There was a brief moment when Quentin sized Jordan up, but just as quickly he shook the possible confrontation from his mind. He was going crazy. In his heart, Quentin knew Phoebe was the one, and tonight he’d crossed the line with her, but he was unapologetic. There were only two things he could do. Have what he knew would be an unpleasant interaction with his best friends, or leave Phoebe alone. Neither of those options were satisfactory for Quentin.
“I’m going to get closer, I can barely see her now,” Quentin said.
“Hey,” Jordan called out.
Quentin glanced back to him.
“Make sure she’s all right, and bring her back.”
Quentin nodded, turning his stroll into a steady jog.
Phoebe stood still with the wind against her face, catching her hair in its swiveling currents. Her outburst had been a first, but it had been brewing a long while. What could she say, Phoebe was severely frustrated, and it was time they all knew it.
“I told you to leave me alone,” she said, keeping her eyes on the crashing waves at the shoreline.
“You know I can’t,” Quentin said.
Phoebe closed her eyes, and her heart raced.
“You should,” she said. “Playing this song and dance with you doesn’t work for me, Quentin. I’ve never been one to play around, so you really should just leave me alone.”
With her eyes evading him, Phoebe sucked in a breath when a cloud of warmth hovered over her. She knew he was standing behind her, but she wasn’t prepared for his touch. Again, her eyes shut when his hands tread across her shoulders. Her body betrayed her, instantly rising with arousal. His arms followed, engulfing her in the sanctuary of his chest. His lips dropped down to her ear, and his warm breath toasted her against the cool sailing winds.
Phoebe tried to gain her strength. “You may want to be careful touching me. I’d hate for someone to see you.”
Quentin turned her to face him. “They only want what’s best for you,” he said. “I only want what’s good for you, too.”
Phoebe’s smile was cynical. “I guess this is the part where you tell me, you’re no good for me, right?”
Quentin pushed out another breath. “You have to understand, Phoebe, your brothers and I have been through a lot together. I will never be good enough for you in their eyes.”
“But you would be good enough for the girl at the bar, right?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Whatever.”
“It’s different when it’s your sister, mother, or daughter.”
“You know what I don’t get, Quentin? Even with everything you guys have been through, my brothers should know your heart. Do they honestly think you would ever hurt me?”
Quentin didn’t speak, but he soaked in her words carefully.
“Would you, Quentin?”
“Hell no.”
Phoebe turned her head and looked back down the path she’d walked. The silence stretched again, and only the ocean waves could be heard.
“Do you even want me?”
Quentin’s gut constricted.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he responded.
Phoebe brought her eyes back to him.
“Do you?”
His lids lowered. “More than anything,” his dark voice grooved.
Phoebe shivered, and she didn’t think it was because of the chill of the night.
“Then what do you plan to do about it?”
It was a standoff, with both of them tackling their own thoughts. Quentin moved first. His hand reached for her chin and his mouth covered hers. An electrifying current buzzed through them both, and they roasted right where they stood. Quentin’s free hand slipped up her shoulders and neck, settling in the back of her hair. Pulling her head slightly back, Quentin stared at her while breathing into her lips.
Phoebe loved the yearning she saw in his eyes—if only he would act on it and let go of this ridiculous vow he’d made with her brothers.
“You don’t know what you do to me…” he said.
“That’s funny, I could say the same about you.”
Phoebe stuck her tongue out and licked his lips. Quentin shut his eyes briefly then inhaled her, sucking her tantalizing tongue down his throat. A burst of heat ran through them, and Phoebe quickly tossed her arms around his neck. Quentin picked her up, and her legs coiled around his waist as their bodies burned together. Kissing from her lips down her neck, Quentin sucked in Phoebe’s warm skin then sank his teeth into her soft flesh.
“Ssss… aaah, baby…” Phoebe moaned with her head hanging back. “Don’t do this to me,” she panted.
Quentin pulled his gaze to hers.
“Don’t do this to me if you don’t plan to finish,” she said.
They stared at one another with desire spilling between them. After too long of a minute, Quentin finally spoke.
“We can’t do this now.”
“It’s now or never.”
“You can’t do that.”
Phoebe untangled herself from him and plopped down to her feet. She turned to walk back up the beach.
“Phoebe.”
Her feet paused, and she waited for him to declare his love for her. She waited for him to tell her he’d wanted her for just as long as she’d wanted him. Phoebe waited as the wind whipped around her, for Quentin to give her some sign that they could be together. That all their teasing when they were young, and all his protectiveness as they got older was all boiling down to this moment in time when they could finally confess their love. Phoebe’s heart knocked in her chest, and her nerves stood on pins and needles.
But his silence was golden, giving her all the answers she didn’t want. Phoebe locked and unlocked her jaw. How much time had she spent daydreaming and fantasizing that the one guy she’d always loved would love her back?
Without saying a word, she resumed her trek back down the beach with the silence behind her becoming infinite.
Chapter Four
Chicago, IL
Cook County Department of Corrections
“We were hired by your brother DeAngelo to help you. I know there aren’t many people you trust, but you should trust us.”
