Friendly Fire

by Cari Z.

Christ, would he ever. As annoying as Oliver was sometimes, being with him relaxed Lennox in a way almost nothing else did. It reminded him of being around Elliot, actually. In which case, Lennox had to seriously question his taste in men, because well-dressed, incredibly frustrating jackasses were a recipe for trouble. Still . . . it would be nice to see Oliver again. He didn’t know where things would stand with Elliot by then, though.

  “Does silence mean no?”

  Lennox blinked, then shook himself. “Sorry, I was just thinking . . . do you mind if I bring someone along?”

  “Who, Lia? Wouldn’t she be in school?”

  “Yes, she would, and no, not Lia. It’s Lee now, by the way.”

  “Lee. Lord. It’ll be metal bands and eyeliner twenty-four seven before you know it.”

  “Don’t mistake her teenage years for yours,” Lennox chided him, but he had to smile. He remembered Oliver in eyeliner. It had been startlingly sexy.

  “Fine, K-pop and Nicki Minaj, then―I don’t know. And if it isn’t her, who do you have in mind?”

  How did Lennox explain Elliot? “I’m sort of . . . looking after someone at the moment. He’s in a difficult situation, and I want to make sure he gets through it okay.”

  “Oh, he is, is he?” Oliver sounded way too interested.

  “It’s not like that,” Lennox protested, even though it sort of was. “I’ll try to be there, all right? Text me when you land.”

  “I will. Lennox―remember to take care of yourself too, all right?”

  It was only the genuine edge of worry in Oliver’s voice that prevented Lennox from ending the call instantly. They had agreed not to talk about Lennox’s personal issues, had practically signed a contract in blood after the clusterfuck of their last month together. Oliver had been as enthusiastic about him getting a shrink as Gaby by then, the traitor. “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t doubt you think that.” And then, before Lennox could go after him, “Hopefully I’ll see you in a few days. Don’t freeze to death in the meantime!”

  Lennox snorted. “Who’s the Canadian here?”

  “I’m a Canadian who hates snow, why do you think I spend so much time in the Middle East? Au revoir.” Oliver was gone before Lennox could tell him exactly why he spent so much time in war zones. He tentatively put the appointment into his calendar, then went back into the shop.

  Elliot was already inside, and was buying something from Kevin while he chatted with Rodney. They all appeared totally at ease, and Rodney actually smiled at Lennox when he saw him. Lennox approached warily.

  “Lennox!” Rodney clapped him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me about the sponsorship deal you were negotiating?”

  “I’m sure it’s just because he didn’t want to mention it before the paperwork was on the way,” Elliot interjected with a smile, covering nicely for Lennox’s utter confusion. “Which I’ll have my secretary complete and send to you before the end of the day. In the meantime, I can’t thank you enough for letting me steal away your best employee for the rest of the week. Once the Meetup is over, I’ll be sure to return him in perfect condition.”

  Rodney chuckled, his amusement clearly tempered by relief. “It seems the business we’re going to get from this will more than make up for his temporary loss.”

  “I can virtually guarantee it,” Elliot said, taking a black bag with the Castillion logo on it. “Kevin, thank you so much for your help. It was invaluable. My insurance company will send a tow truck later today for the car.”

  “Dude, you’re totally welcome! Like I said, I never get to play around in quality vehicles like that, so I was all about it.”

  Somehow Elliot was able to get them out of there in a flurry of well-being and delight instead of the recriminations that Lennox had been preparing for since last night. And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

  “What did you say to Rodney?” he asked as he opened up the truck. Elliot managed to get in by himself with only a little grunt of effort.

  “I said that you were hard at work negotiating a Castillion sponsorship of my Executive Meetup for free, in exchange for your assistance in prepping for the event and looking into installing systems in my business for the rest of the week,” he said flippantly. “It has a ten-thousand-dollar value: you’re welcome. Are they really called dongles?”

  “Elliot . . .”

  “Because that doesn’t sound like a real word to me. Was Kevin screwing with us?”

  “No, dongle is the word. Elliot, I didn’t do any of that.”

