Bittersweet Chocolate (41 page)

Marissa had arrived at the hospital a little after six o’clock. It was almost ten o’clock when the nurse came for her. On the way to the recovery room, the nurse explained Tristan’s injuries.

“Your husband is an extremely lucky man, and obviously in good physical condition. The bullet lodged in his back, just below his left scapula, the shoulder blade. He must have been bending over at the time of the shooting, and the bullet entered at an angle,” Miss Johnson said. “Here we are.” She stopped outside the recovery room door. “If you want more detail, the doctor will be in shortly to talk to you. Buzz if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Marissa pushed open the door and entered the room. Tristan, the only patient, lay unconscious, looking pale and vulnerable. She dropped down in the chair beside the bed, head bowed as tears trickled down her cheeks. This was her fault. Moments later, she snatched a tissue from the box on the bedside table, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and pulled herself together.

“Rissa?”

She surged to her feet and bent over him, cupping his face in her hands. She gently kissed his lips and the swelling around his right eye. “Tris, I love you. Don’t ever scare me like this again.”

He was asleep.

The doctor arrived and introduced himself as Doctor Alistair Rush. He repeated most of what Miss Johnson had told her, and went on to explain about the surgical procedure.

“How long will he have to stay here?” she asked.

“A day or two, barring any unforeseen complications.”

“Complications?”

“Fever, infection...but he’s in excellent physical condition, I’m not expecting either.”

Reassured Tristan wasn’t in any danger, she walked the doctor to the door. While keeping vigil, she made up her mind to follow through on her earlier tentative plan. She couldn’t wait for Tristan to get well enough to handle their problem. Hell. She came from the inner city, she was street smart, could handle a gun.

Seeing Tristan lying there looking helpless, the dormant gang mentality resurfaced. She’d tried her damnedest to change, and keep her promise to Graham, but Joel had gone too far, things were moving too fast. It was all too clear, what she had to do. Close the Joel chapter of her life, and soon.

At midnight she left the hospital. Turning onto her street―
what the
―besides Vi’s car, there were other vehicles parked in front of her house.

Damn it, the police, and more questions...uh-uh, the attempt on Tristan’s life negated her earlier inclination to involve the police. Sole responsibility for resolution was on her.

Pulling into the garage, she climbed out of her car, feeling old and tired, like she’d aged in the last couple of hours, and she wasn’t in the mood for the police. She entered the house from the garage through the laundry room and came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen doorway, paralyzed by the scene before her.

Vi and Kate were there, but so was Stephen Wells, three men and a woman she didn’t know, and all were staring at her.

Stephen stood and held out his arms. Geez. How could she have forgotten how big he was? Of course, she hadn’t seen him in person since she’d left Philadelphia, and pictures didn’t do his size justice. She went into his arms. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Your husband called me, an oversight on your part?”

“Until tonight, I thought I could handle everything.”

“Marissa...”

“No, Dad, listen. Tristan’s...” She stopped, glanced at the other occupants, and realized they were listening. Couldn’t blurt out Tristan had been shot and put her business in the street in front of strangers. “We need to talk, later.” She turned to the others. “Excuse my bad manners, I’m Marissa, and you are?”

The woman stood and approached. Marissa cringed when the woman hugged her, surprised by such a show of affection from a stranger. The woman dropped her arms and Marissa stepped closer to her dad, her gaze riveted on the woman.

She was petite, with cropped, jet-black hair interlaced with gray, and a nice face, actually a pretty face. Marissa frowned. The face seemed familiar, but the turquoise/aquamarine eyes...she knew who the woman must be, even before she spoke.

“I’m Clarisse Corbett. Honey, I’ve been up to see the babies. They’re adorable.”

Marissa stared, bemused. Her mother-in-law couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, if that. Tristan definitely didn’t get his size from his mother. She glanced over the woman’s head and watched the men approach. They were tall, one even taller than her father. Tempted to move closer to Stephen, she forced herself to stand her ground, tilting her head slightly to stare up at the three men.

The two younger men resembled Tristan, but she couldn’t hide her astonishment when she glanced at the third, older man. He could have been a Tristan double even though the eyes were more green than blue. But it was the white-blond hair cut a lot shorter than Tristan’s, features an exact replica down to the dimples, which made his resemblance a carbon copy. She stared from the man to the woman, total opposites in coloring and size, yet together they had produced all-over blond eye candy like Tristan.

