Trinity Warren settled back in the soft leather seat in the limousine as Carl, his chauffer, drove away from the television studio where he’d just finished taping an interview. After he had nearly been mobbed in the lobby by hundreds of young women vying for his attention, his heart beat, at last, returned to normal. He frowned. No doubt someone told them he would be there…possibly Lionel Kane, his publicist, notorious for pulling such stunts to build his popularity.
Tiny raindrops pelted against the windows as Carl maneuvered the huge black car onto the Interstate a couple of blocks from the television station, headed for Trinity’s mansion in Sarasota. How much more popular did Lionel expect him to be? His latest song, ‘Your Love has Found Me,’ sat at the top of the Billboard Chart and was rapidly climbing the UK charts. Quite frankly, the shredding and pulling of his clothes, and the girls shrieking at the top of their lungs when they saw him bored him to tears after sixteen years. If he never sang another song, he wouldn’t die broke thanks to his parents’ shrewd investment skills. He sighed. I’m so tired of it all.
The car left the bridge and traveled on a lone dark highway. The rain fell in bigger drops making it harder to see. Carl made the wipers go faster. The glass that separated them lowered.
“Please fasten your seatbelt, Trinity. The roads are getting slicker and your father will kill me if I let anything happen to you.”
“Yes, Carl.” Trinity fastened the belt around his waist and shoulders. The stately forty year old black man had been his driver for twelve years and knew him well enough to know that he hated wearing seatbelts. He sighed, figuring the chances of them getting into an accident were slim to none on the deserted road.
Something noisy rumbled behind them. Trinity tried to look out of the back window but was impeded by the seatbelt. A light beamed into the window.
“Damn motorcyclist,” Carl muttered as he raised the shield glass between them. The motorbike rolled past them so fast the driver appeared like a black blur in the side window.
Carl honked the horn.
Trinity straightened up and planted his back and butt firmly in the seat. The big limo swerved, startling him. His hands gripped the left door handle and the cup holder at his right. He heard a loud screeching of wheels and brakes, and then a crash and a loud thump. Carl gained control of the car and pulled it over. He lowered the shield again.
“Are you okay Trinity?” he asked nervously.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. What happened?”
“Some guy on a motorcycle turned wide in front of me.” He unfastened his seatbelt. “I couldn’t avoid hitting him.” Carl opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.
Trinity unhooked his seatbelt, pulled his red cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the emergency number. “Hello, this is Trinity Warren. There’s been an accident on Briar Highway. A motorcyclist slammed into us. Yes, my driver is out checking on him now. Can you send the police and an ambulance? Yes, we’re about a mile away from the Interstate exit near the Warren Estates.” He turned off the phone and put it back into his pocket before opening the car door and slipping out into the darkness and the rain.
Carl knelt beside the black-dressed motorcyclist. The motorbike lay in the middle of the road several feet from the rider.
“How is he?” Trinity looked around the area.
“He’s hurt pretty bad,” Carl explained. “Can you stay with him while I get some light and orange emergency cones from the trunk of the limo? We need to block off the road until help arrives.”
“I’ve called for the police and ambulance.”
“Good. Stay here with him until I get back. Damn, he’s about your age.”
“Bring a tarp,” Trinity called after Carl. “The poor guy’s getting soaked.” A strange tingly feeling went through Trinity as he looked down into the face of the injured motorcyclist. Gorgeous. He had a straight nose, full lips and a strong chin. Short jet black curls peeped out from beneath the helmet that possibly saved his life. Sooty black lashes dusted his upper cheeks like spiders webs. Carl returned.
Trinity looked down on the face again. The young man breathed laboriously as he drifted in and out of consciousness. “Where is that ambulance? They should be here by now.”
The young man moved and moaned. Trinity looked down again. The dark eye lashes fluttered. Why is my heart beating to fast? The lids slid back and confused gray eyes looked up at him. Oxygen left his brain and blood rushed to the head of his penis. Trinity groaned. The sight just stole his breath away.
The siren of the ambulance and police cars cut through the night and jettisoned him back to reality. Trinity rose and he and Carl waved their arms to get their attention. The police pulled over first, followed by the ambulance. The policemen got out of their cruiser with more orange reflector cones and placed them along the highway.
Two paramedics hopped out of the ambulance and ran over to them. One went down on his knee and gently removed the helmet from the young man’s head. Trinity groaned again. If he doesn’t stop looking at me like that I’m going to come in my pants.
The cyclist closed his eyes again.
“Is anything wrong Trinity?” Carl asked.
“No,” he answered quickly afraid Carl would see how the young man affected him.
“Okay then. I’m going over to talk to the police officers.”
“I’ll be right here.”
“It’s Brennan Demarcus,” one of the paramedics told the other.
Who is Brennan Demarcus? Trinity didn’t know. Brennan. The name suited him. One of the paramedics beckoned him closer.
“I need you to hold his head in your lap until I can fetch a brace from the ambulance. Do you think you can do this?”
Trinity nodded. “Yes.” He sat down on the wet ground ignoring the fact that his expensive white suit would be ruined. He gently put Brennan’s head into his lap. It landed directly on his aching erection. Trinity squirmed before settling down. Doing a good deed never felt so painful, he thought, absently stroking Brennan’s curls while he waited. His kind act was rewarded by the appearance of those startling dove gray eyes.
“Am I dead angel? Because if I am, it might not be so bad flying around the clouds with someone as lovely as you.”
Trinity gawked. The deep voice did not match the wounded soul.
“No you’re not dead.”
“You’ve got a very deep voice for a girl.” His eyes closed again before Trinity could explain. The paramedics returned and put Brennan in traction and put him on a gurney.
Trinity rose and watched as they loaded him in the back of the ambulance. “Who is Brennan Demarcus?” he asked one of them before they climbed back into the ambulance.
“He’s a famous motorcyclist. He competes all over the world.”
“Thanks.” He walked away from the ambulance and listened as they backed up and sped off to the nearest hospital in Sarasota. A famous motorcyclist?
Carl finished up with the police and a wrecker arrived to pick up Brennan’s bike. “I guess I better get you home. You’re soaking wet.”
Trinity shook his head. “Yes.” The sooner he could find out everything he could about Brennan Demarcus the better. He climbed into the limousine with Carl and they headed down the highway to his mansion.