“How do you know who I trust?” the inmate said.
“Your brother gave me an overview. Let me ask you a question. Do you trust DeAngelo?” Phoebe asked.
“He’s about the only one, I trust.”
“That in itself should let you know you can trust us also. Now the fact remains, Melissa if you don’t give me an alibi, the prosecutor will nail you for this crime. They’re trying to give you sixty years.”
Melissa’s eyes stretched. “Damn, I didn’t kill nobody!”
“The sad truth is even some killers don’t get sixty years. But they’re trying to throw the book at you because you wouldn’t cooperate with them. They assumed you would have an appointed attorney instead of a team of lawyers that were going to look after you.”
Melissa rubbed her chin. “Look after me, huh.” Her eyes floated from Phoebe to Jordan, Sylvester Crosby, and Samantha Blake.
They all stood behind Phoebe, who sat in a chair across the table from Melissa Weatherby, a woman indicted on charges of hiding a known terrorist.
“It wasn’t even like what they’re making it out to be,” Melissa said. “What would you have done? He’s my father. I didn’t know he was wanted on suspicion of helping ISIS or anyone else.”
“That may be true, but none of that matters in a court of law. We need to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you had no clue he was in anything. And the day he set that bomb off on the New York subway, we need to know you weren’t there helping him. Because he was living with you and left a trail of evidence in your home that he was creating bombs.”
“The house was in my name.” She sighed. “I didn’t even live there, I…”
Phoebe waited for her to finish. When Melissa didn’t, Phoebe pushed her.
“You… what?”
“I live with my wife,” she said.
They all waited for her to finish as Melissa gauged them for a reaction.
“Okay, what’s your wife’s name?”
“Tammy, but this investigation is in the news, so bringing her in as my alibi would put her in the spotlight, right?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Phoebe responded.
Melissa shook her head. “I can’t do that to her. We have kids. I’ve already lost my job and my name. No one will ever hire me or her if she’s brought into this.”
Phoebe nodded. “I understand, but just so we’re clear if you don’t have an alibi, it’s going to be ten times harder for us to prove your innocence, and the possibility that you could do hard time is real.”
Melissa thought over what Phoebe said.
“How much?” she asked.
Phoebe glanced up at Jordan then back to Melissa. “Excuse me?”
“How much is my brother paying you?”
“Ms. Crosby, we only discuss our fees with the person who hires us.”
“That just means you cost a whole helluva lot,” Melissa confirmed. “I’ve seen you on the news. You and him more than anyone at your firm,” she said, speaking in reference to Jordan. “I know you’re the best. So do what my brother hired you to do and get me out of here.”
The team of attorneys stared at Melissa before Jordan flipped his wrist and checked his Rolex. Strolling to the metal door, he gave a swift three-knuckle knock, and seconds later, the door buzzed then opened. The guards walked inside straight for Melissa. They stood her up and re-cuffed her wrists before coaching her out of the room. Behind them, the lawyers strutted out, making a left turn while Melissa was taken down a different corridor.
“Get me out!” Melissa shouted just as they disappeared around the corner. The attorneys passed through the double doors, and Phoebe covered her face with Christian Dior shades.
“Get me out; she says,” Phoebe mocked with a shake of her head. “Here she is, with a solid alibi and she won’t use it. Why is it that everyone thinks we can perform miracles?”
Jordan smirked. “Because we can,” he said with so much confidence Phoebe almost believed him. Usually she went into a case with the utmost certainty that she could come out with a win. After all, they say attitude is everything when it comes to what you want and believe. But this case was different. They would have to pull out all the stops to keep Melissa from going to a prison where they could possibly bury her and throw away the key.
“No sleep for the next few months, huh?”
Phoebe and Jordan climbed into his car, and she buckled her belt.
“We’ll pull all of the first-year associates on the case and get them to do some digging,” Jordan said.
“We may need a few of the interns to help out on this one, too,” Phoebe said.
Jordan nodded and looked out the window. “Aye yo, sis, you know I didn’t mean anything by what I said back on the beach.”
Phoebe sighed. It wasn’t something she cared to discuss. “Let’s just focus on the case,” she said, needing desperately to keep her mind on anything but Quentin.
“You know I sent Quentin after you thinking he could calm you down, but when you returned you seemed even more frustrated,” he said. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Phoebe turned to look at him, and Jordan glanced over at her. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“No, you said let’s just focus on the case, but I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’ve never seen you flip out like that even during your so-called angry times. You tossed beer on me and then threw the bottle at my head.”
Phoebe twisted her lips and rolled her eyes, swooping her hair back off her shoulders. “I did not throw a bottle at you.”
“Lies,” he said. “I thought lawyers were supposed to tell the truth.”
Phoebe smirked and waved him off. “I didn’t,” she murmured, “if I did, trust me, you would’ve been hit.”
“So cold,” he said, and she smiled.
“What’s cold is having you and Jonathon and everyone else breathing down my throat all the time.”
“Hey, we do that to Eden and Jasmine, too.”
