CHAPTER 28
Trista
I open the single steel door to the three-story building on E. Bridger Avenue. It's a unique building and I've seen it before but never knew what it was until now.
The Jameson Group.
To the brief glance and why it looks weird is that it appears to have no windows. White stucco square columns rise from the street to the roof on the third floor. In between, it looks like where windows could be placed, there is nothing but stucco walls. But as I approached, I saw they're glass windows that are somehow frosted so it's impossible to see inside. I wonder if they can see out from inside.
The steel door is a little intimidating. It has a classy, welcoming silver sign on the front proclaiming--The Jameson Group - International Security Services. The fact it's steel and the outside of the building looks like pure concrete, it gives the overall message of stay the hell out.
Still, I don't have time to be intimidated, so I step inside. I'm immediately stunned by the elegant lobby I find myself in. Cream marble flooring, dark paneled walls, and richly upholstered guest seating in a mocha-colored leather. I also note it's possible to see outside from the inside through the frosted-looking glass but it is hazy. There's no one in the lobby except a receptionist behind a curved desk who is looking at me with a light smile on her face. Not exactly welcoming but not exactly not.
"Can I help you?" she asks politely.
She's quite beautiful, and that doesn't surprise me. Jerico's staff at The Wicked Horse are phenomenally gorgeous, so why not here? She's wears her blonde hair in an asymmetrical bob that hangs just above her shoulders with bangs cut straight over her eyebrows. It's a severe cut, but her face is practically perfect so it can handle it.
"I'd like to see Jerico," I say as I walk up to the desk. I'm glad to note my voice sounds strong and confident, despite the fact I feel completely out of place. I should have dressed up or something because my white jeans and pink button-up blouse seem way too casual for this place.
"I'm sorry, but he's not available," she says with a mixture of apology and aloofness, but without her facial expression changing at all.
Botox! I knew it.
I'm not put off by her tone even though it clearly says, "You can't just walk in here and demand to see the owner of this company."
"I insist," I say firmly. "It's an emergency."
Her expression doesn't change at all. She just blinks those baby blues at me slowly. "As I said he's not available."
Leaning over, I place my hands on the edge of her desk. "Listen... I was just at The Wicked Horse and he's not there, so I'm pretty damn sure he's here. Just call him and tell him Trista is here to see him."
She just smirks at me without even having the decency to say a word.
I come dangerously close to losing my cool. It has not been a good day.
Hell, it has not been a good weekend. I spent Saturday alone in my room, feigning sick to my mom and Corinne, but really, I was so angry and hurt I could barely speak without vile curses flying from my mouth... or hysterical sobbing. I was a mess. A complete and utter mess to find out that Jerico was using me for some sick and twisted plot to strike out at my brother.
I hate your brother, he'd said.
I'll admit that had given me slight pause at first, because his voice was saturated with pain, not anger. For someone who hated Jayce enough to do what he did to me, it gave me more than slight pause. I knew there was something huge underlying that pain in his voice, and for a second, I even thought about staying to find out.
But then my pain roared to life as I realized all the intimacy we'd shared wasn't real. This slow burn we had that flamed hot in such a quick time, along with feelings that developed in such a natural way between us... it wasn't real at all, and that almost killed me.
Sunday morning, I woke with gritty eyes from crying and a hole in my heart that was felt more keenly since I'd expended some of my anger.
I hate your brother.
Gah... his voice. The pain. It made my ears almost bleed despite how destroyed I felt. How could I be so angry with someone, yet at the same time feel immensely for him?
I needed to know what happened, but I wasn't sure I really wanted to know. All day while making pancakes with Corinne and doing some outdoor gardening, it was on my mind. Finally, by midafternoon, I couldn't take it anymore and drove to see Jayce.
I was stunned when he opened the trailer door and glared at me with one eye swollen and a huge cut on his bottom lip. His jaw was twice its normal size on the left, and he was holding his hand over his rib cage.
"What happened to you?" I asked, but I knew without him needing to answer.
Jayce's voice was defeated. "Jerico is what happened. Now you need to get out of here. I'm under strict orders not to even look at you wrong."
