Watching Trin by Freya Barker

Chapter 21

Trin

“Mr. Hawkins? JD?”

I’m breathing heavy, running to catch up with the tall burly guy who is heading from the athletic fields to the parking lot at a decent clip.

Yesterday I couldn’t get anywhere trying to get a home number or an address for him, and the person at the college on the other end of the line was less than forthcoming. I left a message at his extension at the college but he never called me back.

Then this morning I decided my best bet was to hang around the college to try and catch him. I noticed a football practice on one of the fields and was on my way over there when I saw him. I recognized him from his staff directory photo, but before I could get to the other side of the field, practice was over and he started walking. I had to push my way through a herd of large, sweaty, and definitely smelly football players to catch up with him.

He’s already standing next to a big shiny SUV when he hears me calling and turns around. As I close the distance, he scrutinizes me top to bottom.

“Who wants to know?” he asks when I’m close enough.

I reach out my hand and he hesitantly takes it.

“Katrina Paige, hi, sorry to bother you. I only recently returned to Durango and am trying to reconnect with some friends from high school.”

I’ve learned for a lie to be successful you have to stick as close to the truth as you can.

Still, the man narrows his eyes and gives me another once-over.

“I don’t mean to be blunt, but I don’t remember you.”

I force a chuckle. “That doesn’t surprise me, I went to Durango High, but I’m actually looking for a friend we had in common. I lost touch with her when I went off to college and can’t find her. I’m hoping you might have an idea where she went. I’ve exhausted all other leads.”

“Maybe it’ll help if I know who we’re talking about,” he says, a slight edge to his voice as he folds his arms over his gut.

“Cherry Danvers.” I keep a very close eye on his reaction, but other than a raised eyebrow there is little. “I recall her telling me you guys were dating,” I prompt.

“I remember Cherry,” he acknowledges. “We hung out a few times.”

From what Bodhi told me, they did more than just hang out but I wasn’t there so I’m not going to contradict him. However, if it turns out to be her body that was pulled from the river, I’d be curious to know what he has to say about that night of the party.

“I’m so glad you remember; I’m having a hell of a time finding her.”

The arms uncross, which I hope means he’ll open up.

“Not sure what I can tell you. As far as I know, she skipped town before graduation. I haven’t heard from or seen her since. I assume you checked with her foster parents?”

“I found out they moved away as well. Can’t have been that long after. I can’t locate them.”

He pulls his heavy eyebrows together.

“Really? That’s weird, because I’m pretty sure her little brother stuck around. I could’ve sworn it was him at the gym a couple of weeks ago, not so little anymore now.”

If her brother is still in town that would be awesome. I try not to let my excitement show.

“You mean Jordan? I haven’t been able to find him either. Which gym was that?”

“The Edge. It’s a boxing gym off Main, across from the Hampton Inn.”

“I think I know where that is. What does he look like now?”

I can tell he’s getting annoyed with the conversation when he pointedly checks his watch. “I don’t know, dirty blond, beard, one of those typical muscle hairdos.”

“You mean the hair shaved on the sides but longer on top?”

“Yeah. Look, I’ve got to get going, I’m late for a meeting.”

He unlocks the SUV and opens the door.

“Oh, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. Appreciate your help.”

“Sure,” he mutters as he gets behind the wheel.

I step onto the curb and watch as he peels out of the parking lot. It doesn’t surprise me; it kind of fits the profile: big, loud, and bullish. Yet there wasn’t anything that stood out to me as deceptive, except perhaps his downplaying of the dating part, but that also fits the profile.

When I get back to the Jeep, I check the time. Twelve thirty, plenty of time to swing by The Edge before I head over to the Chop Shop for a trim. I made the appointment after seeing what Anika did with my sister’s hair. I won’t go quite as short as Vic’s—I’d prefer to keep some length—but it could use some freshening up.

The gym is right next to a yoga studio I should check out at a later time. I miss the yoga place I used to frequent in San Antonio. I only did one class a week, but it was enough to keep me limber. I should probably get back to it.

I’m assaulted by eau-de-locker-room—the smell of dirty socks and stale sweat—the moment I walk into the place. Grunts sound from one of the two boxing rings set up in the center of the space where two guys are dancing around, exchanging punches. On either side of the rings, punching bags hang down from the ceiling and toward the back, I see a few guys pumping weights.

“What do you want?”

I swing around at the deep voice and see a large black guy sitting behind a desk in a small office off the entrance. Not the friendliest welcome, but I guess I don’t really fit the part of someone looking to go a few rounds.

“I’m actually looking for someone who works out here.”

I’m being vague because I haven’t quite decided yet whether to lie or tell the truth. I have a feeling this guy could weed out the lie a mile away. He looks older, fifties probably, but with an impressive physique. That’s only confirmed when he gets up and rounds his desk.

