by Mari Carr
That was when they heard Curtis’s phone ringing in Denise’s office. The door had been closed when they’d arrived and Denise hadn’t bothered to open it. When they entered the room, they discovered Curtis lying on Denise’s cot, a pool of blood beneath him.
Mercifully, the man was still alive, but barely. No one was exactly sure how much time had passed between the shooting and Denise finding him, but he’d lost a lot of blood.
The ambulance had already left for the hospital, and Gunner said Denise was chomping at the bit to follow. Unfortunately, the lab director and the Boston City Police department had lots of questions for her.
Price paused at the doorway of Denise’s lab. She was sitting in a chair, her shoulders slouched, her face pale. He longed to take her in his arms, to hold and console her, but to do so would expose them to too much gossip and supposition. They’d agreed that Gunner would be her boyfriend, Price a benevolent, eccentric friend.
“Deni.” Gunner knelt beside her, taking her hand. “Price is here.”
Denise looked over and, for a moment, he feared she’d forget her role as her eyes lit up. Gunner must have shared his concern because Price noticed how the other man tightened his grip.
Denise gave him a friendly smile. “It was, um, nice of you to come over.”
Price winked covertly and then turned to the police officer questioning her. “I’m Price Bennett,” he said, offering his hand to the man.
Then he shook the lab director’s hand. The man’s eyes widened with recognition and a bit of awe. Price came from one of the oldest families in Boston. The Bennett name was well known in the area as several public buildings were named in honor of various members of his ancestry, including a dorm on campus. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett. Your family’s reputation precedes you, as they’ve provided countless support to our school and facility. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” Even if the man wondered why Price was there, he had the good grace not to ask. “I need to talk to the security guard on duty last night, make sure he hasn’t gone home yet. The police want to question him next. Please excuse me.”
Price turned back to the police officer after the lab director left. “Lieutenant Miller?” he asked, glancing at the man’s badge.
“That’s right. Miller.”
While Price didn’t want to insult the man, he needed to know the police department could handle this case competently. “I assume you’ve requested the security surveillance videos? Issued an order to search for the weapon?”
The officer nodded and gestured to Gunner. “He did all that before we arrived.” The man’s tone let him know he wasn’t happy to have to deal with the FBI…and now the CEO of Bennett Securities.
“Very good.”
Gunner rose, releasing Denise’s hand. “I can tell you now that I suspect the police will find precious little on those videos. There aren’t any cameras connected to this corridor and none pointing toward two side entrances. Only the front door is covered.”
“Shit,” Price muttered.
Gunner raised his hand. “However, the side doors are locked. People can only enter those with a fob, and that information is logged into a computer. I’ve requested a list of people who used their fobs yesterday and this morning.”
“You still don’t have any idea when the shooting actually occurred?” Price asked.
Gunner shook his head. “The nearest the EMT could guess was somewhere after two a.m. Maybe the doctors at the hospital can give us a better estimate.”
Denise looked at him, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. “The EMT said if we hadn’t found him when we did, he would have died from blood loss.”
Price couldn’t stand it anymore. Trinity Masters be damned. He walked over and helped her stand, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, Denise.”
Lieutenant Miller cleared his throat. “Agent Wells said that Dr. Parker’s apartment was broken into a few nights ago?”
Price released Denise but kept his hand on her back, offering her support. “That’s right.”
“And there was a bomb recovered from the scene?”
Denise sighed. “I’ve already told you all this. Can I please go to the hospital?”
The police officer looked from Gunner to Price. Price could read the confusion and frustration in his eyes. Obviously he was struggling to figure out the group dynamics of the three people in the room and he suspected they knew more than they were saying.
“If you discover you have any more questions for Denise, you can reach her at my place.” Price handed the man his business card.
“So, what are you?” Lieutenant Miller asked. “Her bodyguard?”
Gunner nodded. “That’s exactly what he is. I hired him. Mr. Bennett has been kind enough to offer the use of his guesthouse to Deni and I until we find out who’s trying to harm her. Now if you’ll excuse us.”
Gunner wrapped his arm about Denise’s waist, holding her close enough to leave no doubt of his romantic relationship with the pretty scientist. Price walked two steps ahead of them, assuming his role as bodyguard. Gunner had told the lie smoothly. Price appreciated his friend’s steady nerves.
Typically Price was better at shielding his emotions, but he’d been thrown for a loop ever since Denise’s sweet farewell kiss in the limo this morning. Though in all fairness, Gunner had had years to accept his feelings for Denise. They were still too new, too unexpected for Price.
Price helped Denise into the car, followed Gunner in and then instructed Roman to take them to the hospital.
Denise turned to look out the window as the car started moving. Unwilling to keep up the distance between them, he moved closer, placing his arms around her shoulders.
Denise was still for several seconds and then she shifted, wrapping her arm around his waist as she pressed her head against his chest. “That bullet was meant for me.”
Price knew her words were true, but he couldn’t let her carry around that kind of guilt. “You don’t know that, Denise.”
