by Xavier Mayne
Destination, Wedding!
By Xavier Mayne
A Brandt and Donnelly Caper: Case File Six
State troopers Ethan Brandt and Gabriel Donnelly are finally going to get their storybook wedding—sailing on an ocean liner to a castle in the English countryside! But when an Icelandic volcano scrambles flights all over the world, they must find alternate routes to the altar—separately.
Donnelly meets Sandler Birkin, a globetrotting courier who specializes in carrying rare artifacts and diplomatic pouches. He pulls a few strings to get Donnelly to the ship on time and then accompanies him across the Atlantic. Donnelly returns the favor by helping to find Sandler’s long-lost first love, Trevor Hendricks. Trevor’s controlling, homophobic parents have brought him to Europe for a radical treatment to cure him of his homosexuality—and his love for Sandler.
Brandt, meanwhile, finagles his way around the globe with the help of Kerry Mercer, a sales executive whose spirit of adventure leads her to accompany him on his improvised journey. However, sharing hotel rooms with her presents a problem for Brandt who, despite being about to marry a man, still finds her attractive.
Once Brandt and Donnelly are reunited, they band together with Kerry and Sandler to plot Trevor’s rescue. But doing so might mean missing their own wedding.
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
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Copyright
For J. Ours was the original destination wedding.
Acknowledgments
THANKS ARE due as always to that extravagantly indulgent first reader, George Schober, who helped me shape my longest book ever with his honest and meticulous feedback. I’ve learned over the years that if it works for George, it just works.
Chapter One
Saturday, Three Weeks until the Wedding
Prelude
GABRIEL DONNELLY rearranged the piles of laundry on the bed for the third time. “So, who are you going to be presenting to this time? And remind me why you’re going to San Diego while I’m stuck here where it won’t stop raining?”
“It’s a conference for trauma doctors,” Ethan Brandt answered. “And when I asked you if you wanted to go, you showed me a list of things you had to get done that was actually as long as your arm.”
Donnelly sighed. “It’s gotten longer since then, with the wedding just three weeks away.” But then he perked up. “You’ll be back before we need to fly to New York to get on the ship, right?”
“Absolutely. Fly out Wednesday, present Thursday, fly back Friday. We’ll pack up and head to New York Saturday so we can get on the ship Sunday morning. We’ll cruise across the ocean and land in the loving arms of every single member of both of our families—even the ones we can’t stand sitting next to at Thanksgiving—plus as many friends as we can stuff into a drafty castle in merry old England. We won’t have a moment to ourselves, plus we’ll have to smile endlessly because everyone has a camera, and we’ll do it all wearing kilts. Sounds like a festival of awesomeness, doesn’t it?”
“It all ends with us finally being husband and husband, and that’s all I care about,” Donnelly said with a smile. “The rest of it is just a bunch of details. Lots and lots of details.” He sighed again. “Hundreds of little details.”
“I know it seems like a lot of work, but what we’re doing is an immense task. Moving an entire wedding across an ocean, in the space of two months, is herculean. Wendell did a lot, and James has been amazing paying for it all and helping out, and Bryce and Nestor have pitched in all over the place, but the hardest parts of it have fallen to you. And you have kept calm and carried on, and you’ve been amazing.” Brandt kissed his fiancé on the nose. “And I love you for it. You’re my hero.”
“You’re just sweet-talking me because you’re guilty about running off to play with doctors in the Southern California sun.”
“Maybe a little. Honestly, I’d rather be here with you. But Greg worked really hard to set this up. If the ER docs who took care of Peter had been made aware of how to support gay and lesbian spouses, Greg might have been able to be with him when he died. It’s really important work.”
“I know, I know. I’m just being selfish, trying to have you all to myself.” Donnelly smiled as he dug deeply into the laundry basket. He pulled out a tiny bright red Speedo. “Taking this along to San Diego or saving it for the honeymoon?” He waggled the shiny bit of fabric at Brandt.
“Let’s say I’m saving it,” Brandt replied, rolling his eyes.
“All right, it goes in the honeymoon pile,” Donnelly sang happily.
“No, I don’t want to take it on our honeymoon,” Brandt said.
Donnelly looked crestfallen. “But you promised.”
Brandt leaned in close and whispered into Donnelly’s ear. “The pool at the Villa Hermes is clothing optional.” He stepped back to take in Donnelly’s shocked expression. “I opt for none.”
“Get over here,” Donnelly growled, yanking Brandt to the bed. “Packing can wait.”
Chapter Two
Thursday
Convention hall, San Diego
PUBLIC SPEAKING hadn’t come naturally to Brandt, but every time he walked to a podium in front of a large group of people, it got a little easier. As he stood half listening to his introduction to the hall full of trauma surgeons, he thought back to the first time Greg Sampson had asked him to speak on behalf of his organization.
