by Nia Arthurs
He grinned up at her, glad that—despite the tension that had sprouted between them a moment ago—she anticipated and met his needs so well.
“Thank you.”
Breana nodded. “Are you hungry? I saw a vending machine in the corridor.”
“I heard they’re making jello for dessert,” Trenton said with a grimace. “I don’t do jello.”
“Got it. I’ll bring something high in sugar.”
She left, and Trenton watched her until the door closed completely. Only then did he fire up his phone and navigate to an online Belizean newspaper. In the headlines, he saw his face along with the mug shots of Miguel and his crew.
The article, clumsily titled ‘Shot for Love’, went on to describe his scuffle with the officers trying to keep him out of the rescue attempt. It also mentioned the bullet he took while protecting Breana with his body.
Trenton shook his head and called Jamison. His assistant answered on the second ring.
“Mrs. Lorde?”
“This is the other one,” Trenton said glibly. “What do these headlines mean for the company.”
“Sir, I told your wife specifically not to involve you with this until you were up to it.”
“I’m up to it,” Trenton said. “Stop beating around the bush, Jamison. How are the shareholders holding up in light of this?”
“It’s a little early to tell, but the news of you charging in to protect your wife is overshadowing the environmental protest.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Not exactly. There are murmurs that you’re the money behind the entire Mexican drug cartel, and that you arranged the showdown so that you could come out in a better light.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I agree, sir.”
“I wasn’t even aware that a protest was happening today. And why on earth would I put Breana in danger just to sway the public’s opinion?”
“I didn’t say the shareholders were thinking clearly, sir. We’re waiting for the dust to settle so that we can see where we stand, but I have confidence that the environmental protests won’t even make a blip in the news. People would much rather focus on the romance. You did well.”
“Thanks?”
“There’s… one more thing.”
“Why did you say it like that, Jamison? You’re making me nervous.”
“You have no reason to be nervous, sir. And I always talk this way.”
“Spit it out.”
“Do you remember the caller that contacted you through the hotel in Cayo? The one who was rather perturbed about her,” Jamison coughed, “missing bathing suit?”
Trenton winced. “What about her?”
“She heard the news and she’s, apparently, very worried about you. She called to find out more of your condition and when I refused to offer more information—”
“Don’t say it.”
“She yelled that she would find out on her own.”
“Don’t tell me, Jamison…”
“I would be prepared for a visit. Very soon.”
Trenton groaned and covered his face with his hands. Maybe taking a bullet for Breana would give him a pass once, but he doubted it would stretch to cover a visit from Sheila herself.
What would he do now?
Chapter 3
₪₪₪₪₪₪
Breana saw the stunning woman in the corner of her eye. Flowing brown hair that curled to slim shoulders, olive-colored skin, and obviously expensive clothes made up an appearance that was effortlessly high class.
Breana could only dream of emulating such confidence and thus her eyes followed the woman as she turned heads all the way down the hallway. Finally, she came to a stop in front of the nurse’s station.
“Excuse me,” the woman said, planting her manicured fingers on her waist. “Is there a Trenton Lorde here?”
Her curiosity piqued, Breana clutched the biscuit package in the crook of her elbow and shuffled to the woman’s side. As she drew closer, the woman leaned back and eyed her with mistrust.
“Are you looking for Trenton?”
“Yes,” the woman said, frowning at her.
“Mrs. Lorde,” the nurse stood and glanced over at the stranger, “we were instructed not to give out your husband’s information.”
“Mrs. Lorde?” The woman scoffed. She returned her attention to Breana and gave her a slow head-to-toe appraisal.
Squirming beneath her gaze, but too proud to act as if she cared, Breana lifted her head and stared right back.
Finally, the stranger laughed. “You can’t be serious. This is Trenton Lorde’s wife? Is that why he didn’t want me? Is something wrong with him?”
The biscuit package slipped from her hands when she heard those words. Peering closely at the woman, she stepped forward again. “Is… is your name Sheila, by chance?”
The woman arched an eyebrow. “How did you know that?”
Breana shook her head. What were the odds that the woman her husband had entertained in Cayo was looking for him now? How far did Trenton’s relationship with Sheila go? Had he been seeing her on the side all the while?
“Should I ask that they escort her out?” the nurse asked timidly.
Sheila’s jaw dropped. “Do you know who I am? How dare you suggest removing me from this building? I should—”
“He’s in the Recovery Unit. Room 105.”
Both Sheila and the nurse looked at Breana with raised eyebrows and drooping jaws. Sheila was the first to recover. Her eyelashes fluttered as she played with the collar of her blouse.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Then why…?”
“From the fact that you came down here, there’s obviously something that needs to be clarified. I’d do it, but I think it would be best if Trenton ended it himself.” Breana stooped down to pick up the fallen snack.
She heard two resolute clop, clops before a pair of manicured feet in expensive leather sandals appeared beneath her nose. She glanced up and saw Sheila towering over her.
Getting to her feet so that the other woman didn’t have such a height advantage, Breana folded her arms across her chest and waited for Sheila to speak.
“You must hate me,” she said prissily.