She lifted her head, her face only inches from his. Misery was written in her eyes. “Yes, I do. Curtis never sleeps in the lab office, and everyone knows it. It would have been me on that cot, if…”
Her words drifted away. She didn’t have to finish. They all knew where she’d been. Why Curtis had been sleeping at the lab.
“He’s going to be okay, Deni.” Gunner shifted from the side couch, claiming the spot on her other side. He rested his hand on her knee. “You have to keep faith.”
“Why would someone want to kill me? Is what I’m doing really so bad? I just want to help people. Find a way for them to live without pain, without losing their memories or their minds.”
Gunner grasped her hand. “You’re not doing anything wrong. The only villain in this is the person tormenting you.”
“My dad had early onset Alzheimer’s. Did I ever tell you that?”
Gunner shook his head. “You’ve never mentioned your dad.”
“My parents had me later in life, both of them were thirty-eight when I was born. I don’t know if they intended to have any more kids, but when my dad was forty, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”
“I didn’t realize someone so young could get Alzheimer’s.” Price hated the desolate look in Denise’s eyes.
“It’s rare, but it happens. My dad fought it for a few years, but it got bad. He couldn’t remember who I was most days, but every now and then, there would be this moment of clarity. And it was good. We’d talk and it was nice.”
Price started doing the math. Denise couldn’t have been more than six years old. How much had watching her father’s suffering impacted her, driven her decisions in life? Given her present profession, her non-stop working and determination to succeed, he’d say those early years had changed everything for her.
“What happened to your dad, Deni?”
Denise didn’t look at Gunner—or at him—as she responded. Instead, she gazed straight ahead. “Dur
ing one of his lucid periods, he killed himself. He always said he didn’t want to be a bother to my mother, didn’t want me to remember him as some lost soul. So he ended it.”
Price felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“Jesus.” Gunner’s muttered comment mirrored Price’s thoughts.
“It’s okay,” she said after a few moments. “I’ve made my peace with it. I really have. He wanted to die with dignity. That was his choice to make. I just want a world where no one else has to make that same decision.”
Price took her hand and squeezed it. Game over. He was in love with this woman and he would be until the day he died.
“We’re here,” Gunner said as they pulled up to the hospital. They spent several hours sitting in the emergency room waiting for Curtis to come out of surgery, then even longer as the staff delivered him to recovery.
Denise held herself together until the doctor assured them Curtis was out of danger. Then she fell apart, crying tears of relief as Gunner held her.
They walked to Curtis’s room together, allowing Denise to introduce them. She called Gunner her boyfriend and explained Price was a friend. Curtis accepted the news that she had a boyfriend with wide eyes and a loud hoot. Price instantly liked the research assistant.
When Gunner asked if he had seen his shooter. Curtis shook his head. He said that one minute he felt a sharp pain, the next he was waking up in this room.
Gunner and Price said their goodbyes and then stood outside the door of Curtis’s hospital room while Denise visited a little longer.
After ten minutes, she emerged. “He’s asleep.”
Gunner took her hand as they returned to the limo. It was early evening. The sun was just dipping below the horizon, painting the sky a muted orange. Price’s house was on the outskirts of the city and the ride there was spent in quiet contemplation. None of them broke the silence, all of them lost in their own thoughts.
It had been a long, stressful day, and all Price could think about was getting something to eat and settling down in front of the fireplace to relax with Gunner and Denise. He’d called ahead to let his cook know when they would arrive. After the meal, he’d send the servants to their living quarters. He wanted to show Gunner and Denise around their new home without the presence of others.
When they drove through the gated entrance, Denise gasped quietly as Gunner muttered, “holy fuck.”
He’d grown up in the large mansion in Watertown, but even Price could appreciate the majesty of it. He hoped they wouldn’t find it too intimidating or overwhelming.
“You really live here?” Denise asked. “Alone?”
Price took her hand as they exited the limo and led her up the grand staircase to the front door. “I do. I moved out after graduation and spent a few years in an apartment in downtown Boston. When my parents passed away, it seemed wrong not to move back home.”
“It’s beautiful.” Denise’s eyes widened when they stepped into the elegant foyer. His butler and housekeeper were there to greet them.
“Good evening, Mr. Bennett. Beverly has dinner ready for you as requested. I’ll help Roman carry in the bags. Joyce has prepared the guest rooms in the left wing.
Price shook his head. “No, put their bags in the right wing, in the room next to mine.” The right wing had always been reserved for family only, the left used to accommodate out of town guests.
His butler, Patrick, nodded his head, hiding his surprise much better than Joyce, who began to eye Denise and Gunner with genuine curiosity.
Most of the servants in the house had worked for the Bennett family for decades. Price knew their loyalty was unwavering and his trust in them was absolute. While they might be able to hide their true association from the rest of the world, it would be impossible to do so at home.
Sometime soon, he would have to pull Joyce and Patrick aside, explain that he would be living in a ménage relationship and make sure they understood the importance of their silence.
He wasn’t looking forward to that awkward conversation.