"He did this to you?" I asked. Not because it made me angry or I felt sorry for Jayce, I just wanted to make sure it was Jerico and not someone else.
"Of course he did," Jayce snapped. "Now go."
He started to shut the door, but I called out, "I can't repay you the money."
"You don't need to," he muttered, still shutting the door.
My hand slapped out on it to stop the momentum. "What?"
"Jerico handled it," he said angrily. Why he was angry, I have no idea. He got his money.
But that was something I really didn't care about. I honestly was not put out at all by the fact I was losing the extra fifteen I owed to Jayce had I just stayed on a few more days and completed my contract. I had decided that Jayce could go fuck himself on that money. He was an asshole, and I wasn't afraid of him.
Something else interested me. "Why does Jerico hate you? You sent me into a lion's den to a man who had a vendetta against you, and I want to know what it was."
Jayce's eyes glittered with malice. He sort of leered at me as he hung onto the door for support. "Go ask him yourself. I'm sure he'd tell you all about it. You're his girl, right? I've got busted ribs and I'm pissing blood because you're his girl."
"I'm not his girl," I muttered.
I never was.
Jayce didn't care though. He slammed the door in my face, and I heard the lock snick.
And that, I'm sure, was the last time I'd ever see my brother.
Sunday night, I fretted. I couldn't sleep. A dozen times, I almost called Jerico to ask him to tell me the truth about everything. I needed someone to tell me the reason I was hurting so badly, yet I never dialed because I wasn't sure I could handle it.
Instead, I woke up Monday morning, my eyes still gritty from intermittent crying and my inability to sleep, and decided I had to have the answers.
Unfortunately, Jerico wasn't at The Wicked Horse. The few staff members I ran into were aloof when I walked in, but it didn't stop me from asking if Jerico was in. No one knew, so I went to his office and knocked.
No answer.
No answer from his apartment either.
That's when I decided to try The Jameson Group. It was the only other place I figured Jerico would be on a Monday morning.
"He's not here," the receptionist says smugly, and I blink my eyes to clear the haze of this weekend's memories.
My lungs deflate with disappointment that I'm not getting my answers or the opportunity to try to mend my broken heart with the true story behind why Jerico did this.
"Trista?"
I turn to see Kynan standing just inside the entrance, having clearly just walked in. "Kynan," I say distractedly, still immersed in the discontent welling within me. "Hey."
He looks good, but Kynan McGrath can't look bad in my opinion. And his eyes, which are always light with amusement and a free-spirited attitude, appraise me with a sympathetic warmth.
That means he knows what happened on Friday and probably has some answers.
"What are you doing here?" he asks causally as he walks toward me. From the corner of my eye, I see the receptionist lean forward to place her forearms on the desk, which I'm b
etting makes her deep cleavage deepen even further. Kynan doesn't spare her a glance.
I can't tell him in front of this woman why I'm here, so I go with what pops into my mind. "Jerico said I could have the receptionist job here, and I came to find out when I start."
"What?" the receptionist screeches as she sits up straight in the chair. I don't turn to look at her, keeping my eyes directed at Kynan. He smirks at me, knowing I did that on purpose, and then takes my elbow.
"Let's go discuss this in my office. You can tell me why you're really here," he says with amusement, and then he turns to the receptionist. "Hold all my calls."
"Kynan," she snaps at him, and I'm shocked by the temerity of her tone. "Is my job in jeopardy?"
He gives a nonchalant shrug. "That's Jerico's call, not mine."
"But... but..." she stammers.
"You can ask Jerico when he gets back," Kynan assures her as he starts leading me to another steel door that has a security keypad on it.
"But he's not going to be back for a few weeks," she calls out.
"A few weeks?" I come to a halt and turn to look at Kynan. "Where is he?"
"On a plane to the Congo," Kynan says smoothly as he punches in a code at the door.
After he opens it, he sweeps his arm toward the opening to indicate I should precede him, but I'm stunned and rooted to the floor. "The Congo?"
