Conrad and Lucas can’t deny their attraction toward each other. When someone targeting Lucas’s father pulls Lucas into danger as well, Conrad will do whatever it takes to keep Lucas safe.
Chapter One
Releasing
a shaky exhale, Lucas gazed over the audience. There were a lot of people here. More than he thought would turn out. Every
seat in the auditorium was filled, and more people lined the back wall and
crowded the floor. It kicked up his nerves, despite the fact that no one was
there for him. They were gathered to hear his father speak and say what many of
them hoped, that Arthur Hartman would be running for senator representing the
State of Florida.
He
glanced at his father, standing behind the podium at the front of the stage,
his baritone voice carrying through the auditorium as he delivered his ideals,
his beliefs, his hopes for the future. Lucas knew everything his father stood
for; they were the same beliefs he held, wanting a world where compassion ruled
more than money, where people cared for and helped each other, the planet, and
all her inhabitants. They both wished for a world in which equality and
acceptance ruled before judgment and scorn, and
where those in power understood they were in that position because of the trust
people had placed in them.
Idealistic?
Sure. Some would even say innocent, naïve. But wasn’t it better to strive for
an idealized greater good? While it might be unattainable, in the act of trying
to reach it, change for the better would still happen.
His
father had already taken steps to create change with his renewable energy
company, Green Hart. The company specialized in engineering and manufacturing
products for green energy, solar, hydro, and wind. His father had started the
company manufacturing solar panels for businesses and private homes, then his
father decided, why stop there? Within thirty years, he had created one of the
greatest powerhouse corporations in the United States—if not the world—for
renewable energy, and employed hundreds of people.
Challenges
and creating change were nothing his father hadn’t faced before, but this was
different. He couldn’t believe it when his father told him he was running for
government. He hadn’t understood why his father would take on such a thing. But
as his father said, there was only so much that could be done in the private
sector to enact change, when the leaders of the country seemed more concerned
about who was lining their pockets.
He
couldn’t argue that, but he wasn’t sure it was the best move for his father.
Being in government could be dirty, and that was never how his father had done
any kind of business. He understood his father wanted to push for the things he
believed in from the other side of the fence, but he worried about the
obstacles—and threats—his father faced.
Those
threats were the true reason behind why Lucas was clasping his hands to hide
the trembling. That morning, a call came through his father’s cell phone, an
unknown and disguised voice telling Arthur Hartman to back down, drop his run
for the Senate, and go back to quietly running Green Hart. Although, his father
never had been all that quiet in running his business. Regardless, it made him
less of a threat to some…perhaps many…than taking a step into government.
His
father had laughed, saying, “Why should I be afraid of anyone who hides their
identity and disguises their voice? I’m not one to be cowed before cowards.”
Lucas
scanned the crowd. He didn’t think whoever was behind the threats was a coward.
He thought they were serious. And they could be there now, hidden among the
crowd.
His
father’s voice boomed through the auditorium, murmurs of approval following his
words as the people became entranced with what he was saying, their excitement
rising with his father’s statements.
“I
don’t need to boast about my accomplishments or the things I’ve done. We’re
part of this community together. I see faces I recognize out there, my friends,
my employees.” A few cheers from people at being acknowledged hooted throughout
the crowd. Arthur pointed to a middle-aged man standing in front. “Ralph, I
remember when we got your house set up with solar panels. And I remember too
when you came back, laughing and showing me a check from the electric company,
because your home was producing not only enough energy to sustain itself, but
to start turning back your meter and feed energy into the grid.”
“I
still get those checks!” Ralph shouted, people laughing and a few more cheers
following his statement.
“And
that’s a good thing! At least, I say it is. There are others who don’t believe
the same. Who don’t believe in much of anything that I’ve said here today. But
what I’ve said, what we’re here for today, are the values of us in the real
world, in this community.”
Lucas
could sense the charged energy in the room. Everyone was in key with his
father, hanging on his words, their support and belief palpable. It was
infectious. Of course he believed in his father, but standing here listening to
him, he was overcome with pride, as well. This was a man whose footsteps he’d
always wanted to follow in.
