Friendly Fire

by Cari Z.

  The party itself was being held in a private performance hall that could only accommodate a smallish number of guests, if five hundred could be considered a small number. Lennox felt strange in his tux, the formal skin doing a poor job of concealing the informal man beneath it. He had to admit, though, that he didn’t look odd once he was in among the Meetup’s crowd.

  While Elliot entered through a private door in the back—“I’ve got to preserve some sense of surprise, after all”—Lennox went in through the front, where Serena and Lee were checking IDs and invitations. Serena had opted for a minidress so sparkling that Lennox shielded his eyes as he walked up to her, getting him an eye roll and a gentle smack on the shoulder for his trouble.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” she chided before turning to the woman behind him. “Miss Hanes! We’re so pleased you could make it.” Lennox stepped off to the side so Serena could handle the influx behind him, and checked in with Lee, who was very seriously making notes on the tablet she held. She was in a violet dress that stopped just below her knees, which he decidedly approved of. Her hair had been elaborately pinned on top of her head, and a jeweled comb was doing its best to hold the whole thing in place.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Dad!” Lee beamed a smile at him. “Check out the dress Aunt Serena got for me.” She held her arms out to her side, and seemed one halfhearted consideration over maturity away from doing a twirl.

  “It’s nice.”

  Lee frowned. “Only nice?” Lennox scrambled to come up with something else, but Lee’s frown melted away into a devious grin. “I’m kidding, Dad, don’t stress.”

  “You are definitely spending too much time with your aunt.”

  Lee shrugged. “I feel like I’m learning a lot, though. You look really nice too.” Lee checked his sleeves, then smiled. “You’re wearing my present!”

  “What else would I wear to a fancy party like this?”

  “It is pretty fancy, isn’t it?” They stood side by side in mutual silence, gazing out at the people surrounding them. The room bustled with guests exchanging greetings, numbers, and plenty of business cards. Too many of the men wore fedoras in a transparent attempt to be more like Elliot, and the air smelled so thickly of perfume and cologne that Lennox struggled not to sneeze. Was it appropriate to use the pocket square to blow your nose? Probably not. He’d grab a cocktail napkin as soon as he could, just in case.

  “Not our normal crowd,” Lennox suggested, and Lee nodded, but there was a stubborn tilt to her mouth that he recognized all too well.

  “But it could be.”

  “I guess it could,” Lennox agreed. “If you’re into the wine-and-dine set.”

  “Dad.” Lee stared at him like he was slow. “You are into that crowd. You’re dating Elliot, aren’t you?”

  Lennox wasn’t sure what was going on with Elliot, honestly, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything either way before they were interrupted.

  “Is that so?” A dark-haired woman in a sleek crimson suit stepped up out of nowhere. “This is a new development since I last talked to Mr. McKenzie.” The fingers of her right hand twitched, like she was desperate to take notes. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

  “Now now, Clarissa.” Serena fluttered over to them like a guardian angel in haute couture. Her smile was bright, but cold. “You’re not here to be a reporter, you’re here to enjoy the party. So please.” She handed over a flute of champagne. “Go and enjoy.”

  The woman smirked as she took the drink. “Your employer would probably be offended if he thought you were running interference for him. Mr. McKenzie is a big boy, he can handle himself.”

  “And his friend is here to enjoy himself, not endure the third degree from you, so let’s call it a wash.”

  Serena’s smile dropped away as soon as the other woman’s back was turned. “Why he invited her, honestly . . . but you.” She eyed Lennox appreciatively for a moment. “You look like a million bucks. Betty does such good work.”

  “Just call me the ugly duckling,” Lennox said, but Serena tutted and shook her head.

  “This is more like gilding the lily, I think. Where’s your— Ah.” The volume in one corner of the room rose dramatically, and Serena smiled. “Elliot’s making his entrance now.”

