Dirty Princes: A Standalone MMF Romantic Comedy

by Jo Raven

  “She’s at the Meriter, from what I understand, you know, the hospital, and she—”

  I stumble out blindly, and lean against the wall for a long moment. I can’t breathe. Fuck, I can’t. Something happened to her. And here I was all this time, worried about something happening to me.

  I really am a selfish bastard.

  I walk into my office in a daze, grab my wallet and car keys, and walk back out, not even letting anyone know I’m leaving work.

  It’s not until I’m striding toward my car through freezing wind and sleet that I realize I didn’t even think to grab my jacket—and I don’t stop or go back. I can barely feel the cold anyway, adrenaline pumping through my veins, making my heart boom.

  Dripping, rainwater running down my face, I enter my car and drive toward the hospital. I’m gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles are white. I know the way, so my thoughts wander—to Brylee, to Riddick, to the way I treated them.

  Just… please let her be okay.

  ***

  God, I hate hospitals. I fucking hate them.

  Familiar parking lot, familiar entrance, familiar motions as I park and tear out of my car, taking the steps two at a time.

  Nurse Ellen at the reception desk opens her mouth to greet me and stops, eyes going round.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, and gestures at me.

  I glance down at my soaked suit. “Yeah. Listen… I’m looking for Brylee.”

  “Brylee?”

  Fuck, what’s her family name? Did I ever ask her?

  I grip the edge of the counter, my heart doing that trip and gallop thing again. “I just… need to know.”

  “Are you talking about Brylee Steele? Pretty girl, freckles, ginger hair?”

  “Yes,” I croak. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah.” Nurse Ellen gives me a critical look. “She is, but you look like you should sit down. Do you have your pills?”

  I wave her concern away. I need to know how Brylee is. “Where is she?”

  She points down a corridor, and I start that way, the blood rushing in my ears, drowning out whatever else she might have said.

  Brylee Steele. Today of all days I had to find out her family name. Did I ever ask to know anything about her? What do I know about her, apart from the fact that she works in the same office as me and can’t bake to save her life?

  She’s funny. She’s nice.

  A sweet girl, Riddick said about her. Clever, pretty, sexy. Kind. He’s not egotistical like me. He can see beyond himself. Someone who’s battling the world to save his brother, who’s trying to protect Brylee.

  From me.

  Belatedly, I realize I’m heading toward the Children’s Ward.

  This can’t be right. I should have asked where exactly to find her. Was I supposed to take a turn somewhere?

  I don’t stop when I think my heart will give out, bursting through double doors, and more double doors, searching frantically for someone to ask.

  And I enter Disneyland.

  Disney-something, anyway. I vaguely recognize the theme of the posters on the walls, and I notice that the girls wear little crowns and the boys have plastic swords. Some of them are sitting on the two beds in the room, and others on chairs, legs dangling, while in their middle stand a crowned princess in a pink gown and Spiderman.

  What the hell?

  The music also sounds vaguely familiar, probably from some movie, and the children are trying to sing along, with some disturbing results.

  I glance around, looking for an adult to help me out, my vision going kind of funky and lopsided. I stop, try to draw some oxygen from the air. It’s not working all that well.

  There’s a door to my right, and I start toward it, needing to find Brylee, find out what happened to her.

  The room seems to tilt sideways. I slam my hand into the wall to stop the slide, and it crashes into something. Pain stings my hand and I hiss, disoriented.

  Quiet falls around me.

  Then a kid screams.

  I turn as if in a dream. The princess and Spiderman are running toward me, and for some strange reason I see Brylee and Riddick instead of them.

  How fucking weird.

  “Ryan!” The princess even has Brylee’s voice, and her eyes, although her mouth is painted in a scary neon pink. “Oh my God.”

  What?

  Spiderman grabs my wrist and lifts it. His mask has been pulled up, and he has Riddick’s gray eyes and soft mouth.

  Frowning, I look down at my hand. Blood is dripping from a jagged cut.

  “He smashed a picture frame.” She starts away from me. “I’m getting a nurse.”