“They’re
the values of us who live in more of this world, than those who stay tucked
away behind the closed walls in Washington D.C.,” Arthur continued. “And I want
to take our values to the capital. I want to throw open the doors and show them
what really matters to the people. And I want to do it with your support as the
next senator for this beautiful State of Florida!”
The
crowd erupted with cheers and chants for Arthur Hartman.
Lucas
let out a relieved breath. It was over. The rally was finished and nothing bad
had happened. Maybe the threat had been hollow after all.
His
father made a quick move, turning to glance back at him, smiling…and flinched
hard. His smile wavered and faded. He looked down at the left side of his
chest. A small, wet dark stain was growing larger on his father’s immaculate
light gray suit.
Lucas
sprang forward, lunging toward him. “Dad! Get down!”
He
jumped for him, throwing his father to the ground. The wind whistled by his
right ear as he tumbled to the floor with his father. An impact pinged into the
metal sign behind the podium, featuring the silhouette of a green stag,
standing proud. Hitting the floor, Lucas glanced up and back at the bullet hole
in the sign.
Chaos
exploded through the auditorium. The guards leaped into action—finally—one
grabbed Lucas’s arm and hauled him up. Two more collected his father, the rest
forming a human shield around them both as they ushered them backstage. Once
cleared from the auditorium, they laid his father on the floor, one guard
tearing at the suit jacket and shirt to get at the wound beneath.
Horror
froze Lucas. He stared at the wound, blood flowing freely from it. His father’s
face was already pale, and the sight snapped Lucas out of his shock. He ripped
off his own suit jacket, wadding it into a ball and pressing it over the
gunshot wound. “Hold on, Dad. It’s going to be all right. An ambulance is
coming.”
His
father lifted his hand, finding Lucas’s, and gripped it. “See? I told you
whoever that scumbag was…that he was a coward. Wasn’t even man enough…to show
himself.”
Lucas
forced a smile for him. “Yeah, you were right. You always could see right
through people, even when they don’t show themselves. But don’t worry about
him, don’t even think about him. He’s not worth it.”
Closing
his eyes in a long blink, his father moved his head in the smallest of nods.
“But as soon as I’m on my feet again…I’ll be out there…showing them…” His voice
hushed, but rather than making him sound weaker, Lucas heard steeled
determination.
Bowing
his head, Lucas closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to lose him. He couldn’t, not
like this. His father had to pull through and when he did, he would make sure
his father was safe…somehow.
Chapter
Two
Conrad
let his rental sedan roll to a stop and looked at the home beyond the tall,
ornate steel gates. The long drive coursed between trimmed hedges, which was
stupid. If someone made it over the gates and wall, the hedges—four feet tall
and dense—would make perfect cover for a surprise attack. The victim would be
rolling along, relaxed and feeling safe at being home, then…bang! Bullet
through the window.
He
scanned up the columns on the sides of the gates, one of them mounted with a
security camera which was fixed in place. It didn’t look like the rest of the
wall had cameras or any other security device. Why the hell did people think
bad guys always came through the front door?
He
assessed it all in under two minutes and it was obvious the grounds weren’t
secure. He didn’t have high hopes for the rest of the place. Chances were
there’d be a standard security system. With the size of the place and knowing
his client had deep pockets, it’d probably be one of the better systems, but
still standard issue and easily bypassed for any upper-level criminal.
Turning
to the passenger seat, Conrad tipped up his sunglasses and flipped open the
folder on the seat to a photo of his new client, Arthur Hartman. Fifty-eight
years old, founder and owner of the Green Hart Corporation, world leader in
clean energy and renewable energy. Had a major facility outside Naples and was
one of the main employers in the area. All in all, there wasn’t much dirt on
the guy. He appeared nearly as squeaky clean as the energy he was developing.
Early in his business, he had some…connections,
but had a good reputation with them now.
Conrad
flipped the page to the next sheet. Personal life…it didn’t seem Hartman had
much of one. He was a widower, his wife, Lisa, having passed ten years ago from
a brain aneurysm. Supposedly. It
might not be right for him to suspect anything shady, but he knew human nature
too well to not.