  Elliot stared at Lennox like he was being deliberately slow. “I know. But it was the easiest way to get him off your back and keep you with me at the same time. I figured you’d choose to stay whether Rodney wants you to or not. I just had to give him a reason to be happy about it.”

  Lennox shook his head. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “It’s my business, my call. If I want to hand Castillion a sponsorship that everyone else has paid out the nose for, I’ll do it. Now, seriously though. Dongles? Because that has to be a joke.”

  “Not really, you’re just concussed.”

  “I’m not that concussed,” Elliot argued, but he shut his eyes a moment later. “I am tired, though.”

  “Yeah, that would be the concussion,” Lennox said gently. “Sit back and get some sleep; we’ll be back at your place soon.”

  “I have to call Serena and tell her to send a contract to Rodney and change the adverts first.” That didn’t take long, and by the time they’d pulled back in to Elliot’s house, he was drowsing against the headrest, his grip on his phone loose enough that it threatened to release entirely.

  The affection that surged through Lennox as he looked at Elliot made goose bumps rise up on his arms. He couldn’t possibly feel so strongly about this guy so soon. They barely knew each other, and though Lennox had come out on top, he didn’t like lying to his boss to get himself out of trouble. Elliot was an unknown quantity, not someone he’d grown up with like Oliver or trained with like Gaby. He was a rock making ripples in Lennox’s already-turbulent life, and Lennox didn’t need further ripples to deal with.

  It didn’t matter. Good idea or not, Lennox was committed now, at least to helping Elliot get rid of his stalker. Which was definitely a situation he needed more information on.

  He helped Elliot inside, put him to bed—with only Holly for company, despite Elliot trying to pull him down beneath the covers—and started searching for information on Sheridan Pullman. There was plenty to read up on. He’d gone to MIT, worked for a few other big companies to get experience, before starting up Redback Industries on his own. He was a good scientist but a better businessman, who had kept his ear to the ground in search of new technologies to patent in the name of Redback in addition to all the in-house research the firm did.

  The articles Lennox read were split when it came to Pullman’s personality. The company had been nothing but profitable until its untimely demise, but Pullman himself, well . . . writers couldn’t agree on whether he was Satan in a suit, or just a lesser Machiavelli. It was a biography that spoke of ruthlessness either way, and Lennox could definitely see him doing unscrupulous things in the name of business. But . . .

  The snake didn’t fit. It didn’t seem elegant enough for a guy like that. Sheridan Pullman might be an ex-con now, but he was still a millionaire, still a genius. He could still afford to hire the best, and probably wouldn’t resort to Godfather-like tactics to instill fear. The snake had been gross, but it was crass, the angry act of a person sending a simple, gory message. Remotely hijacking the car, on the other hand? Smart. Very smart, and something that required skill to pull off. An action like that instilled reasonable paranoia in the victim.

  Then again, maybe Lennox just wasn’t scared enough of snakes. Elliot had certainly responded badly to it.

  Lennox’s phone rang. He checked the caller and answered. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “What’s happenin
g?”

  “Not much.”

  Oh boy. Now they were going to play the let me pry this information out of you game. Lennox checked the time: already after three. How had it gotten so late? “How was school?” he asked as he got up to stretch his stiff muscles.

  “Fine. Boring. I don’t have homework, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Lee added.

  “Okay, good.”

  “Yeah.” Oh, this is going fantastically. Fortunately, Lee got tired of stalling. “So, remember when you said you’d make up for missing dinner to me this week?”

  “I do remember, seeing as I told you that yesterday,” Lennox replied. “You calling your chip in already?” It wasn’t the best night for it, but then, things would probably only get more frantic as it got closer to the weekend and the Executive Meetup. Lennox didn’t want to stand up Lee again.

  “I’m bored,” Lee complained. “Mom is going to be out late at a business dinner, the twins are at their mom’s and Marcus is traveling this week. Mom left me some food, but it’s gross.”

  “Too healthy for you?”

  “Too many beans.” Lennox could picture the disgust on her face. “Why does she have to put so many beans in the chili? Why can’t she just use more meat?”