Breana arched an eyebrow. “My husband sent you packing. Aren’t you the one who hates me?”
Sheila sputtered and fisted her hands at her sides. Coming closer to Breana, she lowered her voice. “Don’t delude yourself. It took a while before he changed his mind and cried for you.”
Breana’s temper flared and her ‘thug side’ (as Trenton called it) threatened to overtake her body. She longed to show Sheila just what a mistake she’d made by playing with a married man.
Instead, she put a lid on her composure and smiled. After being on the other end of a gun just a few hours before, Breana would prefer not to get involved with any more violence today.
“Whatever you’re looking for, Sheila, you won’t find it by seducing taken men and wrecking families.” She gestured to the hallway. “I’m sure Trenton will enjoy seeing you.”
“You smug little—” Sheila grabbed a handful of Breana’s shirt. The nurse covered her mouth and gasped while the security guards took note of the two women standing in a tense showdown.
“Let go.”
“I don’t know what cheap little ploy someone like you used to marry someone like Trenton Lorde,” Sheila hissed, “but you’re obviously not fulfilling his needs or he wouldn’t have looked twice at me. Maybe think about that before you go around acting like you know a thing about me.”
Breana huffed and threw Sheila’s arm off. Glancing around the room, she realized that everyone was waiting for her to react. In her periphery, she saw the security guard eyeing her while slowly placing his hand on his baton.
Of course, the black girl from the wrong side of the city was the one who was feared, who the lawmen anticipated, who drew all the suspicion. Breana’s anger ne
arly bubbled from her ears, but she pushed her fury back.
She wouldn’t be walking into any stereotypes like familiar coats of shame today. No, today… she just wanted to be away from it all.
“Have a nice life, Sheila. I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again.”
Unable to stand the nicely dressed bag of scum for a moment longer, Breana strode past the security guard with his hand on the baton, past the nurses who gawked at her, and finally threw the door open.
The cool Caribbean breeze blew against her face. The sky lit up from within, highlighting shades of pink and red. The sun burned at the end of the horizon, straining to give as much as it could before night descended.
Breana strutted down the sidewalk, grateful that the reporters had scattered for the day. She had no idea where she was going or where she would end up, but it felt good to stretch her legs.
When at last her chest demanded that she take a break and her feet sent pain signals up and down her nerves, she sank onto the sidewalk and sighed.
In the chaos of Cady’s drug crisis and Trenton’s gunshot wound, she’d shoved thoughts of his unfaithfulness to the curb. When it counted, all she could think of was being by Trenton’s side, seeing him wake up, bringing him back to health and safety.
It was a testament to how much she cared, how much her heart would continue to care despite how hurt she was inside. But just because her strong feelings still existed, didn’t mean his betrayal had suddenly disappeared.
The effects lived on in her mistrust and in the memory of Sheila the Bimbo. Breana got mad just thinking about her and forced her mind to other things.
Her phone rang, and Breana saw that it was Trenton. She pressed the ‘IGNORE’ button and started shoving her phone into her pants. At the last second, she held out the device and looked for Ms. Jen’s number.
The social worker picked up on the third ring and greeted her. “I heard about what happened. It’s all over the news. Breana, are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“I can’t believe such a crazy thing would happen in the city! It’s like something out of a novel! And the way they said Trenton stormed in to cover your body with his and protect you from harm… oh!” Breana could hear the older woman swooning. “It’s simply breathtaking.”
“I’m glad you think so, but I actually didn’t call about that. How are my mom’s sessions coming along?”
“She’s being a lot more open than usual, though there was something bothering her this afternoon that she didn’t want to share with me.”
“Is she using?” Breana thundered, wondering if she’d missed the signs that afternoon. “Is it a new drug?”
“No, no,” Ms. Jen said. “It’s nothing like that. I asked about your birth father and she got very tense. It’s nothing to be worried about.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I was waiting for you to get in touch with me. It’s about that time for your mother’s enrollment in rehab. I’m ready to move if you are.”
Breana took a deep breath. “Ms. Jen, would it be possible for me to find a place in Guatemala and help Mom out for the first few months of her rehab?”
“What?” Ms. Jen laughed. “Why would you want to do that? Your husband is recovering from a gunshot wound. I’m sure the directors in Guatemala will understand if you just drop Merna off and—”
“I want to do it,” Breana blurted. “I want to stay in Guatemala.”
Ms. Jen was intensely quiet for a few beats and then she sighed. “How long are we talking here?”
“As many months as possible.”
“Breana…”
“Don’t ask any questions. Just find out for me. Please.”
“A-alright. Is there anything you’d like to talk about? Is something wrong?”
“I’m fine,” she said, forcing cheer into her tone. “And Ms. Jen?”
“Yes?”
“Could you keep this from my mother? I don’t want her to know just yet.”
“Of course, Breana.” She paused. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I hope so too.”
Breana ended the call and looked out into the dark sky. Night had fallen as she’d spoken on the phone and she hadn’t even noticed. Shaking her head, Breana picked herself up from the sidewalk and made her way home.
*** For more look out for Where Truth Lies in the Amazon store ***
