The Triangle Read online

  And she’s holding the box with the triangle etched on the top.

  I can’t see it, but I know what she’s looking at.

  Her eyes meet mine as I kick the door closed and toss my keys on the little dining table. “You didn’t sell it?” she asks.

  I take off my jacket, hang it on the back of a chair, and say, “Not mine to sell. And uh… how do you know what it is if you can’t remember anything?”

  She turns the box around so I can see the diamond. Holds it up like an offering. “I remember this. I remember this day.”

  I suck in a breath of air and nod. “Remember anything else?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Not really.”

  I grunt. “Well, that sucks. And it figures.”

  “Why does it figure?”

  “Because, Christine. You and I have been partners since you were ten years old. Like fourteen fuckin’ years. And the only thing you can remember is the day we let fuckin’ Alec in?”

  “In what?”

  I grunt and shrug again. Louder. More deliberate this time. “Into us.”

  She just stares at me.

  “Us,” I repeat. “Me and you were a team. A damn fuckin’ good one too. And then his rich, punk-boy ass comes along. And he charms us both. And he’s got everything we want but don’t have. And we just let him…” Poke the pretty right out of us, I don’t say. “In,” I finish.

  She shrugs now too, unable to give as many shits as me, I suppose. “We must’ve let him in for a reason.”

  “Yeah, because that’s what he does. That’s who he is. He’s a dirty fuckin’ con man and you really don’t want to know the story I just got from my partner about what he did now.” I run my fingers through my hair. “You really don’t.”

  “I killed someone.”

  “Yeah.” I kinda laugh. “Thanks for that. I guess I owe you.”

  “What?”

  “Turns out that asshole you killed was probably gonna kill me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean shit is going down, Christine. Shit is going down and I’m in the middle of it. I think my partner was trying to get rid of me.”

  “Get rid of you how?”

  “Doesn’t really matter,” I say. “The only thing that matters is David, that guy you offed? He was gonna take my place.” I walk over to the fridge, take out a beer, pop the top, and gulp. When I come up for air I’m staring at her. “And you took that off the table. So uh, yeah. Thanks.”

  She stares back at me.

  I get a weird feeling. Like… shit, I dunno. Her intense gaze just kinda affects me that way. I lean my hip against the kitchenette counter, unsure what to say next.

  “I think it’s really good to see you,” she says.

  Which makes me smile. “Good to see you too, Mean Keene.”

  She giggles. “No.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, unable to stop the grin as I nod my head. “That’s your name. And you know what’s worse?”

  “What?”

  “You picked it out.”

  She almost snorts. “I did not. That’s stupid.”

  “Hey.” I shrug. “You were ten. Lesson number one in the Book of Thugs. Wait until you’re old enough to wear a training bra before you choose your gangsta name.”

  She stands up, snaps the metal box closed, tosses it on the couch, and walks towards me.

  I think… I think my heart is beating too fast. I lock eyes with her as she slowly walks across the small living room. My t-shirt is too big on her, so it ends high-thigh. Her bare legs capture my attention and I have a second to wonder if she’s wearing anything underneath it.

  She stops in front of me, one hand reaching for my beer, setting it on the counter, the other on my waist, sliding around to press against the hard muscles of my back. “What are you doing?” I breathe.

  “I want to touch you for some reason.” She moves forward. Her breasts against my chest. Her head finding a home against my shoulder. She’s looking up at me with… with… I dunno. I don’t know what that is, but she’s got her arms wrapped around my middle now and it makes me want to…

  “Christine,” I say, reaching around to grab her wrists and pull her off me.

  “What?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because”—I sigh—“that’s not what we are.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No,” I say, so frustrated. “No, I’m not. We’re just friends.”

  She pulls away a little so she can see my face. “Friends? Do friends come back to kill enemies for you?”

  “Partners,” I say.

  She smiles a little. Just the corners of her mouth lift up, which makes me look at her lips as she talks. “I don’t remember everything but I know… I know this is right. I have wanted to touch you since you first rescued me from that tin-foil apartment.”

  I don’t know what to do.

  I want to kiss her so bad right now. Not the kiss of a friend, either. Or a partner. I want to kiss her whole mouth like we’re lovers.

  But I’m afraid. I could ruin everything if I kiss her. I could ruin us, and this, and everything I ever hoped for since she left. I want her to stick around. I don’t want to disappoint her again. I don’t want to fuck things up. I don’t think I could live through another breakup.

  But I can’t tell her any of that, either. Because I know what she’ll do. She’ll lean up on her tiptoes, place her hands on my cheeks, and kiss my mouth like we’re something we’re not.

  And I’ll forget that’s not what we are, and I’ll let her, and kiss her back, and then tomorrow—

  “Christine,” I practically beg.

  But she’s not listening. Her hands are pressed against my cheeks. Her eyes are only looking at mine. And then she does it.

  She kisses me.

  And I know. This is the moment that defines who we are. It’s the beginning of something we can’t have. And everything that comes after is just an ending.