It was a group less than a tenth the size of the one he now faced, and he was deeply terrified—as scared as he had been facing an audience of one, Nick, when he undressed for the first time during his undercover work in the frat-themed cam house. Standing before a couple of dozen public-school administrators to discuss how marriage equality was impacting child custody, he had felt just as naked, just as much an imposter. He had fumbled badly through his talk that day (Greg was too much of a gentleman to offer anything more critical than “you seemed a little nervous”) but every speech, every event since then had been a little easier.
For a long time—until recently in fact—his anxiety stemmed not from doubting his knowledge or his authority to speak on these issues, but from his discomfort at being introduced as one of the first openly gay officers on the state police force. Brandt’s inability to come to rational conclusions about his sexuality meant that any introduction that focused at all on his identity would always make him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He looked forward to the day when he would simply be able to say that he was Gabriel Donnelly’s husband and leave aside any consideration of what that said about his sexual identity. And that day would be here in a little more than two weeks, a thought that made him grin like a lovestruck goofball every time he thought of it.
“And now it is my great pleasure to introduce Officer Ethan Brandt, one of our state’s leading authorities on marriage equality and the changes it will bring—
is already bringing—to our country.” Though he had retired from the nightly newscast, Sampson’s voice was still deep and television-perfect. “And I am thrilled to be able to call him a dear friend. Please join me in welcoming Officer Brandt.” Sampson stepped to Brandt and shook his hand warmly, then stood aside as Brandt took the podium.
“Thanks, Greg, and thanks to all of you for inviting me to speak today.” Although his voice lacked the professional timbre of Sampson’s, Brandt sounded sure and confident. He took a deep breath, smiled to the group, and began his speech.
That evening, Brandt met Sampson in the hotel bar.
“Great job today, buddy,” he said as Brandt approached. He stood and hugged Brandt in welcome.
Hugging other men in public was another thing to which Brandt had not been accustomed when this adventure began, but he was now able to give Donnelly a run for his money in the public displays department. The men sat.
“Seemed like a good group,” Brandt replied. “And some of those questions—man, I was glad I’d done my homework on medical powers of attorney.”
“It showed they were listening and really taking you seriously,” Sampson said with a smile. “You just get better and better at this stuff.”
Brandt blushed, as he always did when anyone complimented him on anything. Somewhere underneath his tough exterior there would always be a puppy wagging its tail and begging for praise. “Thanks. I’ve learned from the best.” He raised his glass to Sampson, then sipped. “Whoa, that’s different.” He held the glass up and looked at it, then at Sampson. “What did you order for me?”
Sampson smiled. “A little something special. I know you like a whiskey sour in the evening, and the whiskey in this one comes from a shelf so high it can’t even be seen from the top shelf. It is the whiskey of the gods.” He grinned and sipped his own drink. “I am, of course, a scoundrel, plying you with pricey hooch because I have a favor to ask.”
Brandt set his drink on the table, shaking his head. “You don’t need to buy me off—I’d do anything to help you.”
“Well, this is a big one. I know you’re dying to fly back to Gabriel’s loving embrace, but I managed to get us some time at the ER directors’ postconference meeting. I’ve been after them all year to get a slot on their social issues track, but it’s only in the past few months that they seem to have realized that implementing marriage equality isn’t going to simply take care of itself once the law changes. All of a sudden, they are desperate to hear how to change their policies to stay ahead of potential issues, and they want to hear from us. From you in particular.”
“When is the gig?” Brandt asked.
“Saturday morning,” Sampson said with a bit of a wince.
Brandt nodded, a frown working its way onto his face despite his effort to hide it. “Gabriel will kill me. We’re supposed to be flying to New York on Saturday to get on the ship.”
“Which doesn’t leave until Sunday. I’ve already looked into the arrangements—your talk ends at ten in the morning, the limo takes you to the airport, and by noon you’re on a direct flight to New York. First class, I might add. Meet Gabriel there and have an amazing dinner in your suite at the most expensive hotel in the city. My treat.”
“I don’t think you realize the stress he’s been under, planning this wedding. My coming here for just a couple of days was already stretching things. Another one might just push him over the edge.” Brandt’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. As he glanced at the screen, he thought he caught a glimpse of Sampson looking guiltily away.
Brandt answered the call. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” Donnelly replied. “Did you send any of the trauma surgeons to the hospital with your heart-stopping charm?”
“Hardly. They were a good group, though. I think it made a real difference.”
“That’s my man, saving the world one speech at a time.”
Brandt took a deep breath. “So, Greg was just saying—”
“That he needs you to stay for another day. I know. He called me a little while ago.”
In the two-second silence that followed, Brandt’s heart sank and refused to beat.
“I swear, Ethan, you must make me out to be some kind of storybook evil queen. Of course you should stay. Think about how an enlightened ER administrator might have made Peter’s last hours better. Don’t even think of saying no.”
