Flustered, she ran her hand through her tangled hair again. “Why does this matter to you? You've never given a damn about any of the other men I've brought home and slept with."
Too late she realised what she'd admitted.
Trinity pounced on Recee's stumble like a dog on a meaty bone. “I knew it. So there is a man and you're hiding him for some reason. Why? Is he ugly? Deformed? Sexually deviant? Nah.” She dismissed the last accusation with a wave of her hand. “If your man were into monkeys, tomato sauce and bandanas you'd just brag. So there must be another reason to keep him under wraps. I have a cousin Paisley that dated a carnie. Is he a carnie? We can deal with it."
"I'm not hiding anything,” she mumbled. From out of nowhere, exhaustion weighed her down.
"The reason I'm asking about this guy is because you had sex with him. The others were only distractions, so mystery guy actually means something."
The fight drained out of Recee. She slid to the floor, bent her knees and rested her head on them. “Please, don't do this."
"Oh honey.” Trinity sat beside her and put her arm around Recee's bent shoulders. “I'm not trying to hurt you, but you have no idea how long we've waited for this."
Without lifting her head she asked, “Waited for what?"
Gentle fingers smoothed the hair out of her face. Recee turned her head to look at her friend. The serious gleam in the blonde's green eyes did not bode well. They'd been thrown out of New Mexico after one of those looks from Trinity.
"Honey, I love you. Hell, you've been there for me and the rest of the girls no matter what else was going on in your life. You are one of the most generous, selfless people I've ever known. No one else but the four of us ever get to see that side of you. When Ethan, Brock, Carter then Hunt came into our lives you pulled a typical Recee and threatened their ability to reproduce if they hurt your friends."
Embarrassed, Recee ducked and pressed her forehead back to her knees. “It's not a big deal. Besides Hunt already knew what he was getting into. The idiot has been hanging out with us since he met Olivia."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about.” Trinity sucked in a long slow breath then let it out just as measured. “You keep this hard shell around your softer side and no one but your friends is allowed inside. Honey, I know what losing your sister did to you and I understand the psychotic unit that made up your parents."
"But..."
The arm around her shoulder tightened. “But...but you keep this up and they'll still be running your life until you die a bitter, lonely, old, cranky woman. You're letting them win. I can't stand by and watch you give up this chance for possible happiness because you're too stubborn to let your past go."
"It's not as easy as that.” She managed a broken reply, shoving any mention of her parents into the black hole in her mind.
"Babe, if it was easy you would have kicked this ghost's ass years ago. Can you at least accept the possibility that there are a few demons you haven't managed to scare off?"
Once more Recee turned to look at her friend, wondering where all this wisdom came from. “How long has this been on your mind?"
Trinity shook her head, blonde hair glinting in the overhead light. “Not just me, babe, but all of us. Once we knew the story behind your freaky knife fetish Emma, Olivia, Briley and I all knew you had some serious history to overcome. We've been waiting until we thought you might be ready."
Pain pounded in her temples as Recee tried to focus. “And for some strange reason you think I'm ready? What, is the moon full, the planets aligned or Venus ate Mars?” The soothing strokes up and down her back made Recee's lids flutter. “Stop or I'll fall asleep on you. Just think, all this fabulous wisdom and advice would go to waste."
"Maybe you need to sleep, it might be the best thing for you."
"Shit, sleep never solved anything and only cowards run away from their problems.” The quote was automatic, the result of defences worn down.
"Nothing but bullshit, my friend, so don't even go there. Now let's get you upstairs and into bed. When you wake up the rest of the girls will be here and together there's nothing we can't conquer, destroy, maim, defeat, bury or buy."
A fog of sleepiness surrounded Recee as Trinity almost carried her to her bed. “I never take naps. They're for children, sick people and old people."
"I know, sweetheart, but right now you're acting like an old child sick in the head."
"Bitch,” Recee said, but the insult lacked heat and energy.