  CHAPTER TEN - CHRISTINE

  He grips my wrists, still in the act of trying to remove himself from my embrace. But he loses the battle almost instantly. The moment our lips touch we close our eyes and sink into each other.

  It’s everything I imagined. A sense of complete peace. The longing fades and satisfaction takes its place. My fingertips slip under his shirt and the heat of his body increases both my desire and the feeling that this is how things were meant to be.

  It’s not an urgent kiss though. Not some prelude to us ripping each other’s clothes off. It’s just… nice.

  And I might not remember everything that makes up Christine Keene, but I do know one thing: Nice isn’t something I’ve gotten a lot of in my short life. So I take it. I sigh into our kiss, my hands pressing against the hard muscles of his waist as I invite him in.

  “Christine,” he says, pulling back in the very moment I’m opening up.

  “What?” I ask, irritated that he’s still putting up this stupid pretense.

  “We can’t—”

  “We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

  His grip on my wrists is real now. And a second later my hands are no longer touching his body.

  “What?” I ask, pleading with him as I gaze into his blue eyes. “What?”

  “This isn’t what we are. It’s gonna ruin everything if we…”

  But he can’t even say it. “If we what? If we fuck? Jesus. I might not remember everything, but I seriously doubt you’ve never thought about this. You want to fuck me. I can tell.”

  “Stop being so goddamned vulgar.”

  I push him away, angry at… I don’t know. The rejection. The fact that this feels like who we are and he’s telling me it’s not. Which means my instincts are off. And that kinda scares me. And—

  “Look,” he says. I glance up at him through my hanging hair and he stops. Sighs. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love you like that. I do. But we’re in a world of shit right now, Christi
ne. And it’s not the time to start a brand new chapter in our lives. We gotta finish what we started and then maybe…”

  But he never ends the thought. Just shakes his head, pushes me so I have to take a step back, and extricates himself from the situation.

  “Maybe what?” My words come out hard. Accusatory, maybe.

  He turns to face me once he’s in the middle of the small living room. “I’m glad you’re here. No,” he says, shaking his head. “Glad isn’t even close to what I feel about you being here. Fuckin’… fuckin’…” He holds his hands up, palms towards each other, like he wants to choke me. Because he feels something for me and he doesn’t even have a word for it. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t, Christine. I’ll fuckin’ die this time. I’m not gonna lose you again.”

  “I’m offering myself to you,” I say, taking a few steps towards him. “All you gotta do is accept me.”

  “Jesus,” he says, fingertips threading into his hair like his frustration has reached a new level. “Can we just take it slow?”

  I smile at him. Not because I’m happy or anything. I am a little happy though. Because this all feels good. It feels right. I should be scared right now. And if I was alone and not with Danny, I would be scared. But I’m not alone. I am with him.

  He smiles back at me. “I missed you,” he says. “So much.”

  I nod, walking towards him. Trying to erase the space between us. Get back to where to where we need to be. Where we should be. But I go slow this time. Like he’s prey that might get away.

  God, that’s a disturbing analogy.

  “I want you, Christine. The way you want me. But I don’t want to give up what I just got back, do you understand that at all?”

  I nod. Because I do.

  “And hey, if when all this blows over you’re still interested, if when we get somewhere safe you still want this—”

  “I will,” I say, feeling very sure of myself.

  “—then we’ll… give it a try, OK? But business comes first.”

  That stops me. “What?”

  “We gotta take care of this situation. You have no idea how much shit we’re in. Both of us. And fuckin’ Alec is gonna get here soon and—”

  “Alec is coming?”

  He winces at my question. Because there’s excitement in it. And then the wince goes hard. “Yeah, he’s coming. But it’s not gonna play out like some family fuckin’ reunion. You’re never gonna see him again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Alec van den Berg is the lying, cheating motherfucker who got you involved in all this, that’s why. He’s on his way to get what’s coming to him. And from this moment on, you’re out of this goddamned deal.”

  “Wait,” I say, feeling a little irritated. Because he’s treating me like I’m a child. “I thought I was some kind of assassin.”

  “You are, but—”

  “And my right hand is actually a sniper rifle hidden somewhere in your bedroom.”

  “Christine—”

  “And I’m not ten years old anymore so—”

  “Will you just fucking hear me out for once?”

  “—if I want to get involved, I will.”

  We stare at each other.

  “I will,” I repeat.

  He shrugs. “What can I say? The answer is no.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  He steps forward and pokes me in the chest. Hard. I swipe his hand away. But he grabs both my wrists and holds them. Tight. “I’m the only guy you can trust. And the fact that I refuse to take advantage of you tonight should be all the proof you need. Because believe me, if you were with Alec right now, sure as fuckin’ shit he wouldn’t give you that same respect.”

  “I’m not asking you for respect, Fortnight. All I wanted was a goddamned kiss. All I wanted was a fuckin’ hug, OK? So you can shove your respect up your ass because all you gave me was rejection.”

  He lets out a long breath of frustration.

  “And I think…” I say. “I think that’s typical of you.”

  He lets go of my wrists and pushes me backwards at the same time. “That’s because you don’t remember anything.”

