by Jayne Rylon
“What the…” Ollie sounded as if he’d taken the phone away from his ear and was staring at it like Trevon was crazy.
“I don’t have time to explain. Please. It’s important.” Trevon couldn’t bear to think what his damn error and waiting this long to sell the motorcycle might have cost Devra already.
“Okay. Give me five. I’ll call you back with his answer.” Ollie muttered under his breath as he disconnected.
Trevon hung up the shop phone, then wandered over to the Indian. He settled on the cushy new seat and stroked the fuel tank, saying his last goodbyes. It felt like letting go of his pop all over again.
Better that than having to watch Devra be ripped away from him. And Quinn.
The instant the phone rang, he lunged for it. “Hot Rides.”
“It’s done. You’ll have the money in an hour or so,” Ollie said. “I hope whatever you needed that cash for was worth it.”
“It is. Thanks, Ollie. I really owe you one.” Trevon ended the call before he could get emotional.
He looked back at the bike one last time, then turned off the lights in the garage.
When he turned to leave, Quinn was standing right in front of him, his face pale and his eyes crinkled at the corners as if he was in pain. “What did you do?”
“What I had to.” Trevon shrugged as if it was no big deal when his heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. “I sold Pop’s bike.”
He couldn’t decide if he should be miserable or doing cartwheels at the moment.
“Why?” Quinn grabbed the phone. “Call him back. Tell him the deal’s off. I’ve got this. You don’t have to give up the Indian to save Devra. I’ll cover the legal fees, assuming we can get things straightened out tomorrow.”
“She’s my wife. I can take care of her.” Trevon tried not to be insulted. He knew Quinn was only attempting to help, but at some point he wanted to be able to provide for the woman he loved. Hell, for the man he loved, too. Even if Quinn didn’t need his assistance now, he might someday.
Quinn backed up a step and then another. He’d already been on the verge of a meltdown when he’d left earlier. It looked like Trevon had unintentionally triggered him, shoving him into an abyss filled with bad memories and emotional scars. “I guess you’re right. It was wrong of me to assume I had any claim over either of you. You’re married. I’m just the guy you fuck on the side.”
“What the hell did you say?” Oh shit. Now they’d done it. Devra must have heard them shouting and run over from the cottage. She prowled toward them with her hands on her hips. She might have been small, but she was no one to mess around with.
Trevon felt like he needed to fix things before they got even more out of control. “Devra, calm down. It’s my fault. I keep fucking up. I didn’t mean it like that, Quinn. Not at all. It’s just that I caused all of this. I put Devra in this situation because I messed up her application.”
Of course Devra and Quinn both rushed to reassure him. Except then Quinn stopped short of telling him everything would be fine.
“Guys.” Quinn cleared his throat. “I have some bad news. It’s worse than the simple stuff.”
He straightened his spine, then told them the facts about what Agent Mikalski had discovered and the fraud claims that had been filed against Devra.
“So it really was because of me.” Trevon doubled over clutching his knees. “I was curious. If she hadn’t been generous and willing to experiment so that I would finally know for sure…none of this would have happened.”
Devra gasped. “Trevon, that’s ridiculous. This all started because I couldn’t handle feeling useless and I was too afraid to ask for what I wanted—you. As my husband, in every sense of the word. Along the way I discovered something I needed that I hadn’t even known about before. At the end of the day, nothing we’ve done is wrong. Nothing violates the intent of the law. It’s just not written for people like us.”
“Agent Mikalski said that right there is your best argument at your interview. You’ll have to convince them that we have something special. Something equal to a traditional marriage. Something that’s not sordid or clandestine. They’ll need to understand that Trevon is aware and onboard with it.”
“That won’t be hard. Each of us has made sacrifices and mistakes. And we’re all willing to give each other grace and forgiveness at our own expense.” Devra smiled at Trevon and Quinn. “That’s how I know for sure.”
“Know what?” Quinn asked.
“That we love each other.” Despite the gravity of the situation, her smile outshone the stars beginning to twinkle overhead.
“I do,” Quinn promised, and held his hands out to them. “I love you both.”
“Same.” Trevon took Quinn’s hand and held his out to Devra.
“Not only do I love you both, but I’m in love with you, too.” Devra sighed. “That’s not something I thought I’d be lucky enough to experience once, never mind twice, in my lifetime. So even if it was only for a little while, I’m grateful.”
She took their hands, completing the circle.
“If it has to be that way…if they make you leave, I’ll come with you,” Trevon told her. “You’re not going to be on your own again.”
Quinn made an oomph sound as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
Trevon wondered if Quinn would be able to walk away from Hot Rides, Hot Rods, and the only family that had ever stood by him to chase Devra and Trevon halfway around the world. He was noble enough to try it. Except Trevon knew that whether he stayed or followed, he’d always be torn in two.
Besides, Devra wasn’t having any of that anyway. “No. Trevon, promise you won’t. Look what happened to my father. He was far less controversial than you would be in my society. No. Quinn needs you. And we promised we’d never leave him. If I can’t keep my word, I want you to do it for me. It will make things bearable if I’m sure the two of you are happy and together.”