Hartman’s
closest relative was his son, Lucas, twenty-eight years old, having recently
returned from living up north in Cambridge, Massachusetts where he had attended
MIT, graduating with a PhD in environmental engineering; when he’d gotten his
Bachelor’s he made sure to minor in business management. He hadn’t dug up much
information on the son, but he wasn’t the client. He could gather more
information on him while working the job, if he thought it was necessary. His
gut told him the son wasn’t behind the attempt on Hartman’s life, but he wasn’t
ready to rule him out, either.
He
finished skimming the file and closed the folder. Cranking the wheel, he turned
the car into the drive. He stopped in front of the gates and leaned out of the
window to hit the call button on the intercom. A moment later, a woman’s voice
came through.
“Hello,
how may I help you?”
“Conrad
Dane. I’ve got an appointment with Arthur Hartman.”
Silence
followed, then the woman’s voice spoke again. “I’m sorry, Mister Dane, your
appointment isn’t until tomorrow.”
“I’m
nothing if not punctual. Is Hartman here or not?”
Her
voice more terse, the woman said, “Just a moment, please.”
Conrad
sat back in the driver’s seat to wait, drumming his fingers on the steering
wheel. He knew his appointment was tomorrow, which was why he showed up today.
When people were prepared and had plenty of time to get their game face on, it
was easier for them to keep their secrets. Do the unexpected with them and it
made it more likely they’d fumble. Stranger things had happened than someone
setting up a “hit” on themselves to gain an outpouring of emotional support
from people, and he didn’t need to waste his time on that kind of bullshit.
The
gates rattled and began to slide open. Conrad drove through and toward the
two-story mansion. It was a pretty swanky joint. White, with wooden beams as
accents, and wood shutters that looked ornamental, rather than functional.
Black panels covered the roof, for solar energy he guessed, given the client’s
job. Roses, decorative shrubs, and other flowers lined the front of the
mansion. In the center of the circular drive was a small pond with an old
fashioned water wheel turning and churning the water. Grass sloped up to the
pond, small trees lined it, making it seem like a picture from colonial times.
He couldn’t see around the back of the house, but he knew from its location and
from viewing it on Google Maps, it was on the coast, had a nice view of the
gulf, and a large pool.
Parking
to the side of the walk leading up to the front door, Conrad switched off the
car and stuffed the folder into his black backpack. He opened the door and climbed
out. Bounding up the steps, he spotted a security camera perched in the left
corner of the porch, peering down at the space before the door. Easily spotted,
easily avoided.
He
didn’t get a chance to knock before the door opened. A short, middle-aged woman
stood on the other side. She regarded him with pale blue eyes through small
glasses. “Mister. Dane, I presume?”
“You
should’ve verified that before presuming
and opening the door, but yeah.” He reached into the inner pocket of his black
leather jacket, drawing out an ID card and flashed it at her.
Her
lips turned down in a frown, clearly not amused by him or his statements.
“Fine, then. Come in. I’ll show you to Mister Hartman.”
Conrad
stepped in and to the side, giving the woman time to close the door. He made a
quick assessment of the room. Open and spacious, decorated in neutral colors.
Pretty little decorative items dotted the space. Hanging on the walls were
expensive modern art paintings that in his opinion, a kindergartener with
finger paints could put to shame. Not really his tastes, but it fit with the
classic image that so many of the upper crust strove to fulfill.
The
woman turned from the door, her strides slow but confident as she took the
lead. “This way. I’m Nancy, and I manage the household. Mister Hartman informed
me that you would be staying here for the duration of your…service.”
“That’s
right. Easier to keep him alive if I’m not sitting in a hotel waiting on room
service.”
She
glanced back at him, that disapproving frown on her lips. “You seem rather
cavalier about the task you’re charged with.”
Conrad
rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “If you’re going to get shot at, might as well
keep a sense of humor about it.”
Her
voice tight, as though she was putting effort into not snapping at him, Nancy
said, “No one thought it was very funny that Mister Hartman was nearly killed.”
“I
don’t know. I think I’d laugh at the guy who took the shot for missing. But
that’s probably more of two peers ribbing each other. From your point, I can see
where it’d be bad if your bread and butter got toasted.”
Nancy
stopped and spun toward him. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”
“Nancy.”