The taller of the two younger men stepped forward. “Marissa, I’m Christopher, Tristan’s oldest brother.” He extended his hand, an indication the men didn’t intend to be as demonstrative as the woman had been. Marissa extended her hand, he grasped it, and held it while he introduced her to the other two. “This is our father, Daniel, and another of Tristan’s brothers, Anthony.”

She couldn’t drag her gaze away from Christopher. He was gorgeous, in a ruggedly handsome way, with hair darker than Tristan’s, more of a sandy blond, and he had mesmerizing steel-gray eyes. But beneath his striking good looks, she sensed a controlled menace, yet she didn’t fear him.

A few minutes passed before she thought to shake hands with the other two men and realized Christopher still held her hand. Easing her fingers from his grasp broke the inexplicable link she had experienced, and she turned to the other men, her hand extended.

The other brother, Anthony, had dark coloring like their mother, but with the most startling clear, cobalt-blue eyes, he had to be the heartbreaker, the player in the family. His long, jet-black hair had a tendency to curl, he had dimples and a cleft chin, obviously a family trait, and he had a smile that could melt the stoniest heart.

Marissa dragged her gaze away from Anthony and said politely, “I’m pleased to meet all of you.” Hell, knowing who these people were, how did she tell parents that someone had shot their youngest child? Stalling, she said, “I guess you’ve already met my father.” The Corbetts nodded.

“Okay, you’ll have to excuse me if I appear confused.” Her eyes narrowed. “Being, oh what’s the word? Oh yeah, being so reticent about getting to know me, you’re not aware of my tendency to be way too forthright.”

“Marissa...” Stephen gave her a warning glance.

Ignoring her father, she continued. “Try not to take offense, but why are you here? Until this moment, I believed you didn’t want anything to do with Tristan or me. You disregarded our marriage and didn’t acknowledge the birth of our children.” She eyed Tristan’s family with contempt. “What’s with the family togetherness, showing up here like you really give a shit?”

Vi and Kate stood nearby nodding their heads like judges at an inquisition. Clarisse seemed embarrassed, and the men had shuttered looks on their faces. Marissa turned to her father, who shrugged. Scanning faces, she remained quiet, waiting. She wanted an explanation.

Daniel Corbett cleared his throat and broke the silence. “It’s not easy changing beliefs after so many years, and it would be useless to apologize for our previous behavior, at this late date. But I’d like to offer an explanation.” He cleared his throat again.

“Tristan is our youngest, it took us by surprise. No, it was more like shock when we learned of his relationship with a black woman. Thought of it as a phase until he married you, then we recognized our mistake. It’s been a hard adjustment.

“When he called after the twins were born, Clarisse insisted we repair our relationship with him. Or lose him for good,” Daniel admitted with a look of appeal. “I realize our prejudices and beliefs, passed from one generation to another, well, they’re not Tristan’s.”

“Obviously,” Marissa retorted. “That doesn’t explain your sudden appearance.”

“Tristan called the other day, told us about the trouble you’ve been having. No matter what occurred between us, you and the babies are his family, which makes you part of ours,” Daniel stated. “Anyone trying to hurt you and the kids, hell, the consequences are to deal with the entire Corbett clan.”

Eyes narrowing, Marissa didn’t respond. Remaining skeptical, she scrutinized each of the Corbetts, until Vi turned her attention.

“Hey, since you have family here. I’m going home. Keep me posted.”

“Uh-uh. Vi, you’re family. You don’t have to leave,” she declared, not breaking eye contact with the Corbetts.

Vi hugged her and laughed. “Yeah, but it’s late, I have to work tomorrow,” she said aloud, then whispered, “Good stalling tactic.”

Marissa grinned. “Whatever works.”

“True, but girl, cut them some slack. They’re trying.” Vi turned to leave. Christopher insisted he’d see her to her car.

Regarding her friend with disbelief, Marissa watched a slight blush tint Vi’s cheekbones. For a moment, Marissa’s thoughts became whimsical as she watched miz cynical—no such thing as love, don’t need no man—leave the room with Christopher, a total stranger.