"Slut,” Trinity shot back easily as she tossed the deep emerald comforter off the huge bed. “Strip off the clothes then get some rest. Your life will be fixed and in order by the time you wake up."
Trusting Trinity as she did very few people, Recee gave in, stripped off her clothes and crawled between her soft sheets after changing into a pair of cotton boy shorts. “Thanks, Trin."
A brush of lips against her forehead almost made her smile. “For you...anytime, Reece. Notice I'm not saying a word about the lingerie? We'll discuss it tomorrow. Get some sleep, babe."
The mattress shifted as Trinity got up. Even beneath the darkness of her lids Recee sensed darkness closing in as Trin closed the shutters one by one.
* * * *
"It's Garen,” Trinity announced to her friends once they showed up at Recee's house.
Silence met her unexpected declaration. Somehow she'd expected more fireworks and fewer chirping crickets.
"Did you hear me?” Hands on hips she faced all but one of the sisters of her heart. “Garen Swifthorse is boinking or was boinking our friend."
Olivia, Briley and Emma shared a look. Unspoken communication flowed between them before Briley drained her wine and sat forward. “Trin, it's not that we doubt your word. Hell, I'd believe you before Carter most days.” She winked. “But don't tell him that. I'm working on it. Anyway, I know you thought you saw Garen's truck here Saturday night."
"She did see his truck,” Emma spoke up. “Remember Garen told Brock about the fight and that frog-lover Thomas trying run our girl over."
"Dipshit always underestimated Recee, not to mention the flood of interesting and illegal characters in her family history.” Olivia refilled everyone's drink with the chocolate wine, her current addiction.
"Wait.” Trinity held up her hand, palm out. “You're telling me Brock's already questioned Garen about this?"
Olivia lifted a perfectly arched dark brow in that faintly superior way of hers. “You don't think we were just sitting around waiting for you to get answers, do you?"
"Well, yeah.” Of course she had. The answers would come or they wouldn't.
"Forgive me for sending in the big guns. We all agreed years ago that to get Recee over her past we'd do anything, use anyone and go anywhere,” Olivia said.
Trinity didn't need her memory nudged. The nightmares Recee suffered weren't something Trin would ever be able to forget. So yeah, the past continued to treat Recee like its bitch and she, as well as the rest of Recee's friends, were tired of watching it.
"More important, you think Recee is ready to banish those sorry, frog-loving, ball- licking, devil-possessed piece-of-shit excuse for parents?” Briley asked. Her extensive and creative vocabulary had grown since her fiance Carter had come into her life.
"Yeah, I think it's time. She allowed Garen in here, not just in her home, but in her bed as well. We all know Recee doesn't sleep around, much less have sex no matter what trashy images she tries to force down our throats.” Trinity mused aloud.
"The girl is locked up tighter than a Baptist in a whorehouse.” Again, Briley's opinion.
"Thanks, Bri, we all needed that imagery. Moving on, so while the world at large thinks Recee's bed sees more action than a Vegas penny slot machine, we know better. The girl is more choosy about her bed partners than Olivia is with her precious shoes."
"Hey.” The shoe addict looked affronted before she shrugged her silk-clad shoulders in resignation. “You're right. The shoe diva accept
s the ruling. Proceed."
"I think Garen's the one and I think she's already half in love with him.” Trinity knew deep in her gut she was right. No other rationalisation explained her dark-haired friend's distracted, moody behaviour.
"What are we basing this on?” Emma sipped her wine, her brow wrinkled as she tapped her fingers against the cut crystal.
Unable to remain still, Trinity jumped to her feet and paced the length of the living room. The worn carpet muffled her steps. “I'm basing it on the actions of my friend over the past few days, not to mention the fact that said friend had sex for the first time since I've known her. I'm basing it on the fact that Garen was here when she might have needed protection. I'm also basing it on the fact that Garen started asking questions about our girl. He wanted to know if and who she was dating. Asked a lot of personal questions for a guy merely interested in getting some."