  “Brylee?” I reach for her, snag her sleeve with my free hand, the other one still held tightly in Spiderman’s strong grip. “What the hell?”

  “No cussing in front of the children,” she chides me.

  “I thought you were… You’re okay.”

  She’s okay. She’s all right. She’s not dying. She’s not dead.

  Why can’t I catch my breath?

  She’s staring at me, and I open my mouth to explain, but the room hasn’t stopped tilting, and it’s sliding away from me. Dark spots are dancing in my eyes.

  My knees give away, black rushes in, and this time I go down.

  The last thing I hear is a heartfelt “Fuck!” and I don’t think it came from me. So much for not cussing in front of the children.

  ***

  I blink, my vision blurry, and find myself sprawled in the lap of a guy, if the strong, muscular arms around me are any indication.

  The details come back, more slowly than I’d like—the Disney party and music, the kids, and princess Brylee kneeling beside me.

  By my guessing, I’m lying in Spiderman’s lap. He was the only adult man in the room, and besides, the red and blue sleeves give him away.

  Go, me. Rescued by a superhero.

  “Hey,” I croak and start to sit up, only to be stopped by said muscular, Spidey arms. “I’m all right.”

  “You passed out,” Riddick says, his raspy voice rumbling behind my head.

  “Yeah, well, I passed back in now, so…”

  “You’re making no sense,” Princess Brylee tells me gently, looking concerned. “Rid, did he hit his head on the way down?”

  “Not that I’ve seen,” he replies.

  My heart seems to have slowed down, at last, and it beats a steady rhythm in my chest. I’m all right. I won’t need my pills.

  Guess I’ve overdone it lately. Stressed myself out, avoided the gym, drank too much. Fell in a well of depression. Never realized how much until now, nestled in Riddick’s arms with Brylee in front of me. Just being here, with them, calms my heartbeat even more, until I’m floating, my limbs loose and my eyelids heavy.

  “What happened, dude?” Riddick chuckles. “Can’t you stand the sight of a little blood?” And before I can think of how to clear up the misunderstanding without telling him the real reason I passed out, he says gently, “It’s okay. We’re all afraid of something or other.”

  If only he knew.

  “Besides, now we’re even,” he says. “You caught me the other day. Today I caught you.”

  Not sure how I feel about that. Not because I want him to feel like he owes me. But because he never did. I’d do anything to protect him, to save him.

  Or Brylee. Two red splotches mark her pale cheeks, the freckles on her nose standing out even through the thick makeup she’s wearing.

  “You’re okay,” I tell her again, and reach up to touch her cheek.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “At the office, they told me you were at the hospital. I thought…” I swallow hard at the memory of that stabbing fear. “Never mind. What are you doing here?”

  “It’s a party for the kids,” she whispers, stroking my cheekbone. “I convinced Riddick to help out.”

  “Caught me in a weak moment.” He sounds amused.

  Right. Hence the Disney theme, the princess, the Spid
erman costume.

  That’s okay. I don’t regret it. I’d have torn through the city again in a heartbeat if I thought she was hurt.

  “Why?” I ask, not sure why I’m asking. Why wouldn’t she do this? Not everyone is as self-centered as I am.

  But she shivers.

  “I was very sick as a kid,” she says softly. “Cancer. My father left us. Too much trouble and expenses, I guess.” She shrugs, a small, sad gesture. “A lady used to come, read us stories. It made a world of difference in my life back then.”

  Cancer. Jesus Christ. “Bry…”

  “I’ve been perfectly healthy for the past ten years. Not a trace of the cancer. Looks like I beat it. Coming to give the kids here hope is the least I can do.”

  Bile rises in my throat, familiar panic.

  She’s fine, Ryan, I tell myself. She’s trusting you with this tidbit of her past. Old past. She was a kid. She’s a woman now.

  A woman I care about.

  So much kinder than I ever gave her credit for.

  “Thank fuck you’re all right,” I say with feeling, my voice shaky. “Now, and ten years ago, and always, Bry.”

  She smiles at me, and a wave of warmth washes through me.

