After removing the safety and opening the chamber to make sure the gun was loaded, Trey threw back his drink. He saw Brittany following Spenser toward the front of the house, probably to the kitchen. Like Spenser, Brit now had her shoes off. “Shove it.”
A frantic ringing of the doorbell broke the tension, and dire warning unfurled in Trey’s gut.
“I got it,” Spenser called.
Trey shot to his feet. “Brittany! Spenser!” he called, running toward the hallway, the gun poised.
“Stay quiet!” Mitchell ordered Spenser just as she called, “Who is it?”
The moment Spenser spoke, Trey jerked Brittany back and Mitchell shoved Spenser behind him. Gunfire exploded around them, blowing the lock off the door and spewing glass everywhere. The door slammed opened and the women screamed. Two masked gunmen framed the doorway, firing high-velocity rounds in opposite directions.
Trey wrapped Brittany in his arms, twisting out of the line of fire and pulling the trigger in rapid succession. One of the men dropped to the ground, a river of blood exploding from the side of his head. The other man, closer to Mitchell, stumbled back under the impact of a bullet. His finger jerked on the trigger and bullets riddled the foyer as he crumpled to the ground and then he lay still.
Somewhere through Trey’s haze—and Brittany’s and Spenser’s screams—he heard children crying, calling for their mother and father.
The gunfire couldn’t have lasted more than a minute. Both Mitchell and Trey had emptied their guns into the two perpetrators. Mitchell was already on his cellphone, calling 9-1-1, so Trey managed to get both women down the hall to where the kids were.
Quickly, he checked them for injuries.
“Fuck you!” Mitchell’s shout rang through the house just as more gunfire erupted in a quick volley.
“Mitch!” Spenser screamed, starting for the door.
Trey stopped her. “Stay here. Both of you,” he ordered, pushing a shaking Brittany to Spenser and rushing out, his heart in his throat. He didn’t know if he’d find Mitchell dead or alive.
“Talk to me, motherfucker!” Mitchell kicked the man he’d shot, wielding the assailant’s gun. He aimed the barrel at the man’s head. “You have five fucking seconds. One.”
“Mitchell!” Trey needed to break through his friend’s wild fury before he did something stupid.
“Two.” Mitchell cocked the gun.
“Fuck! If you want your fucking head, talk!” Trey commanded the moaning man.
“Three.” Bending down, Mitchell shoved the gun against the man’s temple.
“You wasn’t supposed to be here!” the man relented. “Just yo lady.”
“My pregnant wife.” Mitchell’s hand shook. “Who sent you?”
“I don’t know. I swear it!” the assailant sobbed when Mitchell jammed the barrel of the gun in the man’s ear. “We was just told your woman needed iced.”
The announcement sent chills through Trey and he was surprised Mitchell didn’t pull the trigger. He resembled a madman.
“We wasn’t told she was pregnant,” the man volunteered, gasping for breath as sirens began blaring outside.
“Where’s Mitchell?” Spenser called from behind Trey, her voice trembling.
“A-are y-you all r-right?” Brittany asked.
She rushed into his arms as Spenser caught sight of her husband, who was rising to his feet and holding out his arms to his wife. She launched herself against him.
“I thought you were dead!” she sobbed. “I heard more gunfire.”
Police officers began swarming in like buzzing bees. The lights of an ambulance swirled in the darkness. In the background, Mitchell’s children were sobbing.
“This one just expired, Lieutenant,” a female officer announced, indicating the man who’d been talking.
“Spenser needs to go and get checked out at the hospital,” Mitchell said, his anger barely restrained.
“No! No, I want to stay with you. I’m fine. The baby’s fine.”
Mitchell went motionless for a moment.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Then take Brittany and see to the kids so Trey and I can take care of things here. I’ll finish as soon as I can.”
Frantically she touched his face and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I love you. I love you. I do!”
“I love you too. It’s fine. You’re fine. I’m fine.” Mitchell’s gaze met Trey’s and fury burned in the man’s green-brown eyes.
Brittany stepped out of Trey’s embrace and hugged herself. She smiled at him, tremulous and scared, then joined Spenser. Brittany kept her head averted from the two dead men near the door.
“Come on.” Her voice was stronger than it had been before but still weak and strained. “The kids are upset. They need you right now. I-I’ll be in there with you if you need anything.” She brushed at her cheeks, swiping away the silent tears streaming down her face.
Spenser and Brittany hugged each other, then walked towards the bedrooms, arm in arm.
“What happened here, Lieutenant Thomas?”
Wekler. The man who’d ogled Brittany.
“Someone wanted my wife dead,” he said in an ice-cold voice. “I want IDs on these two dead fuckers and I want the name of the motherfucker who sent assassins after Spenser.”