Trevon started to argue. Quinn stopped him and said, “We’re not going to agree on this. So let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I don’t want to waste tonight fighting. I’d rather spend it loving you both.”
Trevon could agree to that.
So they did.
28
Quinn, Trevon, and Devra stood down the street from the government building in the next larger city over from Middletown. The guys were dressed in suits they’d had to borrow from friends, since they figured ripped jeans and oil-stained shirts probably wouldn’t help them appear more respectable than they actually were, while Devra wore a simple, modest black dress. She’d pulled her hair up into a bun and applied enough neutral-toned makeup to feel at her best without going over the top and looking too done up.
It was absolutely crazy to her that someone’s first impression of them might determine the entire course of her future. But that was a reality they had to face.
Mr. Ribold, the immigration lawyer Alanso had recommended and Trevon had retained, trailed a few steps behind them. He kind of frightened her, which she figured was a good thing in this situation. He was stern, direct, and intelligent.
Mr. Ribold had been briefed, and though he wasn’t sure how much he could assist, he’d agreed to come with them that morning. He damn well better, since Trevon had already sacrificed Pop’s bike for the man’s help.
It was another weight added to her growing burden of guilt. She was hurting people she loved just by being. She had nothing to do with the war raging in her country, yet the evil tendrils radiating out from the conflict were wrapping around even more blameless people here and pulling them into the trouble as surely as they’d ensnared her father.
Devra clutched her stomach, then smoothed out her dress for the thousandth time.
Two minutes early, Agent Mikalski appeared at their meeting point. He introduced himself to Devra, Trevon, and their lawyer, shaking their hands. “Are you ready for this?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “But I’m prepared to lay myself bare a
nd hope it’s enough.”
“Should Trevon and I stay with you guys or wait outside?” Quinn asked.
“What do you want to get out of today?” Agent Mikalski stared at Quinn, as if telling him not to be stupid.
“I want to show whoever determines what happens to my family that we are in a committed, loving relationship, even if that doesn’t look like an old-fashioned, government-recognized marriage. I’ll do anything to reduce the risk of Devra being deported. I love her and Trevon.”
Devra and Trevon smiled warmly, first at each other, then at Quinn. Devra said, “That’s what we want, too. Please let them come with me. If I have to go…I want to spend every last minute with them I can.”
“And if the decision is to send you away?” Agent Mikalski asked, and Devra got the feeling it was some sort of test. She didn’t blame him for his mini-interrogation. After all, it was his ass—and career—on the line, too.
“Then at least I know they’ll have each other. It’s most important to me that they’re okay.” Devra sniffed. “I’ll be fine.”
Judging by their deadpan faces, they all knew that was a lie. Both because her heart would never recover and because her country would be a toxic environment for her, especially if any hint of why she’d been deported was to be leaked. She wouldn’t last long back home.
“I haven’t known your lovers long,” Agent Mikalski told Quinn. “But seeing you like this, having these discussions, is telling me everything I need to know. I took this job to be on the side of what’s right, and today I believe that’s keeping you together. So I’ll do what I can. Like I told you before, the best shot you have is to be completely honest and open. Let everyone who doubts your story see what I see right now.”
Quinn drew a deep breath then exhaled. He took Devra’s hand in one of his and Trevon’s in the other. Together, they walked toward the monolithic marble building where their fate would be decided by strangers while Mr. Ribold marched one step behind, straightening his tie as if he was adjusting his armor for battle.
“I’ll see you inside,” Agent Mikalski said, then disappeared.
“He’s a little too good at that,” Devra said under her breath.
When they reached the door, their lawyer held it open and ushered them inside. Devra shivered. Not only because of the overpowering air-conditioning and clinical, artificial light that wiped out the effects of the sunshine on her skin either.
“We can do this,” Quinn said to no one in particular, probably trying to convince himself more than her and Trevon.
After they went to the front desk, they were directed to a no-frills waiting room where the forty-five minutes they were delayed seemed like an eternity. Trevon tapped his toe, Quinn drummed his fingers on his leg, and Devra tried to look nonchalant when every instinct in her was screaming at her to flee.
“Mrs. Russell?” a woman asked from the entry to a long interior hallway.
Devra stood, and her guys did, too. They flanked her as they approached the stern woman. Devra smiled and said hello, but the woman didn’t respond. Instead, she motioned for Devra, Quinn, Trevon, and Mr. Ribold to follow her down the windowless corridor.
They were shown into a bland beige room with a single crappy conference table and a one-way mirror on the wall. Though she hadn’t heard the door lock behind the woman who’d showed them in, Devra already felt like she was being held against her will. The walls closed in around her.
Devra couldn’t wait for Agent Mikalski to come through the door. At least then she’d feel like they had someone on their side.
Except when someone did join them—after another interminable half hour—it wasn’t Agent Mikalski.
It was a balding man in an ill-fitting suit with a red tie that looked like it had been cinched too tight, putting his head in danger of popping right off. He hardly glanced at them as he mumbled his name, Agent Donaldson, before plopping into a chair across from them.