  While he was deployed, Lennox had been party to several visits from politicians and entertainers who’d come out to “personally thank the troops” for one reason or another. Those people had by and large been masterful at working a crowd, but they had nothing on Elliot. He was like the rising sun, illuminating every person he came into contact with. He was alluring, magnetic, passing out greetings and compliments and remembering everyone’s names, fielding thanks and questions with genuine enjoyment. He seemed as deft at getting out of conversations as getting into them, and moved from group to group as smoothly as a summer breeze, welcoming and warm. Lennox realized he was smiling just watching Elliot walk, and when he looked away, it was to find Lee grinning smugly at him.

  “Knock it off, smarty,” Lennox murmured, nudging her with his elbow. She nudged back, then rejoined Serena checking in new arrivals. Lennox slid over to a spot near the bar, as close to out of the way as he could be in such a busy place, then he let his eyes take a soft focus as he stared out over the crowd.

  He didn’t even know what he was searching for, or what he expected to see. Suspicious behavior? God, that label could apply to any of a dozen people right now, surreptitiously or openly taking photos with their phones to prove “I was there, see me hanging out with the beautiful people!” It could apply to one of the fast-talkers who sidled through the crowd like silk thread, too slick to hold still. It might apply to one of the three people who were badly concealing guns: two men with pocket holsters, and one woman with a purse that was too big for her to be lugging around at a time like this.

  A passing waiter stopped and offered Lennox a tiny quiche. He accepted and forced himself to relax a little. Odds were, nothing was going to happen here. Pullman wanted to ruin Elliot at the height of his career, and that was the Black Box meeting. Elliot was so confident in that that they’d designed their entire plan around it. And if something did happen . . . if someone happened . . . well, there was always plan B. Neither Elliot nor Lennox were happy about plan B, which was more of a Hail Mary play than a well-considered course of action, but at least it was there.

  The noise gradually increased as the alcohol flowed, people wheeling and dealing, cries of pleasure and recognition and a few of discontent. Lennox wasn’t here to be security, though, and was pleased when the security company that Elliot had hired to make sure things went smoothly escorted some disgruntled drunks out when they started to get too insistent. Clusters developed around the biggest fish, a few of them people who even Lennox recognized, and theories flew freely about who would be attending the Black Box meeting.

  “Were you invited?”

  “Have you heard . . .”

  “What about . . .”

  After another half hour, Lennox frankly would rather be under fire than having to fend off any more tipsy guests asking who he was and, once word had gotten out, how he and Elliot had gotten together. Passing the buck to Serena only worked a few times, and when the ESPN updates that had been playing on the projector screen stopped and Elliot took the stage, it felt like a weight slipped from his shoulders. Elliot smiled brightly in the glare of the spotlight, and people gave him their attention like it would pay their way to Heaven.

  “Welcome to the Charmed Life Executive Meetup.” Elliot enunciated every capital letter so precisely Lennox could almost hear the trademark fall into place. That was as canned as his speech got, however. Elliot looked down at the podium in front of him for a moment, and when he looked up again, his eyes burned with authenticity.

  “I know I can’t speak for everyone, but tonight I’m going to try.” He took a deep breath. “We’re here together, all of us, because we believe in second chances. We’re here
because we believe the mistakes in our past don’t have to define our futures. We’re here because we want to meet like-minded people, and give back to the community that exists between us. You people,” his gaze raked the crowd, freezing fidgeters and transfixing the people who met his eyes, “you friends, you visionaries―you’re here because for whatever reason, you’ve chosen to believe in yourself. You believed enough to come here tonight, to invest in your future and the future of everyone here.

  “All of you, each and every one of you, have something to offer the world. You didn’t lie down and die when that felt like the only path ahead of you; you didn’t curl up in a corner and wait to be forgotten. You fought on: you fought for the right to have a life, success, and the possibility of a future made brighter by your hard-won knowledge. You’re tough, and you’re savvy, and you’re not spectators to your own existence. Take a look around, see the people surrounding you, and recognize now: you’re not alone. All of you are a part of Charmed Life, the most important part. You’re the part that believes in you and everyone else here. Hold on to that belief.”

