“You’re a fucking coward, Donovan,” Trey murmured with amusement, opening the door of the 328i sedan and sitting in the driver’s seat. “My wedding was two weeks ago and we haven’t seen you once. My wife’s a very forgiving girl. She doesn’t want to gut you any longer for helping me corner her into marrying me.”
The car salesman hovered nearby so Trey wouldn’t get into the real reason he knew Bryson stayed away. Brittany told Trey about her demand she and Bryson talk. The man was running scared and the longer Bryson stayed away, the more Brittany fumed. If she hadn’t been spending her evenings with Mitchell’s wife, she would’ve come to the station to confront her brother.
It was mid-October and the intense heat spell was lessening. Rain had even graced them last week. They were getting closer to the holiday season and Trey didn’t want anything to mar his first Christmas as Brittany’s husband. She and Spenser were discussing what to do for Halloween with the kids. Or more to the point, Brittany was telling Spenser what they were going to do. She was talking about the menu for Thanksgiving, having the entire Thomas family in their little apartment. She’d wanted him to invite his mother but he made her call.
He wondered if his mother had used as many Kleenex as Brittany had.
Trey knew she wanted to include her brother but she needed to clear the air first. He refused to have Bryson show up during a time when Brittany was putting all her plans into motion.
“The car’s a beaut,” Mitchell commented from somewhere behind Bryson and the short, gray-haired salesman.
Trey gazed back and frowned. He climbed out of the car, slammed the door shut and barreled through the small crowd. Wekler, out of uniform, was there as was Karl and Cedric.
“What the fuck is this?” Trey asked.
“I have a wife too, you know?” Mitchell informed him. “I overheard you asking Bryson to help pick out a car for Brittany. Never heard a fucking better idea. Besides, I should buy your wife a car myself. Spenser has a long road ahead of her but whatever the fuck Brittany told her…” He shook his head then walked to the car next to the one Trey was considering.
Whatever Brittany had told Spenser… The thought trailed through Trey’s head. What had Brittany told Spenser? Brittany enjoyed her time at the Thomas household and relished what Spenser taught her about graphics. No matter her brave front, Trey knew she was also relieved not to have to stay in the apartment alone at night.
He sure as hell was relieved. Stopping in and making love, er, checking on her was appealing but impossible to do on a daily basis.
“Well, sir? Whenever you’re ready we can take it for a test drive.”
Studying the small silver car, Trey wondered if he should look at a bigger model. Or go to a less-expensive dealership for a minivan. He wanted her to have what he believed every girl dreamed of, white picket fence and all.
“Brittany would love this car, Sarge.” Wekler framed his face and leaned against the backdoor window. “A beautiful girl belongs in a beautiful car.”
Pride and satisfaction surged in Trey at the other man’s wistful envy and he nodded. “You’re right. By the way, what are the three of you doing here?”
Guilt crossed Wekler’s features and he shifted his weight. “I needed to discuss something with the lieutenant. When I called him he told me to meet him here. Excuse me, sir. I think I’ll get to that conversation.” He reached Mitchell the same time as another salesman.
Lifting a brow at Bryson, Trey indicated Cedric and Karl. “I suppose you called those two?”
“Not to meet here. I mentioned where we were going and I told Karl I’d try to talk you into going to the gym.” Bryson turned to the other two men. “What are you doing here?”
“Yo, man. Ask this fool. I was ridin’ with him and he decided to stop here. You said Trey and the missus been real happy. Suppose Karl wanted to peep that for himself.” Snorting, Cedric strolled away.
“I didn’t know how else to see you,” Karl confessed, standing tense and ramrod straight.
The pity in his eyes and sadness in his voice gave Trey pause. “My cell number hasn’t changed. You could’ve called me.”
“Yeah, Karl,” Bryson inserted, his brow creasing. “Or you could’ve given me a message. Or stopped at the station.”
“I haven’t been to the station in months,” Karl scoffed. “I don’t care for the lieutenant and he doesn’t care for me. If I had known he would be here, I would’ve gone to the apartment instead.”
Trey opened his mouth to warn Karl to stay away then changed his mind. Brittany gave Trey free access to her diary. So he was guilty of already thumbing through it the night he’d called Mitchell. And who cared if he were guilty of stopping at the apartment when he knew she’d be at Spenser’s and searching through her things, looking for another journal, the one other time he’d gotten a chance to stop home while on duty? Several new things had been revealed to him. That she and Bryson didn’t have the same father still stunned him. Her heartbreak as they talked about it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat.
He also knew she’d been quite hurt when he sent her away but the depths of her devastation and the extent of how much she’d missed him shamed him. He swore he’d make it up to her. In her diary she admitted how much she enjoyed making love to Trey, not that he cared to think about that without her nearby so he could show her the feeling was mutual. His dick hurt thinking about one sentence in particular: I love the way Trey tastes and feels against my tongue. He never brought up the snatches of shame she sometimes felt too, about their lovemaking. She was coping by getting her feelings out and she intended to see a therapist. Despite everything she wrote, not one of her words revealed a name, what Trey wanted most.
Though something kept him from ruling out Karl, Trey insisted Brittany would admit it now they were married. Even in her journal she wrote about a session in which the counselor suggested the man was using intimidation tactics when he threatened Trey and Bryson. From what she wrote, Brittany believed the woman’s words.
Yet she always said “the man”, “him”, “he”. Never a fucking name.
Karl shoved an envelope into Trey’s hands, grabbing his attention. The salesman looked more than a little pissed off. The man must’ve thought Trey was wasting his time.
“Mr. Mercer, I intend to purchase a car from you for my wife.” He smiled at the man’s relief. Still talking, he began opening the envelope. “If you wouldn’t mind showing me a couple more, I’ll make my decision.” A wad of money fell into his hands and Trey stared at it, incredulous. “What the fuck is this?”
Again he noted Karl’s pity, this time accompanied by a shrug.
“I understand your need to make sure Brittany’s happy since she didn’t want to marry you. You’re only a police officer, unable to give a girl like Brittany what she deserves. Diamonds and big houses and fine cars. She’s part of our family now and I want you happy.” He smiled, his benign look as infuriating as his casual brushes to his crisp, blue blazer. “You’ll be happy as long as she is. Consider this a wedding gift to ensure she’ll remain at your side.”
A wedding gift? Then why did Karl make it sound as if Trey didn’t deserve Brittany and never would? Rage roared through him, screamed from his mouth in a burst of fury, and he was sure even the demons in hell trembled at the sound.
“Fuck you,” he snarled, slamming the money against Karl’s chest and shoving past him toward another vehicle.