Briley rubbed her face before clearing her throat. “I forgot Carter mentioned something about that too. He said Garen watched her the way—"
"The way what?” Trinity needing to hear the words even when her gut told her everything she wanted to know.
The blonde looked everywhere but at her friends as she swallowed half her glass of wine. When the glass was empty, Briley scratched her nape, then dropped her hands to her lap. “Carter said Garen looked at Recee the same way he looks at me when I'm not aware. Like he can't believe I'm real and that I exist in the same world he does."
"Awww,” three saccharine voices exclaimed at the same time.
Briley jerked her shoulder. “Shut it, all three of you, before I start in on the sappy crap you and your boy toys have done."
"Guilty.” Emma laughed and raised her hand in the air.
"Happily and well satisfied guilty,” Olivia lifted her hand while a smug smile curved her lips.
Trinity crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “That goes without saying.” She topped her statement off with a loud, long satisfied sigh ‘cause damn, did her man keep her happy and sated.
"Then we know Garen's in as deep as Recee. The only problem is Recee's past and Garen's fear of commitment.” Olivia broke into the mush fest with a large dose of reality.
"What makes you think Garen has a fear of commitment?” Emma asked, sitting back on the couch, tanned legs crossing at the knee as she gave Olivia her complete focus.
Olivia shrugged. “Isn't every man plagued with commitment phobia? I mean if he was ever interested in a relationship for the long haul wouldn't he be in one?"
Emma cocked her head, rolled her eyes, opened her mouth to say something, then shut it before speaking. Two deep slow breaths later she managed to say, “First off, Garen is not afraid of commitment. He gave almost twenty years of his life to the US military. When that man finds something or someone to believe in Garen Swifthorse will do everything up to and including death to ensure he keeps his word. If Recee is what he wants then I bet my next royalty cheque he'll be exactly what she needs to let go of all the crap in her past. He doesn't flinch when faced with the worst. He's loyal, steadfast and strong enough to let Recee be who she is without trying to change her or take her over. The only problem the two of them will have is staying in the same room long enough to admit their feelings to each other."
Silence covered the room as each woman thought over the information shared.
Then Olivia snapped her fingers, snagging everyone's attention. “I've got it. What worked on Emma and Brock will work for Garen and Recee except we need a place that's Marine-proof."
"You want to lock them in Brock's cabin?” Emma tilted her head to the side and bit her lip.
Olivia shifted her attention from refilling her glass to Emma. “Of course not. Or not that exactly.” She pursed her mouth. “I mean we need a place with only one or two points of entry or exit. Preferably no windows, but also with plumbing, lights and all that necessary stuff."
"I see what you mean.” Briley nodded before pulling out her iPhone and tapping her finger against the screen. “Maybe there's a place we can rent. Hell I'll buy whatever, if it gives Recee a chance to fight her ghosts once and for all."
Trinity watched Emma reach over and squeeze Briley's shoulder while Olivia slung her arm around Emma's neck. Tears welled, but Trin refused to let them fall. Later in the safety of Hunt's arms she'd allow her emotions free reign, especially the overwhelming gratitude her four amazing friends filled her with.
"Wait.” Briley dropped the phone to her lap. “I can't believe I didn't think of this first."
"What?"
"You thought of a building?"
Trinity waited for the others to finish.
Briley's big brown eyes glowed. “I know the perfect place. Marine or not, Garen won't escape without bringing down the building on top of him."
"So we've got the building. Now all we need is to find a way to get both of them there preferably unconscious and naked,” Olivia pointed out in her reasonable tone.
"Drug them,” Emma said, sounding matter-of-fact.
"Jeez, sometimes I forget what a devious mind that sweet face hides.” Olivia scooted away from Emma. “You could be a serial killer for all we know. Until we stumble across the bodies or discover your wacky human-skin-bound journal detailing all your sick plots, we'll never know."
"Did you have pets as a kid? Did any of them manage to live to old age? Did they die of old age or accidents or general fear of their lives?” Briley asked in rapid-fire succession.
