When Trey awakened the next day, the sun streamed through his open curtains. The smell of frying chicken and buttermilk biscuits made his stomach growl. He glanced at the clock.
Hell. It was already after two in the afternoon. But after the night he’d had—lasting well into the early morning—he wasn’t surprised he’d slept so late. Brittany and Spenser had bonded, all right. Their shared trauma had forged a friendship no amount of time could have created. Once the bodies had been removed and the statements had been made, Mitchell announced he was going to take Spenser and his children to his parents’ house, since her parents lived in Nebraska. He thought the farther away she was the better, but Spenser refused. Their baby was weeks away from delivery and she wanted to be near Mitchell. Unable to win the argument, Mitchell had given in, so Brittany and Spenser packed things for the kids and things for her.
As Trey was taking Brittany home, Mitchell was loading his wife and children into his car and taking her to what he hoped was a safe house. With the police protection Mitchell had already put into place for her and his kids, Trey decided Spenser would be as safe as she could be until Mitchell found whoever had sent men to kill his wife.
Wearily, Trey made his way to the bathroom to shower and shave, hearing the hum of voices. Brittany’s followed by Bryson’s, punctuated with feminine sniffs and occasional bouts of masculine curses. Grim, Trey didn’t have to be told Brittany was reliving what she’d gone through at Mitchell’s house last night. Bryson had already been informed. While the women had been packing, Trey and Mitchell had called him.
When Trey finally joined them, Bryson was sitting at the dinette table slicing a cucumber.
“I never knew you had it in you to be a sous chef, Bryson.” Trey’s gaze found Brittany’s. “Afternoon, baby girl.”
She glanced at Bryson then back to him, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Afternoon, Trey.” She shot another glance at Bryson before she hurried to Trey and brushed her lips against his. Traces of lingering fear widened her eyes. “You can tear apart the lettuce for me.” Ignoring Bryson’s scowl, she grabbed a head of iceberg lettuce and shoved it at Trey then pointed to an empty seat at the table.
Slicing the cucumber with studious precision, Bryson glowered at the vegetable. “I do have a knife, you know, Brit?” He didn’t take his attention from his task.
Brittany slapped his head. “And you’re not using it for anything but cutting vegetables.”
Bryson glared at Trey, popping a slice of cucumber into his mouth.
Ignoring Bryson, Trey got a colander from the cabinet then sat across from his friend and began tearing the lettuce into small pieces.
“I’m going to the gym to play a little three-on-three,” Bryson grouched. “Wanna come?”
Trey wanted to play against Bryson and whip his ass. Basketball was one of the ways he cleared his head and released tension but he didn’t know how Brittany would handle being alone. After the shooting, he was sure staying in the apartment without anyone else was the last thing she wanted.
Brittany turned back to the frying chicken on the stove, but as if she’d sensed his hesitation, she said, “I’ll be fine. I’m going to clean up here. Do the job I’ve been hired to do, since you’ve already paid me. I’m also going to unpack my things and put away the stuff you bought me yesterday.”
Her voice sounded unnaturally high. Ignoring the putrid stare on Bryson’s face, Trey gazed at her. “Are you sure? You can always come with us.”
Poking a fork through the hard outer crust, she tested the chicken’s readiness. Apparently satisfied, she began removing the pieces from the hot oil, one leg at a time. “Yes. Positive. And-and no, I can’t come with you. I-I can’t f-follow you everywhere. Whenever you go back to work, I won’t be able to come there every night.”
His brave, beautiful little Brittany. Trey studied the lettuce a moment and gave a sidelong glance to Bryson. “You’ve practically taken over my room, Brit. Why don’t you put your things there?”
Turning off the burner, she pushed the frying pan containing the grease to the back burner. “Are you giving me your room or asking me to share it with you?”
Very aware of Bryson’s rising anger and the knife in the man’s hand, he answered as casually as he could. “I want you to share my room with me.”
Anger tightened Bryson’s jaw and swamped his eyes. Both Trey and Bryson opened their mouths to speak at the same time but Bryson glanced pointedly at Brittany. Trey gazed in her direction and the look of adoration glimmering in her eyes made Trey’s breath catch.
“Truly?” she whispered.
Clearing his throat, he set the lettuce aside. Perhaps he was speaking out of his own trauma but that bullet could’ve hit anyone, even though it had been intended for Spenser. The last few days had been both heaven and hell for him. The pendulum had been swinging from joy and trepidation upon her arrival to fury and helplessness at her trauma to a passion and desire he’d never known. “Yes. Positive.”
She transferred that same look of awe and adoration to Bryson, apparently believing he’d come to terms with their affair. Even if he hadn’t, which Trey knew was the case, Bryson’s laughable chagrin silenced any angry words the man might have had. “You’re okay with that, Bry?”
Bryson cleared his throat and croaked, “Yes.”
She beamed a smile at them. “Would you finish the salad while I go freshen up? I smell like a grease ball.” With that, she rushed off.
Bryson turned evil eyes on Trey. “You stupid son-of-a-bitch,” Bryson snarled. “Why in the fuck would you do something so boneheaded? Brittany’s reading something into this that’s not there.”
As if Trey didn’t know that. “Shut the fuck up. I didn’t hear your ignorant ass raising any objections.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, reliving her fear and terror, her screams. He couldn’t imagine how Mitchell was feeling, knowing someone wanted his wife dead.
“If you hurt her, you’re going to be cock-less.” His tone dark, Bryson broke into Trey’s thoughts.
Trey didn’t respond, and Bryson strode to the cabinet and pulled out a bowl for the salad.
