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Bentley’s jaw clenches as he looks over my shoulder. “Why is it still there? Can you figure out who’s on the other end?”
Kingston grips each side of my waist and pulls me back into him. I know he's trying to ground me, to ward off my hysteria, but it's not helping. "Not without tipping them off. John thinks Callahan may have installed it to monitor Jazz to see if her mom told her anything incriminating about them, but we don't know for sure."
Bentley’s dark chocolate eyes drill into me. “You have to get out of that house, Jazz.”
“I’ve told her the same fucking thing,” Kingston adds.
I roll my eyes. “Not this again.”
Bentley throws his hands up. “What the hell does that mean? Why would you stay there? You know we’ll take care of you. It’s not like you’d be on the streets.”
I fly off the couch and point an accusing finger at Kingston. “For the same reason he’s still living at his house even though he can afford to buy a two million dollar car! I don’t want them to know that I’m on to them. I need to be close enough to get information if they slip up. I need to know the truth about my mom! I need to ensure that what she went through wasn’t in vain. I need to know if they...if she was...if they...”
I’m losing my train of thought. I can’t fucking think. It’s too much. Everything is too goddamn much. I angrily swipe at my tears as I sob uncontrollably. How is this my life? This isn’t a life; it’s a fucking living nightmare. I just want to wake up in my old shitty apartment, see my sister in the bed across from me, holding her stuffed panda. My mom would still be alive. Charles Callahan wouldn’t exist. None of this would fucking exist.
“Jazz, breathe.” Kingston is standing in front of me, lips moving, but I can’t hear him over the noise in my head.
My throat is constricting. Spots flicker before my eyes. There’s this charged tension in the air, dancing around me, making me dizzy. I’m weightless. Floating. I feel like a specter, witnessing someone else’s meltdown.
“Kingston, fucking do something!” I think that was Bentley. He’s standing now, too, running his hand along my back, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Hell, maybe I have.
Kingston’s face is so close, some of the spots fade away. “Jazz, look at me.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me so hard, my teeth rattle. “Fucking look at me! Breathe, goddammit!”
I can see the fear in his greenish-gold eyes. He wants to make the pain stop, but doesn’t he know he can’t make it stop? I’m flayed open, raw, nerve endings exposed. I don’t know if anything can make it stop. I can’t pretend to be okay anymore. I just can’t.
Kingston’s fingertips are bruising as he grips my jaw, but I
welcome the pain. “Fuck. Baby, you have to breathe. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
Whatever Kingston sees in my eyes has him launching into action. My body jerks in shock as his lips press against mine. It's like I've been hit with a bolt of lightning as he pries my mouth open, sliding his tongue against mine. Kingston pulls back after a moment, and I gasp, greedily gulping in precious air. He opens his mouth to say something, but I don't give him a chance. I grip the back of his neck and pull him into me. Now, I’m the one kissing him, but it doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate.
Blissful silence surrounds me as our kiss deepens, and our hands roam, but the panic resurfaces at the sudden absence of heat. I open my eyes to find Bentley trying to slip away.
Without thinking, I rip my mouth away from Kingston’s and cry, “Don’t.”
Bentley freezes in place, instantly bathing me in relief.
Kingston looks at me questioningly. His eyes bounce back and forth between Bentley and me, searching for answers I don't know how to provide. I don't know exactly what I’m asking for. Words are inadequate. All I know right now is need. I need to feel safe. I need to feel loved. I need to feel whole. A giant piece of my heart has been missing since my mom's beautiful soul left this earth. I'm tired of feeling sad. I’m tired of feeling broken. I’m tired of feeling numb.
I’m just so. Fucking. Tired.
Kingston’s eyes lock on Bentley’s before giving his friend an almost imperceptible nod. If I wasn’t watching him so carefully, I would’ve missed it.
Kingston takes my arms and raises them straight above my head. His fingers curl under the hem of my shirt, briefly clenching the material in his fists before lifting it over my head. He pops the button on my pants next, waiting for permission to continue. I slide the zipper down and push them over my hips, wordlessly giving him the green light. Bentley groans as Kingston crouches down, first removing my shoes one by one, then my socks, then finally, my pants. I’m left standing in my bra and panties, while both men are still fully dressed.
Kingston gently wipes my remaining tears away before leaning down to whisper in my ear. "If this is what you need right now, we'll take care of you, but you have to be sure Jazz. You can't take it back. I don't want you to regret this."
I honestly don’t know if I’m going to regret this come morning. Or what exactly is about to happen. But what I do know is that life is unpredictable. Life is short. I’m unsure of many things, but I’ve never felt safer than in their arms. And the one thing I’m most certain of? Kingston and Bentley will give me what I so desperately need right now: They’ll make me feel alive.
I give Kingston a single nod. “I’m sure.”
A low rumble sounds in Kingston's chest before he pulls back slightly. Our eyes meet, and we have one of those strange, wordless conversations we're so good at. I'm telling Kingston it's time for him to take charge because I don't want to think; I only want to feel. He tells me he knows where my boundaries lie better than I do, and he promises not to let anyone cross them, least of all me.
Bentley is watching us on bated breath, waiting to see his role in all of this. The bulge in his pants reflects his excitement, but his mocha eyes are filled with curiosity. Astonishment.
Kingston takes a deep breath and briefly closes his eyes. When he opens them, they're filled with determination as he reaches one arm behind his neck and removes his t-shirt. Then, he grabs my face and kisses the shit out of me until I'm breathless and aching. At some point, Kingston beckons Bentley closer, and I sigh against Kingston's mouth as Bentley's bare chest warms my back. I have no idea when he took his shirt off, but the feeling of being sandwiched between these two men, skin to skin, is indescribable. Bentley's fingertips trail down my sides, eliciting a full-body shiver. When he reaches the curve of my ass, a groan is ripped from his throat as he palms my cheeks with both hands.
“Fuck, Jazz.” Bentley’s tone is adoring. Reverent.