“Lots of people come here so you’re gonna need to be more specific than that.”

“Jordan Danvers. You know him?”

I scan for any sign of recognition but there isn’t one and my hopes are dashed when he confirms it.

“Don’t know anyone by that name. What do you want the guy for?”

Fair question, I suppose.

“He’s the brother of a girl I’m looking for—a woman by now, I guess—and I was hoping he might know where I could find her.”

His eyes slide over my shoulder and I can sense someone coming up behind me.

“What’s the name again?”

“Jordan Danvers.”

“What do you want with him?”

I swivel around at the raspy voice and come eye to eye with a man who may not be as big and bulky as his friend, but is equally intimidating. His silver beard is neatly trimmed, but his frown is dark and his eyes are cold. What is really intimidating is the leather cut he’s wearing branding an MC insignia I remember. Pops used to warn us about avoiding members of the Arrow’s Edge MC.

It takes me a minute to realize this guy knows Jordan. It’s the way he formulated the question.

“I’m just looking for his sister,” I repeat before I think to add, “They used to live a couple of doors down from us.”

He squints at me and purses his lips, making me feel like a bug under a microscope. Then he marches right past me and out the door. I watch as he stops by my Jeep and appears to check out my license plate. Then he shoots me a look through the entrance door and saunters to the bike I hadn’t noticed parked on the other side.

A heavy hand falls on my shoulder and I swing my head around.

“Never mind Paco. He’s good people.”

“If you say so,” slips out before I can check it, and I’m surprised to see the guy’s face crack into a wide smile.

“Name’s Bubba,” he says, holding out his massive paw for me to take. “Yours?”

“Trin Paige.”

“Well, Ms. Paige. Sorry I couldn’t help, but if you’re ever looking for a mixed martial arts trainer, I’m your guy.”

I grin back at him.

“I’ll remember that.”

* * *

Bodhi

“Finally!”

Anika’s dramatic greeting makes me chuckle.

I tried calling a few times this morning when I got off shift, but she was either still asleep or already busy at the salon. Then I left my phone in the kitchen to charge while I got caught up on sleep. Stepping out of the shower I heard it ring, which is why I’m dripping and—except for a hasty towel around my hips—naked in the kitchen.

“You leave three messages in succession for me to call and when I do you don’t answer. Now I’m worried. What’s going on?”

“Did you give Jeannie my number?”

There’s a pause before she answers.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because she called me the other day and mentioned she’d talked to you.”

“Jeannie? I saw her on Monday, popped by the hospital for a visit. She didn’t say anything about you, though. What did she want?”

Weird.

“She called me Wednesday night. Wanted me to see what was holding up the report on the fire investigation. Said she talked to you about it.”

I pad back to the bathroom and grab another towel to dry my hair.

“I talked to her and your name may have come up, but I definitely didn’t give her your number.”

The tone of her response is a little defensive but I believe her.

“Well, then I don’t know how she got her hands on—”

“Wait a minute,” she interrupts me. “She asked to use my phone. Said her phone had run out of juice overnight and her charger was at home. She stepped out in the hall to make a call.”

“She could’ve gotten it off your phone,” I suggest.

“God. She hasn’t changed a bit,” Anika grumbles.

“What do you mean?”

“I swear the only reason she hung out with me in school was to get your attention.”

I snort. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not in high school anymore.”

“Whatever. I have to go, my one thirty just walked in. It’s your girlfriend.”

Trin?

Before I have a chance to say anything, the line goes dead. Again with the drama.

Her little stunt leaves me wondering though, and after getting dressed I snatch up my keys and head out. It just so happens I have to pass by the salon on my way to see the fire inspector on the south side of town. Trin’s familiar Jeep is parked out front.

Looks like my sister wasn’t yanking my chain, but now I’m worried what she’s doing to Trin’s gorgeous hair. I’d hate to see it cut off. The temptation is there to stop, go inside, and tell her as much, but I can pretty much draw you a picture as to how that would go over.

Instead of stopping, I drive on to Station 1 where the fire inspector has an office. I’m still not sure what it is Jeannie thinks I can accomplish that she can’t, but I told her I’d try. Rather than call, I figured I’d have more of a chance to get answers if I asked him face-to-face.

Bill Godfrey looks up when I walk into his office.

“Jones, to what do I owe this honor?”

He gestures to a visitor’s chair and I take a seat.

“The Pickled Egg fire a week ago.”

“Ah, yes.” He sits forward with his elbows on the desk and tents his fingers under his chin. “Any particular reason for your interest in the case?”

Half an hour later I walk out of the station with my mind going a mile a minute.