  “So when that memory comes back I’m gonna feel different, Danny? I’m gonna realize that you weren’t the one responsible for the long gap of time we’ve been separated?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “I don’t believe you. In fact,” I say, lowering my voice, “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say… I bet when Alec does get here he’s gonna have another perspective on that whole situation.”

  “Yeah, and it’s all gonna be lies.” He practically growls the words at me. “I’ve been telling you that for almost ten years, Christine. He’s a con man. I get that your memory is in the shitter right now, but surely that brain of yours understands what a con man is.”

  “Don’t talk down to me,” I snap. “I’m not a fuckin’ child.”

  “Then for fuck’s sake, act like a goddamned adult and hear the words coming out of my mouth.”

  “Why are you being such a dick? My fuckin’ head hurts, my brain feels like it’s got holes in it, and pretty much every muscle in my body feels like it’s on the other side of a really serious goddamned fight. I mean, Jesus Christ. All I wanted was a little comfort.”

  He threads his fingers through his hair as he sighs, frustrated with me. But I don’t care. I’m frustrated with him too. “Look,” he says. “Can we just… go to bed or something? Sleep this day off and talk this through tomorrow?”

  I look around his small apartment, then glance down the hallway at the single bedroom.

  “I’ll take the couch,” he says.

  Which is not what I was looking for. In fact, the thought of him and me sleeping in separate rooms tonight, so close, but still so far apart, just… I dunno. It’s just the last straw.

  I turn away, hot tears burning in my eyes. I don’t want him to see me cry. Something inside me says I don’t cry. Not even in front of Danny Fortnight.

  But I can’t help it. The tears run down my cheeks before I’m even done processing that part of my missing self. “You know what?” I say.

  “What?”

  “I missed you.”

  He huffs out some air. “I missed you too, Christine. More than you can ever imagine.”

  “And I don’t remember everything between then and now. But I know I love you. I know I’m happy to be here with you. And I know I’m not gonna make the same mistake I did when we fell apart.” I turn to face him and the moment he realizes I’m crying everything about him changes. His hard body, his severe stare, his tough exterior—all of it softens. “And I don’t want to sleep alone. I just… want you to hold me, OK? To be… whatever it is you are to me. Because right now, I need that. That’s all I’m asking for. So if you refuse to give in on that one request, I swear to God, Danny, I will never fuckin’ forgive you. I will—”

  “Fine,” he says. “No problem.” He covers the space between us in three long strides and then his arms are around me. Holding me tight. “I surrender, OK? I give in. We can share the bed. I’m here for you. You have to know that.”

  He lifts a stray strand of hair away from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. So I’m forced to look at him, except it’s not forced at all. I can’t take my eyes off him. I never want to take my eyes off him.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “What?” I say, sniffling as I wipe the tears away.

  “I’m just trying to protect us, that’s all.”

  “Us,” I say.

  “Us,” he says. “Me and you. Just because I’m not giving in to what you want tonight doesn’t mean I don’t want to. Doesn’t mean I never will.”

  “When will you?” I ask. “When Alec comes and tries to steal me away?”

  His eyes dart back and forth, scanning me again. “Why would he send me to get you, Christine?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he called me. He told me where you wer
e. He told me to go get you. Why? Why would he do that?”

  “To keep me safe?”

  “Or maybe… it was to get us both together in the same place again.”

  “To what end?” I ask. “To hurt us?”

  “That’s what he does best.”

  I can’t anymore. I just can’t deal. My shoulders slump and I bow my head and stare down at my bare feet. “Why does he have to be here for you to admit you love me?”

  “I don’t need him to admit that. I love you.”

  “Then why—”

  “Because the timing is wrong, OK? Just… just heal a little. Let your memory come back. Let me figure out what’s going on. Put together an escape plan. We’ve got all the time now.”

  “That’s such a fuckin’ lie. There’s people after me. You too. I don’t know how you control yourself. How can you not want to take everything you can as quick as possible before the fucking timer runs out? We could be dead tomorrow—”

  “We won’t be,” he says, brushing the back of his fingers against my cheek. “We’re a team, Keene. The best team there is. We’ve passed all the tests. We’ve crossed all the finish lines. This is just a victory lap as far as I’m concerned. One last task before we take the trophy and go the fuck home.”

  I draw in a deep breath, hold it for five seconds, and then let it out. “Yeah,” I say. “Let’s just go to bed and kick this world’s ass tomorrow.”

  He leads me down the hallway to the bedroom. Points to the bed and takes off his shirt.

  Jesus.

  My eyes start at his shoulders and follow every curve—every hill and valley of muscle—as they travel down his body. Linger on the tattoos that run the length of his arms. Pause to watch him unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants, and drag the zipper down as he kicks off his boots and steps out of his jeans. He stands there for a few seconds trying not to grin as I study the way his boxer briefs hug the corded muscles of his thighs.

  “Now get in and scoot over. I’m gonna hold you all fuckin’ night, OK? Never let go once.”

  I sigh, then do as I’m told.

  Because the moment the comforter flops over us and his arms gather me up, everything is right in my world.