Kynan's hand goes to my lower back and he gives me a soft push forward. My legs move even though my head is spinning, and I let him direct me down a maze of halls that I really don't pay attention to until we come to a conference room that has a long table that probably seats around twenty. On the far end of the wall, there are six large monitors and I wonder what they're used for in this line of work.
Kynan closes the door before turning to me. Without any pretense or polite consideration, he says, "Now why don't you tell me why you're really here?"
"I'm here about the job," I say stubbornly.
"You're here about Jerico," he counters.
"Fine," I snap, the stress and pain causing me to be a bit cranky. "I want to know why he did what he did."
"And what exactly did he do?" Kynan asks as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the door.
"You know what he did," I tell him. "I saw the look on your face when you spotted me out in the lobby. You know."
Kynan shrugs. "You're hurt. I get it. But explain to me exactly what he did to cause that."
"He... he..." I stumble over my words, because Kynan is now making me doubt Jerico did anything nefarious at all by his laid-back attitude. But then I get my bearings and hiss at him. "He recorded us having sex. To show my brother."
"But he changed his mind," Kynan says smoothly.
I roll my eyes. "Just stop it. Don't try to defend him. You know the intent was wrong and deceitful--"
"And you're very hurt and pissed off," Kynan interjects. "You want answers."
The air in my lungs whooshes out, and I deflate. My eyes drop to the floor--gleaming maple hardwoods--and I whisper, "I want answers."
Next thing I know, Kynan has pushed off the door and pulls a rolling chair out from the table. "Sit. I'll tell you why he did it."
"You will?" I ask as my eyes snap to his.
He nods as I sit down, taking the seat beside me and turning so we face each other. "I'm telling you only because I know Jerico wanted you to know the entire story before he left, but he wanted to give you some space so you could calm down a bit."
"So he went to the Congo?" I ask, suddenly remembering that info. "And what's in the Congo?"
"Famine, war, and disease," Kynan says. "Raping and pillaging. Africa is a mess."
I cock an eyebrow at him. "And Jerico's going to bring peace to the country?"
Kynan grins at me. "He's taking a team to help reclaim a natural gas plant that's been taken over by rebels."
My breath gushes out again, this time with fear. "Is he safe?"
"Of course he's not safe," Kynan chastises, as if I should know better. "But he's good at what he does. I'm sure he'll be fine."
I nod, swallowing hard, but the thought of Jerico dying has distracted me now.
Thankfully, Kynan gets me back on course. He doesn't pull any punches, either. "He's in love with you. That's why he couldn't go through with his plan."
My entire body jolts. It's the last thing I ever thought I'd hear Kynan say. My heart squeezes painfully because I doubt what he said, so I ignore it. "I want to know why he was going to do it in the first place. He said it was for revenge against Jayce. What did Jayce do to him?"
"Are you sure you want to know?" Kynan asks me bluntly. "Because this could change everything in your life. It could make you hate your brother, or it could make you get past your anger to give Jerico another chance."
I snort at both suggestions because I don't give a shit about Jayce, and I can't imagine what could ever make Jerico want to do something so vicious to me just to get revenge. "I'm sure."
"Jerico was engaged years ago," Kynan says, and this startles me. I thought the man was relationship averse. "Her name was Michelle. They were weeks away from getting married when Jerico came off a mission to find your brother and Michelle in bed together."
I wince, because that just sucks for Jerico, but then I flush with renewed anger at this revelation. My voice quakes with anger. "He was going to show pornographic images of me to my brother just because Jayce was bumping uglies with his fiancee?"
That asshole!
Kynan rolls his eyes at me. "Please. Jerico would never stoop so low."
"Then what?" I ask frustrated as I lean toward him. "What in the hell happened to cause him to do this?"
"Michelle was pregnant at the time," Kynan says softly, and my stomach turns over. I swallow the bile down and tightly clutch the armrests of the chair. "Jerico was over the moon about it. And when he and Michelle split up because of the affair, Jerico was still over the moon about it. It's really what gave him the ability to not sink too low over losing Michelle."