  Everything’s fine, and I’m too tired to move, or think. Too comfortable on the bare, cold floor, as long as those arms are around me, and her hand rests on my face.

  It’s too easy to give in and consequences be damned. Too easy to let down my last defenses.

  So when she says, “Let us drive you home,” I say yes.

  ***

  Riddick is driving, and I’m worried about his back, but I don’t have yet the energy to ask questions. Brylee is riding shotgun, fiddling with the radio, her tiara sparkling.

  I’m in the backseat, buckled in and numb. I’m also still soaking wet, and I’m sporting a bandage around my hand, put there by a nurse who wasn’t very happy about fishing shards of glass out of my palm.

  Lifting my hand, I stare at the bandage. The pain is distant.

  Am I in shock? It could explain why I’m not freaking out yet. Why I’m sitting in Brylee’s car, my thoughts jammed and my heart tripping, but in a good way.

  Like a kid going to a carnival.

  I guess. Can’t remember ever going to a carnival, but I remember Christmas time with Mom. Like a kid on Christmas day, then. That’s how I feel.

  And it makes no fucking sense, because for all I know, Riddick will park on my street, and they will both wave goodbye as they drive away.

  I pushed them away. I pushed them together.

  I have no place in their lives.

  But they don’t. Wave goodbye and leave, that is. In fact, Riddick gets out and opens my door before I even unbuckle myself and hauls me out.

  I open my mouth to tell him he shouldn’t strain his back, but his arm slips around me, and Brylee appears on my other side, doing the same, and I let them pull me along in silence, like a warm tide.

  Riddick asks for my key, and I hand it over without a question. We enter the building, ride up to my floor, and he opens the door. We step inside, and Brylee closes the door behind us.

  It’s dim and warm inside my apartment. Brylee leaves my side to turn on a corner lamp, and the moment she’s back, I drag her close again.

  Can’t bear to let either of them go.

  What the fuck’s the matter with me?

  “Easy now,” Riddick says in my ear, and I shiver. “You should change. You’ll catch your death.”

  My death…

  They help me pull off my suit jacket, but I don’t have the energy to do more than that. “I’m not that wet,” I mutter.

  Wordlessly, Riddick rips my shirt off, leaving me in my white tank top, which is mostly dry.

  “Bed?” he asks.

  “Sofa.”

  So they drag me back to the living room. Their arms are grounding me, and I realize my legs are still unsteady as we lumber to the couch like a three-headed beast.

  Since I won’t let them go, we tumble in a heap on the soft leather cushions, Brylee squealing in my ear.

  It makes me laugh.

  I haven’t laughed in days. In… longer than that. Not since I last saw her.

  “Don’t go,” I whisper to her, to them both, hauling them against me. She’s rain and flowers, he’s a jungle’s dark scent. “Just… don’t.”

  I’m cracking wide open, broken down the fucking middle, unable to hide.

  “We’re not going,” Brylee says.

  Riddick’s strong arm tightens around me, though his reply makes no sense. “We can see the gold.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Banana Cream Pie

  Brylee

  Riddick can see it, too. How good Ryan is, deep inside.

  I knew it. He can see behind Ryan’s tough façade, too.

  In fact, the way they look at each other reminds me of my night-time fantasies with the two of them together. Does he feel something for Ryan?

  Come to think of it, does Ryan, for either of us?

  He came looking for me, and he was terrified something had happened to me. Soaked through with the rain, without a jacket, unsteady on his feet, he’d dropped everything to drive to the hospital.

  For me.

  And the way he’s holding on to both of us like he’s still afraid. Afraid we might vanish into smoke.

  It’s breaking my heart.

  Add to that how worried I am for him, with that fainting spell he had, how sad I am for him that his mom’s dead, and I’m gone.

  Hooked.

  Falling.

  He’s slumped back on the sofa, his arm around my shoulders, and Riddick’s around him. The way Riddick is holding him… it’s so tender. So touching. it makes me love him more. Love them both.

  How can I be in love with them both?

  No way, right? It’s just that I’m moved easily. By pain. By sorrow. By beauty hiding barbs and blood.