Shaking off her whimsy, she moved to the stove, picked up the teakettle, and waved away the housekeeper when Kate tried to intercede. “I’m okay, Kate, I can do this.”

Standing with her back to the room, she stared at the flame while she waited for the water to boil. Her mind an exhausted blank, it took a cold splash of reality to jolt her back to awareness.

“Marissa, where’s Tristan?” Stephen asked.

Damn. Was she that tired? She’d totally forgotten about the other people in the room. With her store of social etiquette maxed out, she went straight to the point. “Tristan’s in the hospital, he was shot―” Her voice tripped to a stop, startled by the Corbetts’ knee-jerk reactions.

Daniel and Anthony sprang to their feet, their stance defensive, expecting what. Christopher, reentering the kitchen, pulled up short like a puppet manipulated by invisible strings.

With the words said aloud, the memories of the shocking phone call and the ensuing hours of anxiety returned. Voices came at her from every direction, everybody trying to question her at once. She had to shout to get their attention.

“Wait a minute! He’s okay. I just came from the hospital, then finding all of you here...” Her voice faded away on a tired whisper.

Kate hastily intervened, silencing everyone. While she took over the task of fixing Marissa’s tea, she spoke over her shoulder. “Listen. I’ll explain everything, but for now, Marissa needs rest. She hasn’t relaxed much in the last couple of days.” Kate picked up the mug of tea and directed Marissa toward the door where she paused.

“I’m usually not such a wimp, but I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning. Kate will get whatever you need. Goodnight.” She left the room.

Voices exploded into the silence, everybody talking at once.

“Kate, I’ll be all right.” She took the mug from Kate’s hand. “I’m going to check on the twins, enjoy my tea, soak in a hot bath, then get some sleep. Prepare rooms for everybody.”

“Already taken care of it.”

“Good. I’ll see them at breakfast.” Halfway up the stairs, she said, “Kate, thanks.”

Inside her room, and dog-tired, Marissa changed her mind about a bath, undressed, had a quick shower, and crawled between the sheets. She called the hospital to check on Tristan and learned he had awakened asking for water, which reassured her.

She fell back on the bed, thinking she’d fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, but the shower must have revived her. Sleep eluded her. Instead of relaxing, she was restless, her mind running rampant with ideas about the break-in and the shooting.

What puzzled her, didn’t make sense, was why Joel had upped the ante. Why shoot Tristan? Joel wasn’t trying to shoot Graham, he’d intended to kill her. Graham stepped in the way. Joel could have killed Graham the night of the rape, if Joel had wanted to hurt Graham...uh-uh, something wasn’t right. These recent incidents weren’t Joel’s style, unless he realized hurting her family would destroy her. Or—
I’ll be damned!

She bolted upright, goosebumps sidling up her arms.
Suppose it isn’t Joel.
Wouldn’t that open up a world of endless possibilities? She leapt off the bed and started pacing. The thought seemed fantastic. No, wait. It couldn’t, could it.

Glancing at the clock, she groaned. Almost two in the morning, but the more she thought about her new idea, the more it made a twisted kind of sense. Damn it, how could she have been so clueless? If what she was thinking was true, there wasn’t any time to waste. She had a lot to do, with so little time, and she intended to take care of everything.

Resolved, she threw herself back on the bed, and within moments, fell asleep.

The tea remained untouched on the nightstand.

The noise finally penetrated. The dogs—
shit!

Marissa leapt out of bed, grabbed her robe, and was halfway across the room when someone knocked on her door. Kate entered carrying a tray and Marissa relaxed.

“Everyone is up and I’ve given them breakfast. They’re waiting to go to the hospital.” Kate set the tray down and rushed on. “I told them everything that’s been happening around here lately. I may have been a little harsh, nevertheless, they know how I feel about the way they’ve treated you and Tristan.” She paused for breath. “Sorry, if I overstepped my bounds.” Her smile angelic, Kate didn’t look the least bit apologetic.

Marissa laughed. “Kate, you’re wonderful. Tell them I’ll be down in a half hour.”

“I’ve fed and bathed Korey and Kristen. Clarisse helped.”

“Why are the dogs making so much noise?” Marissa asked, ignoring the comment about her mother-in-law.