The Real Thing. Brenda Jackson

home in the a.m. Will call you then.

      Adrian frowned. If Trinity thought that message satisfied him, she was wrong. Who required anyone to work on their days off? There were labor laws against that sort of thing. And if Belvedere had ordered her to do so then the man had gone too damn far.

      There was a knock on his office door.

      “Come in.”

      Dillon stuck his head in. “I’m leaving early. Bailey’s watching the kids while Pam and I enjoy a date night.”

      His cousin must have seen the deep scowl on Adrian’s face. He stepped into the office and closed the door behind him, concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong with you, Adrian?”

      Adrian stood. Agitated, he paced in front of his desk. It was a few moments before he’d pulled himself together enough to answer Dillon’s question. “I hadn’t heard from Trinity in over a week and was concerned since I knew Belvedere had seen us together that night at dinner. She texted me a few moments ago. The man ordered her to work on her days off. She’s worked ten days straight, Dil. Can you believe that?”

      Before Dillon could answer, Adrian added, “I’ve got a good mind to go to that hospital and beat the hell out of him.”

      “I think you need to have a seat and think this through.”

      The hard tone of Dillon’s voice had Adrian staring at him. And then, as Dillon suggested, he sat. “I’m sitting, Dillon, but I still want to go over to that hospital and beat the hell out of Belvedere.”

      “Sure you do. But I’m telling you now the same thing I told you the day you came home after whipping Joel Gaffney’s behind. You can’t settle anything with a fight.”