"What happened?" I ask, my voice coming out raspy.
"Jayce talked Michelle into getting an abortion," Kynan says.
I sink back, my energy seeming to dissipate. My head hits the back of the chair, and I look up to the ceiling as tears fill my eyes.
"Jayce hated kids, and I think Michelle actually loved him. He talked her into the abortion and paid for it. When Jerico found out, he instantly became a different person. It destroyed him. When he built himself back up, he shut himself off from anything that could remotely get his heart crushed again."
Oh, God. Poor Jerico.
"Until you," Kynan adds, causing my head to lift. The tears overflow and spill down my cheeks. "You became way more important to him than his revenge. And whether you believe he was justified in wanting his revenge or not, he decided he couldn't put you at risk of getting hurt to assuage his own pain. He changed his mind. That's when I knew he was in love with you."
I wipe the tears from my cheeks and blink my eyes to push the rest out. Staring out the frosted window and seeing the hazy bodies that walk past on the sidewalk, I ask, "Did Jerico pay Jayce off?"
Because he doesn't answer right away, I turn to see Kynan scratching his head, his expression filled with humor and guilt at the same time.
"What?" I demand. "What aren't you telling me?"
With a sigh, he says, "Jayce didn't give you money he had. He got that thirteen from a loan shark. He only owed twenty-thousand back, and he was charging you the extra five to make a profit."
"That son of a bitch," I snarl as my eyes narrow at Kynan, and I try to figure out how to plot Jayce's death.
He holds up a hand for me to calm down. "Jerico handled it. He got the money you gave to Jayce and paid the lender off. That was his favor owed, so he and Jayce are square now."
I nod and turn to look back at the window. "This is a lot to take in.
"What are you thinking?" Kynan asks hesitantly, and I can hear the l
ove he has for his friend in his voice. He desperately wants this to work out for Jerico.
I look back at him with a watery smile. "I think it sucks I had to hear that Jerico is in love with me from you."
Kynan's eyes turn bright with relief, and he chuckles. "I'm sure you'll hear it when he gets back."
"When will that be?"
"No clue," Kynan says. "Could be days, could be a few weeks. But I'll keep you updated."
I nod as I stand, focusing my gaze on him. "Thank you. For telling me the story... and for being his friend."
"Want me to give a message to him when he checks in?"
I shake my head at first, because our words need to be said to each other in person, but then I change my mind. "Wait, yes. Tell him I said to please be safe. It's um... important to me that he stays safe."
Kynan smiles. "You got it."
"And I'll be in to work on Thursday," I tell him. "Jerico promised me a job."
His smile gets bigger as his eyes sparkle. "Then I guess I'll see you here Thursday."
CHAPTER 29
Jerico
I'd normally head straight home after landing in Vegas so I could get showered and rinse the stink of secret military operations off me. Ten days in the Congo, much of it just waiting as we gathered intelligence before we could act, with very limited use of showers, and I was not looking or smelling my best. I had almost two weeks of beard on my face--I was distressed to see a few gray hairs mixed among the dark--and the last shower I had was two days ago. I'm wearing a pair of black BDUs that are at least clean, and I brushed my teeth at the airport bathroom. It would have to do as I couldn't wait another minute to see Trista.
She'd told me to be safe. That it was important to her.
At least that's what Kynan had said on an encrypted satellite call. He'd said, "I've talked to Trista and she knows everything. She said it was important that you stay safe for her."
Since then, time has stood still. I was about going out of my mind waiting for this mission to be completed. Outside of the boredom of gathering intelligence, it was actually quite dangerous when we went in to overtake the energy plant. Renegade Team Three had five members, and we were joined by three Navy seals as well as a United Nations liaison. It was more than enough power to overtake the scraggly band of rebels who had wanted nothing more than to protest human rights violations by trying to stop the flow of natural gas to Europe, thereby hamstringing the unpopular government. There wasn't a single shot fired, and the rebels were turned over to the U.N. to deal with. After debriefing, my team hopped an outbound French military flight from Kinshasa where we flew commercially back to New York and then into Vegas.