The baritone voice came from a nearby room and to the left, and though the
single word wasn’t spoken harshly, it carried authority.
Giving
Conrad one last glower, Nancy turned and continued into the room. She stopped
past the doorway. “Mister Hartman, here is Mister Dane.”
Conrad
passed through the doorway. Arthur Hartman was tucked down in a plush, brown
suede recliner, facing a large TV where a golf match was on the screen. Conrad
barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Golf…nothing like wasting a beautiful
afternoon by playing fetch with yourself.
Arthur
Hartman looked much like his photo, the dark brown of his hair mostly overcome
by gray, but still thick. He had a handsome, strong face, and hadn’t shaved
that morning. His face had more lines and was paler than in the photo. Nearly
having their life wiped out tended to do that to most people.
At the
back of the room, windows running floor to ceiling overlooked an in-ground
pool, and beyond to the beach and gulf. The foamy water rolled lazily onto the
shore, then washed gradually back. It sent yearning through him to be on the
beach in front of his house. But he could only lounge in the sun for so long
before he got the itch to get on the move again. Though, that urge was growing
less and less these days.
Conrad
put his attention on the only other person in the room, a young man standing in
front of the windows, his back to him and the sunlight framing his lean
silhouette. Had to be Lucas Hartman, doing his sonly duty in tending his
wounded father. Having him close would turn out to be handy in noticing
anything suspicious with him.
Lucas
glanced over his shoulder, meeting Conrad’s gaze. His crystal blue eyes widened
in surprise and his gaze traveled down Conrad’s body.
Conrad
felt a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. If Lucas did have nefarious
intent toward his father, he’d learn about it within a day. The guy wasn’t good
at masking what he was feeling, such as in that moment, finding him attractive.
And he couldn’t deny, the feeling was mutual.
Lucas
was shorter than him, he’d guess him to be about five foot nine to his six one.
His dark brown hair was swept back, longer on top than on the sides. Lucas’s
facial features were soft and achingly pretty, full lips, high cheekbones,
thick, dark lashes framing his blue eyes. He wore a red T-shirt with the
lightning bolt symbol for the Flash on it, and that did make Conrad’s lips
crack into a grin. A good boy who like a good guy superhero. He definitely
wouldn’t be Lucas’s type. Still, the job just got a lot more interesting.
“Mister
Dane,” Arthur said, bracing his right hand on the arm of his chair to push
himself up. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
Conrad
swept by Nancy, moving to meet Arthur. “No need to get up, Mister Hartman. I
know you’re still recovering.” He extended his hand down to him. “It’s good to
meet you.”
Arthur
took his hand, his grip strong…and forced to be so. Conrad could read it in
every move Arthur made that he was still suffering from the gunshot.
“And
you, as well.” Arthur motioned toward the young man. “This is my son, Lucas.”
Hearing
his name seemed to spur Lucas out of staring at him and he moved forward. He
reached for Conrad’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Conrad
took his hand, Lucas’s grip more tentative than his father’s, his hand softer,
smaller, but pleasantly filling his own. He held Lucas’s hand for a few seconds
longer than needed, meeting his gaze and allowing a grin to slip onto his lips.
“I doubt that. No one actually thinks it’s nice to meet me. Still, the words
are appreciated.”
A
slight smile touched Lucas’s lips. He broke their held gaze and turned to sit
on one of the sofas that ran parallel with the recliner at the head.
Arthur
glanced toward Nancy. “Would you please bring some refreshments for us and our
guest?” He looked at Conrad. “What will you have to drink, Mister Dane?”
“You
can call me Conrad, and a beer would be great.”
Lucas
shot him a reproachful look. “So you like to drink when you’re on the job?”
Stepping
around the corner of the sofa opposite Lucas, Conrad dropped down onto the
thick cushions. “No, I don’t. But since I’m not planning on shooting anyone in
the next few hours, I think I’m good having a beer.”
Lucas
fixed him with a hard glare.
Conrad
smiled back at him.
Arthur
cleared his throat. “I think we could all use a beer. If you would, please,
Nancy?”
Nancy
bobbed her head in a single nod and left the room.
