CHAPTER ONE
Quinn Jordan was one-third of the triplet Jordan brothers. River and Finnegan, his brothers, were identical in every way. The three brothers often confused teachers, friends, and even on occasion their own parents.
The brothers trained relentlessly with their peers, parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents, knowing that they would one day become SEALs like their family members.
All three of the Jordans were fiercely protective of their friends, family, and those who could not protect themselves. Finn once refused to allow a known kill-shelter to get to the animals by changing the locks on the kennels. When his family got wind of it, via his brothers, they went to the shelter, rescuing all of the animals and finding them homes.
They then promptly shut the shelter down when the owner refused to accept assistance for a larger shelter with donations of food and medical treatments given by the animal sanctuary of Belle Fleur.
But for Quinn, it caused him physical pain to see the weak, the small, those unable to defend themselves, being abused.
Being overseas taught him that he had to control his urges to help everyone. Some countries didn’t see women as anything of value. They were treated as animals, beasts of burden, and had he stepped in, he would have endangered the entire team.
In time, Quinn always got his revenge and spent more than his fair share of pay in relocating women and families to safe countries. His brothers always helped when they could but it was the big-hearted Quinn that seemed to attract them like bees to honey.
“River!” yelled Finnegan running toward his brother. They’d finished baseball practice and Quinn wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “River!”
“What? I’m right here, stop yelling,” he said as Finn stopped in front of him.
“You need to come quick. It’s Quinn.”
River followed his brother knowing that Quinn wasn’t in any trouble. He was obscenely strong and quick, most adults unable to keep up with him. But Quinn’s heart usually got him into trouble.
“What’s wrong?” said River running next to his brother.
“Old man Talbot picked up Brian again.”
“Damn. He’s drunk?” asked River.
“As ever. I’ve called Dad and notified the coaches but the coaches are scared of him too. He beat the shit out of Brian for missing that play at second.”
“Shit,” he muttered slowing as he saw Quinn, with Brian behind him on the ground.
“Get out of the fucking way you little bastard!” growled the drunken man.
“Mr. Talbot, you’re not yourself, sir. I’m sorry but I can’t let you take Brian right now. You’ve been drinking and you’ve hurt him bad.” Quinn could hear the boy behind him, his breathing clearly indicative of at least one broken rib, if not more.
“You little fucker! You and your rich parents aren’t gonna tell me what I can do with my kid.”
“Mr. Talbot, please sir. We’ve called the police,” said the coach.
“You weasel! You fucking weasel!”
The coach stepped back knowing he didn’t want to tangle with the man. He wasn’t big in a muscular way but big in the way a man gets from hard labor, hard life, and hard fighting.
Talbot started to come toward Quinn when River and Finnegan stood beside him. The boys were impressive. Easily six-three or -four, over two-hundred pounds, and trained as well as anyone could be.
“Talbot you take one more step toward my boys and you’ll regret it,” said Patrick. Christopher, Ham, Ethan, and Mo were right beside them. “You’re drunk and you’re not going to touch that boy again.”
“My kid. I can do whatever the hell I want,” he snarled.
“No, you can’t. The law is pretty clear about that. You won’t be touching your boy again,” said Ham. “Brian? You okay son?”
“C-can’t breathe,” he gasped.
“Can’t breathe,” mocked his father. “You little pussy! Fucking no good piece of shit. All you do is cause me grief. You’re nothing. Nothing!”
They all stood their ground as Ham and Ethan knelt next to the young man, checking the damage done by his father. Although the primary pain at the moment were his ribs, his face was a mess. The beefy hands of the old man had done a number on poor Brian.