  There were specifics about what Elliot hoped to accomplish by hosting the Meetup, what he wanted people to do for each other, but it all rolled through Lennox’s mind without really penetrating. He could only watch as Elliot, this fallible man who was maybe almost as far from perfect as Lennox himself was, assured his guests that, more than ever, they were meant to be there. Meant for the high life, meant for great things, meant to move beyond the bad parts of their lives.

  Shit. Maybe Lennox should be a member.

  After a few more minutes, Lennox tore his attention away from the stage and skirted the edge of the crowd until he made it to the smaller room that had an exit straight out to the street. The catering crew was in there, Stuart directing them like a manic symphony conductor, sending tray after tray of champagne flutes, truffles, and chocolate-dipped strawberries into the crowd.

  The same girl who’d given him a quiche saw him and detoured his way before heading out, proffering her tray of berries with a flourish. They were gorgeous, dipped in dark and milk chocolate swirled with white chocolate stripes. Lennox took one despite not feeling hungry for it, and after his first bite he was glad he had. He closed his eyes for a moment, the richness of the treat a serious distraction.

  Not so distracting that he didn’t notice when Elliot got close, but it was a near thing.

  “That good, huh?” Elliot asked quietly as he stopped half a foot away from Lennox, whose stomach clenched, but not from the food. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so affected by another person.

  “Amazing,” he said. Elliot was calm now, calmer than he had been before the Meetup started. He’d obviously found his zone, and it showed in the relaxed way he stood, the confidence in his expression. Lennox was struck with the urge to touch him, and Elliot must have seen it, because he leaned in until their chests brushed.

  “Show me,” he said, and then his lips were on Lennox’s. Elliot didn’t taste like chocolate or champagne; he tasted like himself, and it was more intoxicating than anything else. Lennox tilted his head and cupped the back of Elliot’s head with his free hand, deepening the kiss. Elliot hummed appreciatively.

  When the kiss finally ended, Lennox had to resist the urge to chase Elliot’s mouth. “Good?” he managed, not quite needing to clear his throat to speak.

  Elliot nodded. “I think you said it best. Amazing.” He traced a line down the buttons on Lennox’s shirt. “Do you—”

  Lennox’s phone began to softly beep, and he’d never hated the fucking thing worse, but they’d agreed. “Time to go,” he murmured.

  “For both of us. Stuart should be prepping the van now.” Elliot slowly took his hat off, then set it on Lennox’s head. When he stepped back, he was all business. “Good luck. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” he said cheerfully.

  “Thanks,” Lennox said dryly. He headed for the door leading to the street, hoping it was dark enough, hoping the timing was right, hoping everything worked out the way they wanted it to. Needed it to.

  It was definitely dark, and the Camaro was parked away from the streetlamps, so he wasn’t too worried about being made. Still, he moved briskly, unlocking and starting the car remotely so that as soon as he slid behind the wheel and buckled up, he could go.

  He paused to take the spectrum analyzer he’d borrowed from Kevin―“on pain of death if you scratch that thing, dude; it costs more than three of your cars”―out from under the passenger seat. He flipped up the lid and turned it on, then extended the directional antenna and pointed it down toward the undercarriage of the Camaro. A familiar oscillating line hummed across the screen. Bingo. That was a signal from a tracking device.

  Lennox shut off the analyzer, pulled into traffic, which was still heavy with Super Bowl pre-partiers, and slowly wound through downtown Denver until he got on the highway that led back to Golden. Then he called up Kevin and put his phone on speaker. “Is everything ready?”

  “Yeah, absolutely! The cameras are rolling, and I left the back door unlocked for you and . . . whoever else shows. And I loaded my P90, for backup!”

  “You realize this could take some time, right?” Lennox clarified as he turned onto Highway 93. “And that the last thing we want to do is shoot someone?” It made his brain hurt that he needed to explicitly state this to Kevin. It was like talking with the shotgun-grabby hick again.