  Personally Lennox agreed, but he wasn’t about to say so. “You could make it yourself next time if you don’t like it.”

  “Stop it, Dad, now you sound like her. Can’t we do something tonight? Maybe go to a movie?”

  “Not on a school night,” Lennox said automatically, but his free hand was already flexing as he thought about what he’d really like to be doing―burning off some energy in the ring. He could bring Elliot, even. That way he could get a workout in with Lee and keep Elliot in his sights all at once. “How about we go to the boxing gym? We can see how much you remember from last time.”

  There was a long moment of silence, but it didn’t seem like a bad one. “It’s been a while,” Lee said at last. “What if I suck at it?”

  “You won’t suck at it.”

  “People might make fun of me.”

  “Nobody will make fun of you at my gym.” Or I’ll make them regret it.

  “Is Elliot coming?”

  Lennox had thought that might come up. “I’ll bring him along, but he’s in no shape to box right now.”

  “No, I get it,” Lee said quickly. “That’s cool. Sure. Let’s do it.”

  “Let me check with your mom first.”

  “She won’t care,” Lee said. “She’ll be happy you’re not neglecting me.”

  That sounded awful. “Is that how you feel?” Lennox asked.

  “Not exactly,” Lee said, but her voice was a lot smaller. “It’s just . . . Why won’t you let me come back to your apartment?”

  Lennox squeezed his eyes shut. “Lee . . .”

  “It’s not like you hurt me! Mom said I shouldn’t have tried to wake you up like that anyway, so it was my fault—”

  “No, it wasn’t your fault at all,” Lennox insisted. “It wasn’t mine either; I was asleep―” his therapist had been useful for pounding that into his head, at least “―but it still wasn’t safe for you. I don’t want to take any chances until I’ve got things under a little better control, okay? It’s not you, sweetheart. I swear it’s not you.”

  Lee took a deep, hitching breath, then sighed loudly. “Dad?”

  “Yeah?” he said tentatively.

  “I really want to punch something now.”

  Lennox smiled despite himself. “That’s my girl. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Don’t forget to bring Elliot!”

  “As long as he feels up to it.” He ended the call and turned toward the stairs only to see that he’d been beaten to the punch: Elliot was standing on the lowest stair, seeming way more alert than he had that morning.

  “So, we’re getting together with your daughter?” he asked with a smile.

  “If you don’t mind, yeah.”

  “Not at all. She’s incredibly easy to get along with―it’s hard to believe you’re related.”

  “Someone woke up with a smart mouth,” Lennox said, going over to the stairway. He leaned against the bannister and looked up at Elliot, who stared back like he knew everything Lennox was thinking.

  “My mouth isn’t the only clever part of my anatomy,” he said. “I’ve got lots of clever parts.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It will once you see what I can do with my hands.”

  “Ah.” Lennox glanced down at the front of Elliot’s slacks, then back up. He slowly slid his arms around the other man’s waist, pulling him a little closer. “I see. You didn’t wake up smart, you woke up horny.”

  Elliot shrugged. “Guilty as charged. Chalk it up to my astonishing powers of recuperation.”

  “Well, I’d love to help you with that,” Lennox said earnestly, leaning in until Elliot’s erection was pressed to his stomach. He felt it harden further, and smiled. “But . . .” He placed a kiss on Elliot’s collarbone as he rubbed against his groin.

  “But?” Elliot asked breathlessly.

  “But now we’ve got to go.” Lennox smacked Elliot on the ass and then pulled away entirely. “I’ll get your jacket.” He left Elliot gaping as he headed for the coatrack.

  “Wha— No, hold on,” Elliot protested. “That— You—”

  “We have places to be. If you’re good, though, and if you feel up to it later tonight, we can revisit the issue.” He brought Elliot’s coat over and held it open for him. Elliot reluctantly turned and let Lennox pull it over his arms and shoulders. “But for now, we’re in a hurry.”

  “You are an unexpected tease,” Elliot said as he turned back, full of aplomb again.

  “Gotta keep you on your toes.” Lennox pulled on his own coat and zipped it closed. It looked cold out there.

