Wicked Times Two

by Tina Donahue

  “Then what?” Kyle repeated.

  “We have to hope she wants us as much as I think she does.”

  * * * * *

  Jasmina didn’t tell anyone at the parlor about her decision regarding Noah and Kyle. She pretended nothing had happened, smiled until her face hurt and bubbled over with enthusiasm.

  Van Gogh avoided her like the plague, his BS radar apparently on. Lauren and Tor watched her carefully.

  If Jasmina hadn’t known better, she would have guessed the guys had contacted everyone here, telling them what had gone down.

  Repeatedly she second-guessed what she’d said to them, only to veer back, certain she’d done the right thing. She wasn’t ready for more hurt, probably never would be.

  Yet she experienced more pain now than she ever had.

  The first day without them was pure awful. The second worse. By the end of a full week, she finally caved and looked at their photos. Not the beefcake shots she’d taken on the boat but the ones at the farm and in Orlando. Her heart ached so much she couldn’t pull in a full breath. She texted them a couple of times, always stopping before she sent the messages.

  Another week passed and another. Work distracted or wore her out but the pain inside her remained. A constant reminder of what she wanted but wasn’t certain she should pursue.

  Neither Kyle nor Noah had said they loved her. Of course they hadn’t bugged out either, choosing to work on friendship, see where things took them. Taking a chance on love seemed so impossible to her yet it was all she could hang on to in order to get through another day. If a temporary break from being with them was this hard, what in the world would she do when the time came to say goodbye forever?

  The possibility made her ill and wasn’t helping her work either. She deleted an entry on her Excel spreadsheet and keyed in the proper figure.

  Two older women entered the shop, making a beeline for the artwork. A female client yakked it up with Tor while he inked her in the window chair, her tat nearly as pretty as the one he’d done for Marnie. The groupies outside remained pumped as always, chanting Tor’s name, taking selfies with him in the background.

  Jasmina still hadn’t looked at the ones she’d taken of herself, Noah and Kyle.

  Maybe tonight.

  A new artist hurried to the waiting area, greeting her client, taking him to a workstation in the back.

  Van Gogh came down the hall. His client had arrived a few minutes ago. He moved past Lauren to greet the guy.

  Jasmina grinned like a fool to put Lauren at ease, let her know everything was cool.

  Lauren didn’t smile back, her face ashy. She stared.

  “Are you sick?” Jasmina went to her. “Is it the baby?”

  “No. I need you to come into my office.”

  “Is Dante all right?”

  “Yeah. Please…come with me.”

  She followed Lauren inside. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was listening to the news.” She closed the door and pressed her hand to her chest. “There was a shooting during a traffic stop…one of the WPB cops was hit. The details are sketchy right now. They didn’t say who the cop is—Jasmina, wait.”

  She pulled Lauren’s hand off her arm. The room kept seesawing, blood pounding in her ears. “I have to go to the hospital and see if Kyle or Noah—”

  “No one will tell you if it’s them. You’re not family.”

  “Then I’ll ask at the police station. Let go.”

  Lauren held firm. “They won’t tell you anything there either.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” she shouted. “You want me to stay here and keep working when something might have happened to them?”

  “Of course not. But driving anywhere when you’re so upset could get you hurt.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You expect me to wait to hear the name on the news? Are you kidding?” She jerked her arm free. “Get out of my way.”

  Lauren didn’t move.

  Jasmina wanted to scream. She bounced on her heels then thought of something she hadn’t considered. “I’ll call them.” She grabbed Lauren’s phone off the desk and tried both numbers. They went straight to voicemail. “Shit.” She dropped the phone on a stack of papers. “They’re not answering.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It’s not good.”

  “Look, I’m not thinking any clearer than you are. I forgot about Dante’s connections. He can contact one of his friends on the force and find out what happened. Give me a few secs to call him. If you need to go anywhere, I’ll drive you. Don’t move.”