  “I know, I totally know. But, I mean, we could, that’s what I’m saying. I’m ready, just in case.”

  Ready, set, and overeager. Lennox would definitely be making him put that P90 back in his room before anyone else showed up. “Thanks, Kevin.” He ended the call and turned onto Castillion Place. There were no headlights behind him now, but he knew they could expect company.

  He pulled into the store lot, got out his phone, and texted Elliot: Found a tracking device. Expecting company soon enough.

  Holy shit, really?

  Lennox rolled his eyes. Part of the plan, remember?

  I still hoped it wouldn’t happen. After a long pause, a new text came through. You don’t have to do this. You can leave my car on the side of the road and run.

  That was sweet. Way too late, but sweet. I’ll be fine. Worry about yourself.

  Can’t help it. You’re too important for me to ignore. There was another pause, possibly Elliot waiting to see if Lennox would reply in kind. He wasn’t about to make any important declarations via text, though. It would keep until they were together again. Going dark here. Call you by midnight.

  He’d better. Good luck.

  Same to you, babe.

  Lennox put the phone away, locked the car, and headed into Castillion’s back room. Kevin was waiting for him, grinning, a bag of chips in one hand and a tablet in the other. His beard had crumbs in it. “So, what about Make My Day?” he asked the second Lennox shut the door. “Because I live here, so technically speaking that makes it a domicile, right? So the law would protect us against prosecution if we shot someone breaking and entering here.”

  “If you’re so keen to shoot people, join the Army.” Lennox took off Elliot’s hat and set it on the counter, then picked up the P90 that Kevin had left out. He inspected it and resisted the urge to sigh. “This is the military model, Kevin. Ownership of these is restricted. If you get caught with this―I don’t care if it is in self-defense―you’re going to have a hard time justifying using a submachine gun on a person.”

  “But it’s only a little submachine gun,” Kevin whined. “Come on, Lennox! Why are you ruining all my fun?”

  His urge to sigh was rapidly turning into an urge to slap some sense into Kevin, but that would probably take all night. “This isn’t about fun. It’s about catching someone who’s trying to kill Elliot. You can either help me out, or I can banish you to the control room and you can monitor the phone banks, like you’re supposed to anyway.”

  “I’ll hear it ring if someone calls,” Kevin insisted, but his
voice was weak. “Oh, fine.” He took the gun back into his room.

  “Nothing with an extended magazine either,” Lennox called as he checked the time. Almost ten.

  “But they’re legal to own, just not to buy!”

  “Kevin.”

  “Fine, God. What are you, my dad?”

  “We’re both lucky I’m not,” Lennox said under his breath as he heard Kevin reopen his gun safe.

  Thirty minutes passed slowly, with Kevin in a huff and Lennox disinclined to make conversation, but eventually Kevin’s tablet beeped. “Motion detector,” he said. “Let me pull up the camera feed.” Lennox joined him and watched a gray video image come to life. It was infrared, not the best quality, but he could make out the outline of the sedan as it stopped right outside the gate leading into the front lot. The car’s headlights weren’t on, and the brief flare of the overhead lights lasted just long enough to silhouette a figure holding something short and slender in one hand.

  Kevin peered at the video. “Is that a gun?” he asked as the person began to move. He switched to the camera in front of the store. After a minute the figure appeared again, making careful progress around the building. “Or a knife?”

  “It’s a phone,” Lennox said after a second. “They’re probably using it to identify the car. Leave the tablet, hit the lights, and get behind the table.”

  “Okay!”

  “And try to be quiet,” Lennox added as Kevin rammed the nearest chair with his hip in his haste to fall back.

  “Oh-kay,” he whispered, then turned the overhead lights off.

  Lennox stayed where he was, leaning against the wall closest to the door and watching the video feed. He held his breath as the person drew up behind the door, laying the phone flush to the metal for a moment. Apparently whatever they were monitoring was acceptable, because the next thing they did was try the doorknob.