  “We’ll see if you can, later.” Elliot smiled like sin as he slipped his shoes on. “Let me take Holly out and we can go.”

  “Hey.” Lennox caught his sleeve. “Thanks.” Thanks for understanding that I have a kid, thanks for humoring her, humoring both of us, and coming along.

  “It’s my pleasure,” Elliot replied. “I like kids.” His smile crumpled a bit as he turned away, but Lennox didn’t push it. It wasn’t the time for that. He got his phone out and called Gaby instead.

  An hour later they were at the gym, Elliot seated on the bleachers and watching with every indication of interest as Lennox put Lee through her paces. They’d started slow, reviewing the basic punches and making sure she wasn’t going to hurt herself when she made contact. She was a fast learner though, and while it had been years since they’d boxed together, back before his last tour they’d done it every weekend.

  Lennox held the punching pads and called out combinations, and Lee, with a fierce focus that reminded him of her mother, hit every one of them. He threw in slips and she moved like water, sliding under the pads and then coming back around for a perfect hook or uppercut. Lennox had expected her to call it after half an hour but she held out for nearly forty-five minutes before she finally dropped her hands and didn’t pick them up again.

  “I need . . . a break . . . Daddy . . .”

  “You need a freaking medal, is what you need,” Lennox said with a grin, but he put the pads down and walked her over to the bleachers, where she collapsed next to Elliot without taking off her gloves.

  “Water . . .”

  “Here.” Elliot handed over her bottle, which she somehow managed to hold long enough to down half of. “You were fantastic,” he told her, then looked at Lennox. “If this is the kind of self-defense you teach, I don’t think I’d survive it.”

  “This isn’t self-defense,” Lennox said automatically. “It’s boxing. Different skills.”

  “Self-defense has groin strikes,” Lee added. She seemed tired but bright, happy. It wasn’t an expression Lennox had seen on her a lot lately. “It’s way easier to learn.”

  “The basics ar
e, at least,” Lennox agreed. Carl waved at him from the rear of the gym, and Lennox raised a shoulder in question. Carl just raised an eyebrow and disappeared into his office. Subtle. “I’ll be back in a second, okay?” Lennox tapped one of Lee’s gloves. “Get these off before they start to smell.”

  “You smell,” she replied, but she put the water bottle down. Elliot began to help her with the gloves, and Lennox went to meet with his cryptic coach.

  Carl’s office carried the same scents of sweat and leather as the rest of the gym, but underneath them was a hint of stale tobacco, leftover from before Carl’s brush with lung cancer. He didn’t waste any time. “Your kid needs to be on our team.”

  Of all the things Lennox hadn’t expected to hear today. “You want to train her to be an actual boxer?”

  “She’s got a good grounding in it, and she looked hungry out there. She’d eat the other kids her age for breakfast.”

  Lennox shook his head. “She doesn’t have time for boxing, she’s got school, and ballet, and . . .” And she hates ballet. And it would give you something to do together.

  “Ballet helps teach good footwork,” Carl said nonchalantly. “If I could get more of my guys into ballet, there’d be more Golden Gloves champions in this place. Hell, I dated a ballerina in the seventies. She was, shit, Ukrainian, I think?” His eyes went a little hazy. “She could kick like a mule in pointy-toed slippers. Put me flat on my back for a week once.”

  Lennox held up a hand. “TMI.”

  “I’m just sayin’, maybe talk to her about it. I’ve got two other teenage girls training here, both a bit older, but they’d be good sparring partners. Boys too, and I don’t put up with macho bullshit when it comes to my team.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.” He couldn’t deny that the idea had a certain appeal. But the last thing he wanted was for Lee to do it just because she wanted to please him. “I’ll talk to her about it. Promise.”

  “Good.”

  Lennox headed back out to the gym, and wasn’t as surprised as he should have been when he saw Lee giggling over something on Elliot’s phone. “What’s so funny?” he asked as he rejoined them.

  “Dad, how did you fall asleep like that?” Lee marveled. “And the dog is so cute, oh my God! I want one.”