  And these boys sure are pretty. Pretty, and sexy, and so hurt inside, and… I don’t know what in the world I’m doing with them.

  My confidence is mostly a front. It’s something I work at. I make myself strong in the face of adversity. I force myself to keep going. It’s what saved me as a kid, and what has kept me on track every time something went wrong.

  When Dad abandoned us.

  When the doctors said I was going to die.

  When Mom broke down and came close to killing herself.

  When the money ran out, and there wasn’t enough for the treatment.

  I thought of the future and didn’t give up. I thought this was a case of the same. That determination would be enough, but I didn’t count on feelings.

  Didn’t count on these boys.

  I had a plan, true. I kept at it long after it fell through. I mean, where’s the manual on guys and how to choose the right one for you?

  And now…

  “You sure you’re okay?” Riddick asks, his hand on Ryan’s nape, fingers slipping into the short, silky hair there. “You scared us, man.”

  Ryan nods, green eyes hooded, ringed with black, his jaw still bruised from whatever fight it was he had a few days back. He looks exhausted. He has been working like a madman. Office rumor has it that he’s been working long after hours, and weekends.

  Could also explain why I barely saw him this past week. To be honest, I had hoped he’d seek me out, explain himself. I’d hoped, but couldn’t be sure I was right. About him. About the façade.

  Sometimes the façade is all there is. Sometimes what you see is what you get, like Riddick said.

  And I still don’t know for sure. I know I’m in love, but is that wise?

  Riddick’s fingers have moved to the top of Ryan’s head, petting the soft, pale strands. “You’re still too pale. I don’t like this. You should have let us tell the nurse what happened.”

  “It was nothing.” Ryan looks at me with those green-gold eyes, his hold on me tightening. “I’m so happy you’re okay, Bry.”
/>
  “You were scared,” Riddick mutters, as if just realizing.

  “Fuck yeah, I was scared.” Gruff. Raw. “People die in the hospitals. When they call you to go there, it’s too late. Too fucking late, Jesus…”

  Riddick growls, startling me, and hauls Ryan closer to him. Is he thinking what I’m thinking, that Ryan’s talking about the day his mom died?

  I wrap my other arm around Ryan’s hard middle and rest my cheek on his shoulder. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

  Falling for them both wasn’t my plan. My plan was to make Ryan see I’m the best wife for him and not let Riddick close.

  Instead here I am, cuddling both of them, my heart in my throat, my thoughts a mess. How do I untangle myself?

  And on the heels of that thought, comes another, more troubling one:

  Do I even want to?

  ***

  None of us seems interested in moving from the tangle of limbs we’re in. At some point, Riddick reaches over, grabs the remote from the low table and turns on the TV, turning the volume low, and we watch a program about fishing.

  I think it’s about fishing. I’m so lost in the feel of Ryan’s hard body pressed to mine, his heart beating under my hand, the sweeter scent at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and the way a few longer strands curl softly behind his ear that I can’t process anything else.

  Except Riddick. His big hand closes over mine, over Ryan’s chest. His presence is radiating heat and strength, and his gaze when our eyes meet briefly, is magnetic.

  He doesn’t seem confused anymore. Doesn’t seem conflicted.

  Unlike me. I’m so frigging confused.

  I need to talk to Candy. But she’ll probably tell me to keep them both. Which would be crazy. Given they both want to be with me, which isn’t a given at all.

  With me and each other, too? Am I supposed to pull a Candy?

  No. I should talk to Simone. She’ll put my head back on straight. If nothing else, she’ll punch me until my mind swings back into place.

  Or maybe I’m drunk. The boys’ spicy scent has sneakily invaded my senses, the heat of their bodies seeping into me.

  Man, I wish I was pressed between them.

  A boy sandwich.

  Oh God…

  Ryan’s head has dipped forward. His lashes rest on his cheeks, darker than his blond hair, and his mouth has gone slack. He’s asleep, and I feel that familiar twinge in my chest at how vulnerable he looks like this. How young and weary. How trusting and open.