Most people would be offended, angered or at least miffed. Emma, in her twisted writer's mind, apparently took the serial killer accusation as a compliment. “As if I'd leave bodies. Might I remind you freaks that I faint at the sight of blood, so no journal, sick or not, covered in human skin. But thank you for thinking I'd have what it takes. It's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me."
The other three shook their heads in amazement. Trinity finally verbalised what the other two were probably thinking. “Only you would think being accused of being a serial killer is a compliment. What does that say about you?"
Head cocked, Emma lifted her chin in a snooty manner. “What does it say about the three of you that we're all friends when I could be out killing people in my spare time?"
"We all need a hobby,” Briley admitted and the rest of the group nodded.
"But until then let's take care of our girl. She's made sure the four of us are happy and in love so that's the least we can do for her.” Trinity stood and stretched out her hand.
Emma, Olivia and Briley locked hands with her. “For Recee,” Trin said.
"For Recee,” they echoed.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seven
* * * *
The door shuddered under the punishing weight of Garen's body, but didn't break or even budge. Feeling disgusted with himself, his friends and the whole situation, he turned away from the door that wouldn't bend and tromped down the stairs.
When he got out of this Brock would be in some serious trouble along with his little helpers from hell, namely Carter, Ethan and Hunt. What possessed the four brain-dead musketeers to trap him alone in this love-shack-style basement with the one woman he couldn't keep his hands or mind off?
The bane of his existence slept undisturbed throughout his door pounding and shouting. Curled up, looking like a rosy-cheeked child, Recee had one arm tucked beneath her head while the other clutched a pillow to her chest. Thick dark curls obscured her face, but the steady rise and fall of her exceptional chest ensured her continued wellbeing.
Another possible blessing, if he were counting those, would be the fact that they were still in the country, still in Avalon. Food and water were both in abundant supply. The kitchen fridge overflowed with sandwich meat, veggies and fruit along with juice, coffee creamer and case after case of Diet Coke. A snug bathroom contained a shower, toilet and sink, but no window for possible escape.
No television, but a nice docking station complete with iPod sat on
a table across from the bed. And shit, what a bed. Garen could very well believe he'd been transported into another world, for only in his dreams had he imagined such an offering to the gods of decadence. Solid oak with four posts, each the width of his calf, met with a lacy canopy embroidered with entwined leaves and winged elves making love in various and imaginative positions.
Sweat dripped down his forehead the one and only time he took a good look at the unusual design.
The damn fools had thought of everything. Well, everything but one. However, until he could find out what he was doing down here, Garen kept that option in his pocket. The ‘in cases of emergency or fire get out of jail free’ card emergency.
When asked about Recee's condition, Trinity's cheery voice via intercom informed him that her friend was drugged, but should wake in the next few hours. The angry roar he emitted following her statement pretty much summed up his opinion on the matter.
"What kind of people drug and kidnap their friends?” He wondered then stopped. Of course normal people didn't do this kind of thing, but nothing about the Club B women was normal.
Memories of Brock grabbing Emma and hiding out in his cabin in the middle of the woods came to mind. Also Recee had been the one to drug Trinity's drink so Hunt could whisk her off to a tropical island get-away. Maybe he should be grateful his buddies hadn't knocked him over the head with some random hard object and thrown his unconscious body down the steps.
If he'd had an inkling of what had been planned for him, Garen would have fought tooth and nail before getting trapped down here. Unfortunately he had no gift of foresight, so when Carter called to ask if he could lend some muscle to a moving project Garen had agreed with no hesitation. But as soon as he'd passed the doorway, the door had swung shut behind him and stayed shut ever since.
Only the intercom recently installed, thanks to the traitor Carter, allowed communication from his basement prison to the outside world or upstairs to the main floor.
Briley's soon-to-be husband fell all over himself apologising for locking him up, but no amount of physical threats changed Carter's position on unlocking the door. When Garen finally calmed down enough to listen, Carter explained the reasons behind his false imprisonment.
Romancing Recee Page 8
