Sinful Longing (Sinful Nights, #3)(14)

“How much green did you bring home last year?” Rex asked.

Colin laughed, shaking his head, as the younger man landed a shot.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No. I’m not going to tell you. But I will say this: my portfolio of companies had a twenty-four percent return, and that’s well ahead of the stock market, and it’s also ahead of the twenty percent benchmark for a venture capital firm, so there you go. Plus, one of the early seed startups I invested in five years ago went public, and my firm netted a beautiful profit from that sale. A thirty times return.”

Rex’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs, and Colin chuckled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. That money goes back into the portfolio. So we can invest in more companies,” he explained, dribbling the ball. Rex was eighteen and headed to community college. He didn’t know what he wanted to major in, and Colin was hoping he’d lean toward business. He had some innate interest in it. He just needed a push to see the value in the long term.

“But that’s your goal, right?” he asked.

“You got it. Find the diamond in the rough. Bet big on it before anyone else does. Grow it and watch it turn into a money tree.”

Rex waved his arms enthusiastically. “Oh man, I want a money tree. I want a big, fat money tree that grows greenbacks all year round. Ty, let’s go grow us a money tree.”

“Yeah, right, in the concrete pit at our crappy apartment complex,” Tyler said with a snort from his spot on the sidelines.

“Hey! Watch it. We’ll move up someday.” Rex turned back at Colin and pointed his thumb at Tyler. “I gotta look out for him. Mom’s working too many jobs. She’s never around.”

“That’s why she makes sure you’re here instead of wandering the streets,” Colin said, passing the ball to Rex. “And if you study business, you’ll have a hell of a better shot at growing a money tree than you would by chasing after some get-rich-quick scheme. Invest, nurture, grow, make more. That’s what I do. That’s my job. That’s my passion.” He held out his arm, showing the tattoo there. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.

Rex tucked the ball beneath his elbow and walked closer to see.

“Hey, Rex. I’m hungry,” Tyler interjected.

“Give me a second, Ty. I’ll make you mac and cheese when we get home. My man Colin is training me to be a venture capitalist. Get over here and join us.” Rex turned his attention back to Colin’s ink. “So that’s your mission at work or something? Nothing ventured, nothing gained?”

“Yeah, but in life, too. Means more to me than just work.”

“Like what?” Rex asked.

“It means take big chances. It means stay away from drugs,” Colin said, talking bluntly to the boys as he always did.

Rex sneered. “What do you know about that, Mr. Richie Rich? You probably bathe in Cristal.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Dude. You think I was born rich? You think I was rolling in cash as a kid? Wrong,” he said, as if he’d just slammed a buzzer on a game show. “My family was f*cked up, and I was the most messed up of them all. Painkillers, tequila, and speed in college. I was a mess. All this,” he said, gesturing to his arms, covered in ink, “they’re my reminders. Eight years clean.” He pointed to the art on his body, naming each one. “Lotus, new beginning. Sunburst, truth and bravery. This Chinese character—it’s for strength.”

Rex raised his chin and peered at an infinity symbol with four interlocking circles on Colin’s wrist. “What’s that one?”

“Me and my brothers and sister. The four of us. Our unbreakable bond, no matter what.”

“That’s like us,” Rex said, patting his arm where the sleeve of his T-shirt hit.

“What do you mean?”

Rex pointed to his little brother. “Him. I always look out for Tyler. That’s why I have this.” He pulled up his sleeve to his shoulder. At first Colin saw only a few letters of the word protect. His hackles rose, remembering what Ryan had told him a week ago. The guy who’d been following Shannon around had some ink on his arm that said Protect Our Own—the tattoo of the Royal Sinners.

Colin spoke sharply. “Do not even. That better not be what I think it is.”

Rex furrowed his brow. “Way to freak out, dude. What the f*ck do you think it says?”

“That better not be Protect Our Own.”

Rex laughed deeply, clutching his belly, letting the sound resonate through him. “No. No. No,” he said, catching his breath. “No way. No how. Our ink says Protector. We got ours together.” Rex stepped closer to Colin and showed him the full wrap of the word around his bicep. Tyler yanked up his shirtsleeve, displaying matching ink.

“I would whip him good if he messed around with that gang.” Rex draped an arm around his little brother.

“Whew,” Colin said, wiping his hand across his brow in exaggerated relief.

“I saw some of them a few blocks away the other day.”

“Here?” Colin asked, pointing to the basketball court.

Rex nodded. “Nearby. We made sure they didn’t come any closer.”

Colin didn’t like the sound of gang members hovering so close to the community center. He was well aware that it was a risk—this center was located in a section of town that had been a hot bed of crime years ago, but the surrounding neighborhood was improving now. Still, he wanted the center, the kids, and Elle as safe as could be.