“That’s beside the point. I’m a grown woman. You’ve slept with women my age.”
“Whoa!” Jordan said, “Calm down. You’re taking this too far. I understand your reference.”
Phoebe shrugged. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Damn, if that’s your way of trying to get me to shut up, you win.”
“I told you I have a killer success rate.” Her mouth opened with a bright smile, and she stuck her tongue out.
“Touché.” Jordan became quiet. “Seriously, Phoebe, I get it,” he said. “Seeing you flip out like that worried me.”
Phoebe quirked a brow up at him.
“I’m not joking. From here on out, I swear not to pester you about being a child. You’re right, you’ve been old enough to make your own decision about love and life in general. So if you ever need to talk, you know, about anything, I’m here for you.”
Phoebe stared at Jordan as he drove. Was he actually telling her he would lay off from dipping into her love life or lack thereof? To test it out, she prompted.
“Are you saying if I get a boyfriend, you won’t run a background check and pull him in a stairwell to interrogate him?”
Jordan cut his eyes at her. “I didn’t say all that.”
Phoebe folded her arms. “Are you serious?”
Jordan chuckled. “I won’t pull him in a stairwell, but I’m running his background.”
Phoebe shook her head. “Lord have mercy. It’s times like this I wish Mom were alive so I could tell her how ridiculous you guys are being.”
At the mention of their late mother, the pair quieted.
“You can always tell Dad,” he said.
“Ha! Is that supposed to be a joke? He’s as bad as you guys, if not worse!”
Jordan rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I see your point.”
Phoebe tossed her hands up. “If you really mean what you say, you’ll lay off.”
“Who is he?” he asked straight out.
Phoebe hesitated. “I didn’t say there was someone specific. I’m just pointing out that in the event I do decide to get a life, I want you to stay out of it.”
“So it’s like that?” At Phoebe’s questionable stare, Jordan said, “You’re not going to tell me who it is?”
“Right now, I don’t know myself,” she said sourly.
“Well, when you find out, I want to be the first to know, just promise me that.”
Phoebe sighed. “Fine, now can we drop this?”
“One more question.”
“What?” she said, annoyed.
“What was all that business about you can screw anybody you want. You know you almost gave Norma a heart attack with that kind of talk.”
Phoebe burst into laughter. “Shut up, no I didn’t.”
“You didn’t see her clutch her pearls.” His baritone voice chuckled.
Phoebe bent over laughing.
“I thought Dad was going to have one, too.” Jordan imitated their father puffing out his chest and squinting as he looked from side to side. “Somebody tell me what’s going on,” he imitated.
Phoebe laughed harder.
“You think it’s us you have to worry about, but really it’s Pops. He’s locked and loaded, ready to bust a cap in somebody’s ass.”
Phoebe roared and tears spilled out the corners of her eyes. “You get on my nerves. My father does not sound like that.”
“Shit,” Jordan said, “he did that night.”
They pulled into the parking garage of Rose and Garnett LLC, parking in Jordan’s assigned spot. The attorneys who accompanied them pulled in their designated spaces, and they all got out and strolled in like the Men in Black. Standing at the bank of elevators, Jordan reached out and hit the button. It lit up at the same time Phoebe’s phone
rang.
The smooth melody of Tank chorused from her briefcase. Jordan glanced over at her with a rising brow.
“Is that the guy you don’t know if you’re dating yet?” he asked.
She should’ve been brave enough to pull out her phone and test this new promise that Jordan had made. But she thought twice about it. Sure, Jordan said he would lay off, but when he found out she was in love with Quentin, Phoebe had a feeling he would change his mind.
A part of her wanted to straight out tell him. But again she hesitated. The doors to the elevator opened, and they entered at the same time a message came through her phone.
“You might want to check that,” Jordan said. “Could be an emergency.” He shrugged.
“Drop it, Jordan.”
Jordan raised his hands in surrender. “Consider it dropped.”
Chapter Five
The wind whipped against Quentin’s face as he picked up his agility with increasing speed. The frosty temperature should’ve kept Quentin inside his gym, doing jump aerobics or lifting weights. But those exercises wouldn’t suffice with the adrenaline he required now. It was something only the rush of an accelerated sprint would do, and because of that, Quentin flew in a blur down the winding park pathway.
Quentin had taken a red-eye flight back from Nicaragua, and his contact with Phoebe was nonexistent. Before she walked away from him on the beach, her words had been now or never. But her demands were unreasonable. It was no easier on him than it was on her. And now, Quentin presumed she’d stop communicating with him altogether. All of his text messages had gone unresponsive, and his phone calls ignored. Quentin had never called a woman so much in his life, and it bothered him to shame that he did now. Quentin wasn’t interested in wallowing about it. He’d come to terms long ago that Phoebe owned him; so why then was it so hard for him to have the conversation with his friends.
They were essentially family, and people changed every day. They could give him the benefit of the doubt. But it’s their sister. Quentin’s speed increased, and he ran to clear his mind of the heavy thoughts, but they were unyielding, determined to distract him at all costs. His mind was far away when Quentin stepped into the street without looking.
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