Godfrey got me up-to-date on the investigation, but I’m not sure it’s going to be helpful to Jeannie. Apparently, aside from a few tests he’s still waiting on, the signs indicate foul play. Hell, he’s been talking to the cops already. The fire ignited literally with a bang when Mr. Anderson lit the burner on the stove, blowing him clear across the kitchen. That implies a gas leak, which in itself isn’t that unusual, however, the gas line hooked to the large range looked like it might have been tampered with.

Under the circumstances, I understand why they won’t let Jeannie into the building. If those lab results confirm Godfrey’s suspicions, the entire restaurant and everything in it would become a crime scene.

This puts me in a bit of a bind. There’s no way I can report any of this back to Jeannie or I could compromise the investigation, but I also don’t want to have to lie. I’m pissed at her but mostly at myself. She shouldn’t have asked but I’m the one who agreed to look into it. It’s done now. I’ll simply have to avoid contact with her until Godfrey finalizes his report.

I have a date with a boy and his dirt bike, so on my way back into town I stop in at Handlebar Motorsports. A few parts on Tuck’s bike weren’t salvageable and have to be replaced. I also want to buy some good quality spray paint we can use on the tank and fender.

My eyes don’t quite know where to focus first when I walk in. A vast selection of quads lines one side of the store, while the other side looks geared toward a variety of motorcycles. It’s a grown man’s version of a candy store, which is why what should’ve taken ten minutes turns into an hour. By the time I walk out with most of the things I went in there for, I’m seriously considering getting myself a quad. It might come in handy at my new place. Or so I tell myself.

Trin opens the door on my knock.

“Guess what?” she blurts out right away, but I’m too busy taking her in.

My sister is good. I didn’t think there was anything to improve on when it came to Trin’s hair, but I was wrong. Not sure what the fuck she did to it, but the result has my blood heating up. She looks either wind-tousled or thoroughly fucked. Either way, the artful tumble of waves is a good look on her.

I lift my hand and run a strand between my fingers. Soft as silk too.

“You like?”

Rather than answer, I show her by grabbing the mass of hair at the base of her neck. Dipping my head down, I slant my mouth over hers and kiss her deeply, while guiding her back into the house.

“I guess that’s a yes,” she concludes when I let her up for air.

Her face is flushed, her lips swollen, and her blue eyes sparkle from underneath her lashes.

“That’s a fuck yes. What did she do?”

A satisfied smile lingers on her lips as she leads me down the hall to the kitchen.

“A trim, a nourishing treatment, and she gave me a few layers,” she explains.

I don’t really know what that means, but if this is the result, I’m all for it.

“I take back anything bad I’ve ever had to say about my sister.”

Trin snickers as she dives in the fridge to grab me a beer.

“So guess what?” she repeats her earlier question and this time I play along.

“What?”

She pops the top and hands me the bottle, which I immediately set aside so I can lift her cute ass up onto the counter.

“I think Cherry’s brother, Jordan, still lives in town.”

I listen with half an ear as I wedge my hips between her knees.

“Oh yeah?”

She nods fervently, making the hair bounce around her face. She wears her excitement like a kid. Cute as hell.

“I had a hard time chasing down JD Hawkins, but I finally caught up to him at the college. He thought he saw him at a gym, it’s called The Edge. So anyway, I went there and asked around, and I think—”

“Hold on a sec,” I interrupt, her words slowly registering. “You walked into The Edge? By yourself?”

She squints her eyes and ever so slightly tilts her head.

“Yeah, and?”

I hear the threat in her voice but it’s not enough to quell the primordial urge to claim and shield her.

“That’s a rough place for—”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘a woman,’ you’d better think again.” Those same eyes now blast ice in my direction. “I’ve worked in far more dangerous places, Bodhi. I can certainly handle myself in a neighborhood gym.”

The Edge is a hardcore place, filled with testosterone and big bodies. It’s owned by the Arrow’s Edge MC, but aside from bikers, there are plenty of cops and firefighters who frequent the place too. I should know, I go from time to time. Maybe that’s why I’m having such a strong reaction to this, I spend time with these guys, I know how they think.

Trin walking into that place alone would’ve spiked the testosterone levels stratospherically. It’s not so much her safety, but the thought of those eyes on her that has my blood burn through my veins.

She’s fucking mine.

I grab her hips firmly and pull her to the edge of the counter, grinding my rock-hard shaft against her crotch. Not trusting myself to speak without digging the hole deeper, I claim her mouth as I palm her ass. When I feel her hands tangle in my hair and she lets out a soft moan, I feel like pounding my chest.

I’m so caught up in her, I don’t even hear Tuck coming in until it’s too late.

“Oh, gross!”