✽ ✽ ✽
“If it isn’t Mr. Loverman,” Karl said with a sardonic smile the moment Trey led Bryson into the gym.
“Fuck off, Karl. I’m not in the mood. My night was completely fucked up. Don’t fuck with me today.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Cousin. I’ll say an extra prayer for you tonight.” Karl looked past him to greet Bryson. “Where’s the gorgeous little Brittany?”
“At home,” Bryson answered, nodding at the three other men who would participate in the game.
“Alone?” Karl raised a brow. “After you dragged her down to the precinct with you, you leave her alone at the apartment?”
Trey glowered in Bryson’s direction. “Stupid ass.”
“Why don’t you close your damn mouth, Karl?” Bryson snapped. “I told you what I did in confidence. Not so you could blab it everywhere.”
“Bryson sought spiritual advice,” Karl said mildly. “His sister suffered a violent crime. He needed prayers and so does she. Maybe I should offer her counseling.”
Trey’s body stiffened and he barreled toward Karl. “No.”
“I do offer marital counseling, cuz.”
“This is crisis counseling. Out of your league. You didn’t need to know what happened to her, anyway. It’s not your fucking business.”
Karl widened his eyes. “What the hell is going on with you two? You’re both ready to ram a foot up someone’s rear end.”
“Someone shot up Lieutenant Thomas’ house.” Bryson went to where the balls were and began to dribble. “Wanted his wife dead. Thank fuck he was home. Trey and Brittany just happened to be there.”
“Now I understand why Trey’s so on edge,” Karl murmured as their other friends walked up. “After learning your new girlfriend was so savagely raped—“
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Trey shoved Karl back, pinning him to the wall. “Announcing her business like that? You out your fucking mind?”
Karl’s complexion grew a little gray. “O-of course not, Tr-Trey. We’re amongst friends. We’re trying to help. I especially want to help. Have you considered Brittany’s sinful ways led her to her troubles?”
Trey grabbed handfuls of Karl’s sleeveless top. “If you ever spout that to her, you’re going to be picking up your goddamn teeth off the floor.”
“Whoa, whoa, Trey. Calm down,” Bryson advised, pulling him away.
Karl glanced at his watch then at the clock on the wall above the bleachers in the far corner. He whistled, his brows drawing together. “Is it that late already?”
Cedric shot a ball to Trey, who caught it and spun it on his finger.
“What you talking about, man?” Cedric whooped with laughter. “All we been hearing for the past hour is Bryson and Trey was coming with the sweet Brittany. Now you ready to roll?”
“Keep Brittany’s name out your damn mouth, Karl,” Trey warned.
“Yeah, sure. I can’t even try to help her and she was my friend too. I keep forgetting. She’s yours.”
“Right, uh-huh. Just until the next shortie comes breezing by,” Larry said.
Male laughter greeted the statement.
“Shortie, my ass,” Cedric retorted. “Trey likes his women tall.”
“Guess he would,” Jonathan called. “He’s such a big sonofabitch.”
“Let’s start the game,” Trey spat, his temper rising.
“Hey, Ced, you’re going to have to be the switch player, man. These dudes took so long to get here I forgot all about my other appointment. Besides, I’m not Trey’s favorite person right now.”
“You sure the fuck aren’t, Karl. I’m going to call you later so we can straighten some things out.”
“I have an important call later.”
“If I were you, I’d make my call a priority.”
“What the fuck’s going on?” Bryson said. “We got here five minutes late. And just ignore Trey’s bad mood. He’s concerned about Brittany, just as we all are.”
“You may be concerned about her but you’re not threatening me.”
“Trey’s doing a fine job of it. Why interfere? If I thought he needed back-up, I’d be the first to fuck you up. But he’ll set the record straight and you will too. You’ll make him understand, although you talk too fucking much about Brittany, you really don’t mean any harm.”
“Yeah, why talk about Brittany? Why not talk about Destiny, your woman?” Trey asked.
Bryson looked startled. “You have a woman?”
“He sure as hell do,” Cedric piped up. “Beautiful woman.”
“Almost the spitting image of Brittany,” Trey announced.
“Can’t be,” Cedric denied. “Ain’t a woman alive more banging than Destiny. I’ve tried to steal her away from this fool but she won’t budge.”
“No, Ced. Trey’s right,” Karl conceded. “Brittany’s complexion is a little lighter than Destiny’s and her eyes are some lovely combination of yellow, orange and brown. Brittany is quite petite too.”
Karl’s gaze traveled over Trey’s body and Trey could almost see the prurient direction of his cousin’s thoughts.
“Yo, yo, yo, Karl. You sound like you want Brittany yourself.” Cedric laughed. “Think that can happen? You’ll steal your cousin’s woman?”
“No fucking chance,” Trey gritted, the very thought annoying him.
Karl shrugged. “What can I say? Brittany was a beautiful little girl who grew into a gorgeous woman. Even if I wanted to steal her, she never saw anyone but Trey.” He sighed, looking miserable. “Look, fellows, I have another appointment.”
“Fine,” Trey snapped, dribbling the ball. Karl’s sudden departure didn’t concern him. He’d had to leave a game, several times in the past, due to his busy schedule. Today, though, his cousin’s easy-going manner irritated the fuck out of Trey. Besides, after last night, he was determined to stick to his guns and believe Karl would never hurt Brittany. He had to. Otherwise, he’d blow him the fuck away. Maybe, Karl leaving the gym was for the best. “Fuck off then. Bounce. I’m ready to ball.”