Page 126 of The Price of Forever

Once we got to Black & Brewtiful, I paused outside the main doors with Jordan. She shivered in her leather coat, pulling it tighter around her in the chilly morning air. Another reminder, beyond the red and gold leaves plastered to the shop windows, that fall was peaking and winter was right around the corner.

“I’ll stay with you for a little bit,” I told her, squeezing her arms. “But Chico will come and stay for the rest of your shift, so I can get in touch with Trojan’s contact.”

She nodded eagerly. “Awesome. I love it. And I promise I won’t scare off Chico this time.”

There was a warm but painful wrench in my chest. I wanted her for my own. I really did. But I didn’t know how to make that become a reality without losing my balls, my business, or Jordan herself. Every path forward seemed to include too many traumatic obstacles. The storm cloud was endlessly brewing.

Something needed to change, immediately. But I couldn’t figure out what.

She pushed onto her toes, searching for a kiss, and I was too soft to reject it. I cupped the side of her face, kissing those velvety lips of hers once, then twice, then three times. Part of me wanted to stay there for an hour, locked in the goodbye kiss, but she pulled away, giggling.

“Time to go clock in,” she reminded me.

I pushed at her hip. “Go do it.”

I followed her inside a moment later. I took my usual place in the back corner—perfect for keeping an eye on both her and the front doors. A call to Trojan was up first. He was expecting it after I’d texted him earlier that morning.

“You’re lucky I’m not in California right now,” he muttered in lieu of a greeting.

“You would have to answer at four a.m. even if you were,” I told him. Jordan arrived at my table with a grin a moment later, dropping off a steaming Earl Grey tea. I winked at her before she returned to the front counter.

“Because I’d never risk missing some other completely batshit crazy idea you have,” he scoffed.

“Listen, I haven’t even told you my newest idea,” I reminded him, unable to contain my grin, “so don’t get too cocky. It could be perfectly level-headed for all you know.”

“Something tells me it’s not.”

I paused. “You might be right.”

“Jesus Christ. Let’s hear it.”

I looked around the small alcove where I was seated. A few other patrons sat at tables nearby, focused on laptops and steaming mugs of coffee. I was probably safe here. But I’d need to tone things down, just in case.

“We met someone recently who has some interesting information.” I cleared my throat. “Related to her brothers.”

“Okay…good guy or bad guy?” he prompted.

“Bad.”

“Hm. What type of information?”

“The sort that could destroy the SEC case against them,” I said softly. “And expose it as completely corrupt.”

Trojan heaved a sigh, staying quiet for a moment. “Okay. And I’m assuming when you texted me earlier about connections, you had Federico in mind.”

“Yep.” My heart rate picked up. Federico had been working for the FBI as recently as three months ago. He was a walking true crime documentary, and that was only based on the shit he was allowed to talk about. I didn’t know him half as well as Trojan did, but if anybody had a shot at pointing us in the right direction, it was this dude.

“Let me reach out. The best you could hope for is a phone call.”

“That would make my day.”

Trojan and I chatted for a few more minutes, catching up on my business progress and his general whereabouts—Paris, out on a new assignment with a celebrity he couldn’t name per contract stipulations but could assure me I’d seen in plenty of movies over the past five years.

Before we hung up, he asked, “You still bangin’ the client or what?”

I sighed heavily.

“Jesus. Well, you can’t say I didn’t at least try to knock some sense into you.”

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