“Nice
place you got here,” Conrad said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone who’s all about
green energy to have a place this big. Probably leaving quite the carbon
footprint, aren’t you?” He caught how Lucas twitched forward, ready to
retaliate, but Arthur spoke before him.
“I can
see how it would look that way, but this house is self-sustaining, powered by
solar and hydro energy. Solar does most of the job, but I’m sure you noticed
the water wheel out front. Its purpose is more than to look pretty. The water
is on a continuous rotation that feeds into the electrical system to the house.
We also have geothermal heat, not that it’s needed often here.”
“I
stand corrected, then. Not often I meet a man who spouts off his ideals and
actually lives by them.”
“What’s
the point in having beliefs and ideals if you’re not going to live by them?”
Lucas asked.
“Oh, I
don’t know. A little thing called do I as say, not as I do. For a lot of
people, presenting the image of those ideals is nothing but a means to get them
what they want; money and power. Example being, most politicians.” Conrad
turned his head toward Arthur, giving him a pointed look.
“You’re
not wrong in that assessment, but it’s my goal to break the typical mold.”
“And
that’s probably why someone wants to break you.”
Silence
followed his statement.
Conrad
took in both Lucas’s and Arthur’s reactions. Arthur lowered his gaze, his
expression pensive, saddened, but unafraid. Lucas’s fear, however, was clear,
and it was focused on his father. Fear and worry all but emanated from him.
Conrad sat back, bringing one leg up to rest his ankle on his opposite knee.
Yeah, Lucas was innocent of this…and probably was in a lot of other ways, too.
The
final thought brought all kinds of possibilities flashing through his mind.
Nancy
returned carrying a tray holding three bottles of beer, a large bowl of
tortilla chips, another bowl of salsa, and a third of queso. She placed it on
the coffee table between the sofas.
“Wow,
you’re good,” Conrad said, grinning up at her.
She
gave him another scowl and turned to leave, Arthur calling, “Thank you,” after
her.
Conrad
sat forward, grabbing his beer and swiping a chip through the salsa. “I don’t
think she likes me.”
“She’s
protective of us and the home, that’s all,” Arthur said. “This has brought a
lot of stress and worry on her.”
Conrad
popped the chip in his mouth. “Figured. I don’t think you have to worry much
about as far as an attack here at home, which is a good thing because your home
security is shit. If they wanted to knock you off in private, you’d have been
dead by now. I have a feeling whoever is doing this, wants it public.”
Arthur
nodded solemnly. “That’s my feeling, also.”
Conrad
took a long drink of his beer. “Of course, that’s not to say their plan won’t
change. Especially since their first one failed, thanks to their incompetent
gunman.”
Lucas
snapped his head up, having not yet taken his beer. “Incompetent? He shot my
father and nearly killed him.”
“Exactly.
A competent gunman would’ve dropped him on the first shot.” Conrad looked at
Arthur. “From the report I read, you moved at just the right second so the
bullet went to the side of your heart, not through it. You were saved by pure
dumb luck. Rare when that happens, but also nice when it does. Had the gunman
aimed for your head, like he should’ve, when you turned, his shot would’ve gone
through your temple instead of the planned forehead hit.”
“He did aim for his head,” Lucas said. “On
the second shot.”
Conrad
brought his gaze to Lucas. “If you have to take a second shot, you’ve already
botched the job. Nine times out of ten, a second shot is too late, as it was
with your father.”
Lucas’s
jaw visibly clenched for an instant. “You seem to know an awful lot about
killing people.”
Conrad
held out both arms. “That’s my job.”
“Who
the hell are you exactly?” Lucas turned to his father. “Where did you find
him?”
Arthur
lowered his beer from taking a sip. “He came highly recommended.”
“By
who?”
“It
doesn’t matter. People I trust…” Arthur’s voice softened. “For this kind of
thing.”
Lucas
stared at his father, and Conrad could see he was trying to read him,
understand what his father meant. “I thought you said you were hiring
bodyguards.”
“That’s
what Mister Dane is.”
“You’ve
hired one man? That’s all?”
“Because
I’m all that’s needed,” Conrad interjected.