  “Are you going to call him or not?”

  Lauren grabbed her phone.

  Jasmina wanted to throw up. If anything had happened to either Noah or Kyle…if she never saw… Her throat tightened around a pained moan. She paced, unable to keep still.

  Lauren bounced in place. “Come on, answer, don’t put me through to voice—Dante?”

  Jasmina rushed over. “Is he there?”

  She held up her hand. “No, I’m fine,” she said to him. “No problems with the baby. Did you hear about the shooting?” She listened then told him what she’d heard on the news. “Can you call one of your friends at the station and see who was hit? Jasmina’s dating, ah, a patrol cop there and she’s worried.” Lauren listened then nodded to whatever he’d said. “Call me as soon as you know.”

  The wait was endless. Lauren chewed the side of her thumb. Jasmina sent texts, which neither of them answered, and paced. The racket in the parlor drove her nuts, the music too loud, everyone shouting or laughing. Someone knocked on the door. She flinched.

  “Not now,” Lauren called out.

  “Sorry,” Van Gogh said.

  Jasmina turned to Lauren. “Do cops wear bulletproof vests when they’re on patrol?” She hadn’t bothered asking Kyle or Noah because criminals didn’t shoot cops here. Both of them had said as much. She’d checked out news reports on Google and hadn’t found any recent incidents listed there either. “Do they?” she cried.

  “I don’t know.” Lauren lifted her shoulders. “Maybe in Miami or New York.”

  “That’s what the guys said—this area’s safe. Nothing ever happens. Everyone’s—”

  Lauren’s phone rang. “Hold on.” She checked the screen. “It’s Dante. If you do need to go anywhere, I’ll drive, okay?”

  “Answer the call please.”

  She did, listening for a moment, her color coming back. “Are you sure?”

  “They’re okay?” Jasmina asked.

  Lauren held up her finger. “Okay, great. As soon as you have more info, tell me please.” She ended the call. “Neither Kyle nor Noah was involved. Another cop was.”

  “I have to go.”

  She grabbed Jasmina’s arm. “To where?”

  “The station.” Where else? She had to see and talk to them.

  “You can’t.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “All the cops are out looking for the shooter.”

  “Are you kidding? Now they’re chasing after the guy?”

  “I don’t know. Dante said the supervisors or whatever called the patrol units in. My guess is they’re doing a manhunt or putting up a roadblock.”

  “He’s armed!”

  “I know but he ambushed the other cop. Kyle and Noah know what they’re dealing with. You have to remain calm and stay in here until Dante calls back with more information. I mean it.” She pushed Jasmina down to the sofa. “Don’t move.”

  “I’ll go nuts if I have to keep sitting. Let me pace at least.”

  “Only in here.”

  She walked until her calves and feet hurt worse than they had at Disney World. At last, she dropped to the sofa, head in her hands.

  After what seemed like days, Lauren’s phone rang. Jasmina pushed to the edge of the cushion. “Dante?”

  Lauren nodded and answered the call, saying little. “So what now?” s
he finally asked and then listened. “Okay, give me a sec.” She held the phone to her chest. “The shooter’s in custody; no one else got hurt.”

  Thank God. “I have to go.” Jasmina made it to the door and turned. “I forgot, I didn’t think, I should have asked, I—”

  “No biggie. You were worried. The injured cop is in surgery. He’s expected to make a full recovery.”

  “Thank God.” She hugged Lauren. “Thanks for keeping me from doing anything stupid.”

  “You did the same for me when I was losing my mind over Dante.” She cradled Jasmina’s cheek. “Are you going to talk to Noah and Kyle? Settle stuff? I know things haven’t been good. I see how you are when you don’t know I’m looking. So are you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re going to talk to them at the station?”

  “If I can.”

  “Let me ask Dante to find out when they’re coming off their shift and whether you can be there to greet them.”