Brandt gave a sigh of relief. “Good God I love you,” he murmured into the phone. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
“Second luckiest. Now go be amazing, and I’ll see you in New York on Saturday. Greg’s booked us a suite with a whirlpool on a terrace overlooking Central Park. The use we will make of that is going to live in legend—on that you may rely.”
“Boing,” Brandt whispered.
“Then my work here is done. Keep that boner to yourself, mister. I shall require its service on Saturday. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Brandt said, then hung up and tried to both pocket his phone and adjust his growing erection to a more comfortable angle. It didn’t really work. Dammit, Gabriel.
“So…?”
“So Gabriel’s the sweetest guy in the world, and you know it. Of course he wants me to stay.”
Sampson smiled broadly. “My troopers come through again,” he said, raising his glass. “Now drink up. I ordered another round, and each of these costs as much the car I drove in college.”
They had finished their third round of the large, pricey cocktails when Brandt decided he had better head up now if he was going to have any chance of negotiating the elevator buttons successfully.
“Oh, no, wait,” Greg called as Brandt stood to go. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” Sampson waved in the direction of the bar, gesturing for someone to come over. “You’re going to love Kerry. We were absolutely inseparable in college.”
Brandt had met a number of Greg’s extensive acquaintance—he found them a rather elite lot. He had only met those who knew Greg after he became famous, though, so perhaps his college buddy would be a more down-to-earth character.
Greg sprang to his feet. “Kerry! Get over here, you,” he called into the crowd.
Through the now-crowded bar, Brandt at first couldn’t tell to whom he referred.
“Kerry Stansfield, I’d like you to meet Ethan Brandt.”
“Oh, it’s Mercer now… again,” a female voice replied, startling Brandt, who had been expecting to be introduced to a college buddy, not the tall woman with the brilliant smile who had stepped out of the crowd and now stood next to him. She was objectively beautiful.
“What?” Greg asked, clearly startled. “What the…?”
“A story for another time,” Kerry replied. “A drunker time.” She extended an elegant hand to Brandt. “Ethan, I’m very pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Brandt managed as they shook hands.
“Please, sit,” Greg said, pulling out the third chair at the table.
“Are you sure I’m not intruding?” she asked with an impish inflection, winking at Greg.
“Alas, no, you’re not,” Greg replied with a chuckle. “Ethan’s wedding isn’t for another week, but he’s already the most married man I know.”
Kerry smiled at Brandt as she sat. “You must be very married indeed. I’ve known plenty of men—and women—who got significantly less married the longer they spent in Greg’s company.”
“Now, if you’re going to tell all my secrets I may have to disinvite you,” Greg scolded with a grin. He turned to Brandt. “One of the risks of keeping in touch with friends from college is that they can tell stories about our awkward first gropings toward adulthood.”
Kerry’s musical laughter rose above the din of the bar. “Awkward gropings indeed! This guy,” she said, pointing at Greg, “had a line out the door and down the dormitory hall, all desperately hoping they might be the next one to get an awkward groping.”
Brandt raised an eyebrow at Greg. This
was a side of him he hadn’t heard of before.
“It wasn’t like that at all,” Greg protested. “The first couple of years, I was pretty much lost and confused, trying to make it work with women, most of whom—”
“Most of whom would have given their left boob to be the first to hang a tie on your dorm-room door.”
“Yeah, it always seemed to fall apart after the third date,” Greg said. “That was when certain difficulties arose for me.”
“Or didn’t arise, as the case may be,” Kerry rejoined, casting a wry look at Brandt. “Poor Greg was simply desperate to put his square peg into a round hole. No wonder it wasn’t working.”
Greg fixed his friend with a judgmental squint. “I don’t remember you being so sassy.”
“You don’t remember me after a couple of drinks. Speaking of which,” she said, glancing around the table, “it looks like it’s time for another round. What are we drinking?” Kerry waved to a passing server.
“Expensing this to big pharma?”
“You know it. A conference like this is pretty much a gold mine for us, so the bean counters don’t blink at a bar tab until it hits the mid four digits.”
Greg looked at Brandt. “Kerry here is in sales for one of the big drug companies.”
“I used to be a bench chemist,” she explained to Brandt. “But it turns out there’s less money in coming up with the drugs than there is in smiling prettily to doctors about them, so now I’m the VP of North American sales.” She turned back to Greg. “I’ve pretty much sold out, which is something my friend here knows all about, having turned his promising career as an award-winning investigative reporter into a cushy job reading the teleprompter. And now he’s enjoying semiretirement as a philanthropist.” She reached over and mussed his hair. “So proud of you, by the way.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” he replied, beaming.
“So, Ethan, what brings you here? No, wait, let me guess.” She looked him up and down. “Judging from the musculature, I’m going to say… ortho?”