Price led them to the dining room and they took their seats at one end of the long tiger-wood table. The silence from the limo drifted to the house, making dinner a tense affair. Price missed the casual conversations that had taken place around the tiny table in the hotel. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Price pushed away the coconut-crème pie his cook had made for dessert. “So what do you think of the place?”
Denise put down her fork, glancing around at the ornate dining room. He should have told the serving staff to set the meal up at the kitchen table. He only used this room when entertaining.
“I’m afraid to touch anything,” she confessed.
Gunner nodded. “It’s like living in a museum.”
Price had done a terrible job introducing them to his home. So far he’d shown them the front foyer and the dining room, both places he rarely inhabited.
“Come on. Time for you to see the rest of the house.”
He led them toward the back of the house, past all the public rooms. He’d show them the parlor and living room tomorrow. Tonight, they needed to see that despite the size of the mansion, it was truly a home.
They stepped into the family room and Denise released a long sigh of relief. He’d redecorated the room when he took over the house, making it a comfortable place where he could come home, kick off his shoes and recline in front of the TV for a few hours before bed.
“Now this is what I’m talking about.” Gunner dropped down in one of the recliners, tugging on the pulley until it slid back and the foot cushion rose. “Oh yeah. This is good.”
Price chuckled. “Glad you like my chair.”
Denise kicked off her shoes and sat down on the plush couch. “I love this room.”
“Good. Because I suspect this is where we’ll spend most of our evenings together. The kitchen is through there with a breakfast nook. That’s where I eat my meals when I’m not entertaining. My home office is through that door, but it’s large enough that I suspect we could set up two more desks, so each of us has our own workspace.”
“And we’ll sleep in the right wing?” Denise asked.
He nodded, wishing she didn’t still look quite so overwhelmed. “I haven’t been in the left wing in nearly three months. It’s shut up most of the time, only opened when someone comes to visit. I promise you, the family wing is just as homey and comfortable as this room. If you can forget about the extra, overdone, under-used rooms, I promise you this house is just as laidback as the next place. What’s mine is yours, and I’m hoping you’ll want to add your own stuff, your own touches. This is our home now. If you want it to be. If not…”
He wasn’t sure what else to say. He loved his home and he wanted them to stay. But if they weren’t comfortable moving in, he would pack up and follow where they led. He didn’t have a choice. Not because of his vow to the Trinity Masters, but because of the commitment he felt toward them.
“I like it here.” Denise lifted her feet beneath her and collapsed against the back of the couch. “It’s your home. I’m touched that you want to share it with us.”
He grinned. Leave it to Denise to know exactly the right thing to say. He joined her on the couch. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He reached out to touch her hair, and just like that the atmosphere in the room became charged, electric. Gunner didn’t move from the recliner, but Price could feel his eyes on them, watching as Price leaned closer to kiss her.
Price wasted no time advancing their play. He reached for Denise’s breasts, rubbing them through the material of her blouse and bra. She twisted on the couch until she faced him.
“Take off her shirt,” Gunner directed.
Price glanced over at the recliner. Gunner had lowered the footrest and leaned forward, but he didn’t come to join them.
“I want to watch you fuck our girl,” Gunner said as he reached for the button at his waistband, u
nfastening it before sliding down the zipper. Then he lifted his hips just enough to shove his pants and boxers to his knees. His cock stood erect, the head brushing against his stomach. Gunner gripped himself tightly, then lifted his head and gestured for Price to keep going.
Their lover was a voyeur. Price had never considered himself an exhibitionist, but knowing that Gunner was watching drove even more blood to his cock.
Price reached for Denise’s blouse. He started to unfasten the first button but then decided he didn’t have time for that. He ripped the material along the front, dragging it over her arms. Her bra quickly followed. Price laid her down on the couch, caging her beneath him as he roughly sucked first one and then the other nipple into his mouth. Denise gripped his hair with her fingers and he sensed she was torn between holding him to her and pushing him away. She was new to pleasurable pain. When she moaned, pulling him closer, he resisted the urge to pump a fist in the air. She would accept everything they dished out. During their time at the hotel they’d limited their sex play, keeping it as vanilla as a threesome could. He and Gunner took turns fucking her, teaching her how to suck their cocks.
Now, Price longed to expand on those lessons. He wanted to spank her, tie her up, blindfold her, fuck her ass. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to explore all the ways he wanted to take her.
“Get those fucking pants off her,” Gunner demanded.
Price heard Gunner’s quiet panting, could see his friend stroking his own cock as he watched them.
Price tackled the zipper on Denise’s slacks, stripping them and her panties away. Then he released himself from the confinement of his pants. He restrained a groan of relief as the pressure of the thick material on his cock was lifted. He quickly shed his shirt as well.
“Fuck her with your fingers. I want to hear her cry out, wanna watch her close those pretty blue eyes of hers when she comes.”
Price wanted the same thing. He dragged his fingers along her wet slit, toying with her clit. Denise lifted her hips when he pinched it.
“Oh, God,” she muttered, her head thrashing on the cushions. “Please.”