  * * * * *

  Jasmina waited in the parking lot near Noah’s pickup. Kyle had parked his vehicle two spaces over. When she’d arrived and gone in the public entrance, one of Dante’s cop friends had been waiting for her. The man was sweet as could be, explaining the guys hadn’t returned yet but he expected them within minutes.

  That was a half-hour ago. Despite her sore feet and legs, she couldn’t stop pacing, adrenaline surging through her.

  She willed the guys to hurry up. How long did they need to get in their street clothes? Hell, around her they’d stripped nude within seconds.

  Come on, come on, come—

  She turned at the sound of footfalls. Noah came into view first, then Kyle. They stopped abruptly, staring at her. She bolted to them, throwing her arms around their torsos, hugging hard. “Lauren told me about the shooting. I thought you guys had—I was going to come down here but she said no—Dante talked to his friends—I’m so sorry about the other cop, he’s going to survive—the SOB should get life—I was worried—you’re both all right, that’s all that—how could that maniac have done that to—?”

  “Whoa.” Noah cupped her chin.

  Kyle rested his hand on her shoulder. “Slow down.”

  “I can’t.” She squeezed them as hard as she could. “I let one bad experience with a guy stop me dead. That’s not me. I’m better than that. I want to try again and see where this takes us. I love both of you.”

  Epilogue

  That evening, Jasmina, Noah and Kyle talked for hours. An intimate conversation she knew was hard for all of them but they stuck with the program. No BS, smartass comments or teasing. Okay, there was a little with the guys ganging up on her, as usual, feigning confusion at some of the stuff she’d said then joking around about it. If they hadn’t, she would have been disappointed. Playing with her head was so like them, part of who they were.

  Noah and Kyle had her pegged too.

  “Think you can live with our being cops?” Noah asked. He studied his beer bottle before looking at her again. “Stuff like today with the shooting?”

  “Or trying to outthink us on things?” Kyle rested his elbows on her kitchen table. “Like when we went dancing or after we came back from Zimmerman’s tub and you were ready to play matchmaker for us?”

  She squeezed their hands gently. “I don’t want you guys dating anyone else. Never have. Everything I said was to protect myself. From now on, I’ll be honest, promise. As far as the cop stuff…” She sighed. “Intellectually I know the chances of either of you getting hurt are slim, given the department’s history. You probably have a better chance of being carjacked or robbed at a convenience store, getting in an accident on the highway, being on a plane that crashes, catching the disease of the week like flesh-eating bacteria, the amoeba that liquefies brains, the—”

  “We get your point.” Noah turned his hand over, lacing his fingers through hers. “Even people who have so-called safe jobs, like accountants, could be struck by lightning on a sunny day at the golf course.”

  “Or get attacked by sharks at the beach,” Kyle said. “Choke on a hotdog at a picnic.”

  “Get bit by a rabid dog—no wait.” Noah’s eyes rounded. “A bat.”

  Kyle nodded. “Stung to death by killer bees.”

  “Hit by a falling tree during a storm.”

  “Or flying debris from a hurricane.”

  They were messing with her again. She smacked their arms. They laughed.

  She sagged in her chair. “I’m not saying I’m going to be a fanatic about this but I won’t lie either and say I’ll never worry. I will. What woman wouldn’t?” She pointed at Kyle before he could answer. “I know your aunts who are cops have no emotions but I’m talking regular women.”

  “My family worries too.” He patted her hand. “You’re not that different except for letting your imagination run wild.”

  Noah turned to Kyle. “Now that I think of it, Jasmina’s a lot like my mom.”

  “Naw, your mom worries more.”

  “True. The other day—”

  “Guys?”

  They smiled at her, playing again.

  She needed to be serious. “I’d rather have both of you in my life for a little while than not at all. I’m willing to take the risk no matter how this turns out.”

  Noah kissed her palm. “Me too.”

  “Same here.” Kyle slung his arm around her shoulders.