Slowly
taking his gaze off his father, Lucas focused on Conrad again. “So what are
you? A bodyguard? Or a hitman?”
Conrad
stretched his arms up and back, folding his hands behind his head. He saw
Lucas’s gaze flick down to his torso, then lock on his two guns, revealed in
his shoulder holsters with his jacket falling open. “I’m whatever I’m paid to
be.”
Lucas’s
jaw dropped slightly, then he turned on the sofa toward his father. “I don’t
agree with this. How do you know he can be trusted?”
“Because
I’m a professional, that’s why,” Conrad said.
“A
professional what?” Lucas pressed.
“He’s
a mercenary, Lucas,” Arthur spoke up. “He’s done some work for people I know.”
“And
you think he can protect you better than qualified bodyguards?”
Conrad
lowered his arms and sat forward, elbows on his knees as he looked at Lucas.
“Those qualified bodyguards didn’t do such a hot job a week ago, did they? I
can tell right now that you’re not real savvy to the dirtier business of the
world. The bodyguards in the black suits? All they’re good for is keeping back
the occasional nut job who gets the inkling in their head to throw a water
balloon at a public figure. Against the real bad guys, those bodyguards are a
joke. They were damn slow to react when your dad got shot, weren’t they? You
got to him before they even realized what was happening.
“While
I get you might not agree with my way of doing things, I’m here because your
dad made a contract with me and for the duration of that contract, I’m going to
keep him alive by whatever means necessary, and I don’t give a shit if you
agree with my methods or not. Something tells me the end result in having a few
more years with your dad is what really matters. So you’re going to have to
suck it up, buttercup, because I’m going to be around for a while.”
Lucas
gasped, his jaw fully dropping this time.
Conrad
flicked a glance at Arthur and found the older man smiling behind his beer as
he took another drink. And with that, he got the impression that Arthur thought
his son could use a little education in the world, too.
Lucas
turned to his father. “Dad, this isn’t right.”
Arthur
sat forward with a wince, taking a chip and dipping it into the queso. “Son,
there’s what’s right, and there’s what’s necessary. Sometimes they coincide,
sometimes they don’t. In this case, I believe with hiring Conrad, they do.
Hopefully, as you get to know him, you will, too.”
Lucas
stared at his father for a long moment, then shook his head and stood. He threw
another disapproving glance at Conrad and walked away, leaving the room.
Conrad
watched him go, his gaze dropping to Lucas’s ass, the jeans tight enough to hug
the rounded curves. He looked away as Lucas turned out of the room and sat
forward, taking another chip and dipping it in the salsa. “Cute kid you got there.”
Arthur
laughed softly, but the sound was full and deep. He put a hand on his chest to
the left, as if to steady the pain. “He’s a brilliant and good young man.”
Arthur paused, his smile fading. “But, your words about him being innocent
to…dirty business weren’t unfounded. I don’t want to say he’s been sheltered to
the world, but he’s spent a lot of time in school, pursuing his PhD. Gaining
knowledge behind the closed walls of academia can occasionally leave one naïve
to the world at large. Part of me wishes he could stay that way, but I know how
the world can take advantage of someone with as kind and generous of a heart as
he has. I’m afraid he’s getting a crash course now in the darker nature of
people.”
“Sometimes
that’s the best way to learn.”
“Yes,
sink or swim. He’s tenacious, so I know he’ll succeed. I think being around you
might actually be good for him.”
Conrad
let out a dry laugh and reached for another chip. “I’m not exactly the good
influence type of guy.”
“I
know. That’s why I said that.”
Glancing
toward him, Conrad saw the smile on Arthur’s face, and one came to his own. In
that moment, he knew they were going to get along well. He flicked his head
toward the TV. “Anything on besides these guys chasing after a little white
ball?”
Arthur
laughed and reached for the remote. “How about a bunch of guys chasing around a
bigger leather ball and tackling each other?”
“That
works.” Conrad reclined on the sofa, throwing a glance toward the doorway, but
disappointingly, Lucas hadn’t come back. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of
that, hoping to see the guy again, but now he was positive that Lucas being
involved would definitely make this job more interesting.
Copyright 2016 by S.J. Frost and MLR Press