He opened a folder and sifted through a few papers. One was a full-sheet copy of the picture of her and Quinn kissing. Another seemed to be a long letter, probably the complaint about her working at Hot Rides.
For a moment, Devra wished Quinn and Trevon hadn’t talked back to that hateful bully that day. Except she knew combating stereotypes and preconceived notions—about her homeland, her customs, and just plain her—would be something she had to deal with for the rest of the time she spent in Quinn and Trevon’s world.
Right now, she was growing more and more certain that might only be another five minutes. Her throat felt like it was closing and it was getting difficult to breathe the stale air, which stung her throat.
Quinn looked to Mr. Ribold, who shook his head no, indicating they shouldn’t offer any excuses or talk before being asked direct questions. Devra felt like her neck was resting in a guillotine and she was waiting for the blade to drop.
“Mrs. Russell, it seems we’ve invited you in today to discuss some information we’ve received that questions the validity of your marriage as well as testimony that you’re doing unauthorized work in this country.” Agent Donaldson droned on, as if he was only seeing the ink on the papers and not the living, breathing people in front of him.
Devra looked at Trevon, memorizing every detail of him, and then she did the same to Quinn. This was going to be goodbye.
“My client has not taken payment for any labor that violates her status.” Mr. Ribold translated her actions into legal jargon. “She has, on occasion, provided uncompensated assistance that would not constitute formal employment and she will not be doing so again from this point forward.”
The agent grunted without even looking up from his folder. “Would you like to address the allegations of fraud relating to your marriage with Mr. Russell?” Agent Donaldson asked, this time meeting her gaze for a fleeting pass.
“I would yes,” she said when Mr. Ribold began to reply for her. Like Agent Mikalski said, the only shot she had was to make this jaded bureaucrat understand what it was like to be her and to be in love, equally, with two people who complemented each other and made her life whole.
“Go ahead.”
“I love Trevon. Our marriage is true in every sense.” Ironically, it hadn’t been until they’d met Quinn. He was the thing that had bonded them, not broken them. She paused to look over at her husband, who smiled back at her, encouraging her to go on.
“Then would you care to explain this?” The man placed the photo on the table and spun it toward her. “I tend to think it’s pretty undeniable evidence, especially since you’ve brought this man with you here today.”
“It’s proof that I am capable of loving more than one person. A fact my husband understands and supports, as he also loves Quinn.” Devra sat straighter, daring the man to say it was untrue. He could have no ammunition against her statements because they were completely honest and accurate. The truth was her best and only defense.
Mr. Ribold added on, “Recent changes to LGBTQ status recognition have set precedents that support the acceptance of non-traditional definitions of marriage. In this case, my client and her husband are engaged in a polyamorous relationship that includes Mr. Daily but does not detract from the sanctity of their marriage. Rather, it enhances it.”
“Is that true?” Agent Donaldson asked Trevon.
“Absolutely. Devra has never been unfaithful and our marriage is no sham. We love and support each other, including in our joint pursuit of Quinn.” Trevon leaned forward then and laid everything on the table, his heart included. “If you take Devra from me…from us…it will destroy us. We are upholding the spirit of the law by living—and loving—together, working to build a better life for the three of us in this country we love.”
The agent made a few notes on the inside of the folder. He stood, tucking it beneath his arm. “I’m going to have to review this case with my boss, who is currently out to lunch. Until we can make a decision, I’d like to ask that Mrs. Russell come with me to a holding area. The rest of you may g
o.”
“We’re not leaving her here in some glorified jail cell.” Quinn stood, planting his hands on the table. “She’s not a criminal or an animal. She hasn’t done anything wrong!”
Mr. Ribold stood, too, telling Quinn to calm down and take his seat, which did no good whatsoever.
“That’s not your decision to make, Mr. Daily.” The man tipped his chin up as if he enjoyed wielding what power he had over people he considered lesser-thans.
“You’re tearing lives apart!” Trevon held his hands out, palms up. “Can’t you see that?”
“I’m doing my job. Following the rules, as you should have.” Agent Donaldson tucked the folder closer to his chest. “The evidence in this case is straightforward.”
Devra could see his mind was already made up.
She was leaving.
Forever.
She got to her feet, too, tugging on Quinn’s arm until he turned toward her and clutched her to him as if she was a life ring and he was drowning. Trevon did the same from behind her.
“I don’t want our last moments together to be ugly ones,” Devra whispered.
While the guys were trying to comfort her, Devra was doing the same for her men.
She turned and dragged Trevon down for one, sweet, lingering kiss and a few whispered words. From him, promising she would be okay and they would sort things out. From her, telling him that he’d already given her a lifetime of happiness rolled into the short time they’d shared.
Then she turned to Quinn and did the same. She told him how much he’d impacted her life for the better and that she’d never forget what he’d done for them.
It wasn’t nearly long enough to express to her two lovers everything she had in her heart, but it was all the time she would get to try.
“Mrs. Russell, this way, please.” Agent Donaldson stood by the door and held his hand out, indicating she should walk deeper into the belly of the building, away from freedom.
She couldn’t help looking over her shoulder a hundred times at Quinn and Trevon, who were standing in the hallway, defeated, shoulders slumped, watching her go.