  Even with a commitment, they agreed to take things slowly. No seeing each other every day, texting constantly, hours-long phone calls or spending ridiculous amounts of money to do things. They needed to get to know each other in normal situations.

  Their good intentions lasted less than a week.

  Noah broke down first, sending a text to see how she was doing. Kyle emailed next, claiming she’d never mentioned that method of communication so technically he wasn’t breaking any rules. She invited them to lunch at her apartment for something she cooked so they didn’t spend half their paychecks to show her a good time.

  They had fun anyway in the most unlikely places. They tagged along when she went grocery shopping. She traipsed after them at an auto junkyard where Kyle checked out parts for his pickup. Despite the guys’ aversion to clothes shopping they did the mall thing with her when she needed a new pair of sneakers.

  None of those activities kept them from goofing around, laughing until they ached or enjoying themselves.

  When a few disagreements cropped up, as expected, Kyle insisted they talk the problem out. “None of that silent treatment crap.”

  “Or saying, ‘sure, okay, whatever’ and pouting,” Noah said. “Then blindsiding us later with a new argument on the same subject when we thought the damn thing was settled.”

  “Not to mention walking away and refusing to discuss things.” Kyle frowned. “I hate that.”

  She agreed to duke things out with them until everyone was satisfied.

  Six months into their relationship, the guys admitted their love for her as she had for them the night at the station.

  They waited another five months before deciding to move in together. Finding a place each of them liked wasn’t easy but at last they decided to rent a small house from Lauren and Dante, one of their investment properties.

  Although Alice was sorry to see Jasmina go, she had a new tenant quickly—Clover, a sweet, young woman who designed jewelry. For months, Alice had featured the pieces in her shop.

  Noah and Kyle bought Jasmina one of the navel rings. A cascade of rhinestone stars with a silver belly chain that dipped low on her hips.

  “Perfect sub wear,” Noah said.

  Kyle smiled.

  Jasmina asked Lauren about featuring some of Clover’s funkier stuff at the parlor and making the jewelry a part of the franchise plan. Over the months, they’d lined up several well-heeled investors to get the expansion going.

  “You see how Tor and Van Gogh’s artwork pulls in tourists,” Jasmina said. “Clover’s designs could do the same.”
<
br />   Lauren had Molly on her shoulder, gently tapping her baby’s back. Molly burped and gurgled, happy again. She had Lauren’s blue eyes and Dante’s dark hair. “Is Clover the pale little thing I keep seeing outside the window?”

  Yep. Clover had the hots for Van Gogh. So far, he hadn’t noticed her watching him ink clients or her obvious attraction. Typical. Given his cluelessness, Clover would need to make a move.

  If she knew how.

  Hmm. With a little insight into Van Gogh’s personality, Clover might be able to nail him.

  Or not.

  Jasmina was doing it again. Sticking her nose into other people’s lives, trying to make things perfect for everyone. Wasn’t her place. Van Gogh and Clover were both adults and on their own.

  Jasmina had a relationship with her guys to nurture.

  Noah and Kyle headed toward the parlor, right on time to have lunch with her in the back room. The moment they spotted her through the front window, she waved.

  Noah grinned in return. Kyle winked.

  The days ahead were looking good.

  About Tina Donahue

  Tina Donahue is an award-winning, bestselling novelist in erotic romance, and an admitted chocoholic known to down semi-sweet candy bars in grocery checkout lines. She lives with her family in Palm Springs, California, where tires melt in the 120-degree summer heat and an occasional earthquake puts everyone on notice to bolt things down. When she’s not writing her steamy stories, trying to stay cool, or crawling beneath her desk during a trembler, she loves shopping, eating at her favorite Mexican restaurant and meeting other authors. Before she wrote romance, Tina was the editor of an award-winning Midwestern newspaper and worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company.

  Tell Us What You Think

  We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email the author directly or you can email us at Service@ellorascave.com (when contacting Customer Service, be sure to state the book title and author).