Friendly Fire

by Cari Z.

  It turned. The person opened the door a crack, the faint light doing nothing to illuminate the room inside. Lennox held his position, one hand on the gun at the small of his back. Gradually the door opened further, and after a few seconds’ more hesitation, the person stepped over the threshold.

  The next few moments almost gave Lennox a heart attack. Just as he turned on the light, Kevin popped up from behind the far table, pistol in hand, and screamed, “Freeze, motherfucker!” The person in the black bodysuit and mask responded by pulling a stun gun out of one pocket almost faster than Lennox could track and firing it at Kevin. The prongs got him in the shoulder and sent him quivering to the ground, which was enough of a distraction for Lennox to close the distance. He grabbed the forearm and shoulder of the firing hand and levered them down hard, bending the attacker over at the waist.

  The person dropped both their phone and their stun gun, fighting to free themselves from Lennox’s grasp. He blocked the vicious uppercut aimed at his groin, then stomped the back of the person’s leg, bringing them down onto one knee with a gasp. A high, feminine gasp.

  “I figured it was gonna be you,” Lennox muttered, pulling off the mask. Only it wasn’t red hair and a square, stern face that greeted him. It was a black pixie cut and an expression that could have given a viper a run for its money on venomous.

  “Get your hands off me!” she snapped. Her voice clued him in: it was the reporter, Clarissa-something from the party.

  “Why, so you can try to take me out again? No, thanks.” Lennox looked over to where Kevin had fallen. “Kevin? You okay?”

  “Hmm-ghnn . . .”

  “I need to hear you say yes, Kevin.” Lennox wanted to go over and check him out personally, but he didn’t have any handcuffs on him and he wasn’t about to trust this woman on her own.

  “Yuh . . . yeah. Yes. Ow, shit.” Kevin’s head slowly appeared over the edge of the table. “The fuck did you hit me with?” he demanded in a wobbly voice.

  “Kevin, I need you to go and call the police, okay? Go to the phone room and call the cops and stay on with them until they get here. Tell them we’ve had a break-in but it’s under control.” The woman tried to surge up at that, to tear herself away, but Lennox just stretched her out until her body was flush to the floor, then set a knee in the small of her back.

  “I can . . . No, I can stay and help.”

  “Calling the cops is the best way to help now, Kevin,” Lennox assured him calmly. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

  “Um . . . okay.” Kevin tottered away into the phone room.

  Lennox smiled down at the woman spitting curses against the dirty beige carpet. “Alone at last,” he said. “Honestly, you weren’t who I was expecting.”

  “I’m glad you’re calling the cops,” she ground out. “I’m going to sue you for all you’ve got. Assaulting a woman? They’ll eat you alive.”

  “Subduing a trespasser on private property, who stalked me across town? Who attacked my colleague and tried to attack me?”

  “He pulled a gun on me first!”

  Lennox shook his head. “That’s not what the cameras will show. Those stop on the outside of the building. And it doesn’t matter: he lives here. He could have shot you with impunity as soon as you stepped over the threshold. That’s the law.” It wasn’t exactly what he’d told Kevin, but he hadn’t needed the encouragement. “Not to mention, I bet if we take a peek inside your phone, we’ll find all sorts of things that aren’t supposed to be there. We kept the dongle, you know.” She flinched. “Do you still have the software that you used to control Elliot’s car on your phone? How do you think the cops are gonna like that?”

  “That wasn’t my idea.”

  Lennox hadn’t figured it was. “Pullman’s, then?”

  “Let me up and I’ll tell you,” she gritted out. “This position is killing me.”

  “It’s pretty comfortable from where I’m sitting,” Lennox said, but . . . well. Maybe his knees were creaking a little. “Fine. Sit up slowly, keep your hands over your head, and if you go for another weapon? I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

  She pressed her lips tight together, but nodded. Lennox made sure her stun gun and phone were both out of reach, patted her down briefly, then let go of her and stood up. He drew his gun and kept it trained on her as she pushed up to her hands and knees with a wince. “Back against the wall.”

  She went, shuffling on her butt and keeping her hands above her head the whole time. “I’m a reporter, all right? I write for Shockwave magazine. We specialize in business and technology. You don’t know what Elliot McKenzie is really doing; I’m after the biggest story of my career here!”

  “I know what you think is happening at the Black Box meeting,” Lennox told her. “You’re wrong.”

  “No, you’re wrong. I’m on the verge of uncovering one of the most massive acts of corporate malfeasance in history! This could result in saving hundreds of thousands of lives across the globe, not that I’d expect someone like you to care about that.” The disdain in her voice was so thick it was surprising she could speak through it.

  “You work for Pullman, then?”

  “Sheridan has nothing to do with this,” she insisted. “I got a tip, I ran with it. If I could have exposed both Elliot and his buyers, I would have gotten a Pulitzer for my work and done the world a huge favor at the same time. That’s it.”

  Sheridan, huh? “I don’t believe you.” Lennox crouched down across from her, his pistol lowered but ready. “I don’t think the cops will believe you either. The software you’ve been using is expensive, not to mention probably illegal; how does a reporter manage that? If your call records are investigated, will they show absolutely no contact with Pullman? That you acted completely on your own without any material support from him? Really? Because I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  “What does it matter?” Clarissa demanded. “The point is, McKenzie is off selling secrets he has no legal claim on to some of the most dangerous people in the underworld! Do you have any idea the kind of damage that could be done with a programmable virus? The people who could be assassinated without anyone the wiser? He’s selling the deaths of countless individuals to the highest bidder.”

  Lennox shook his head. “He’s not the thief. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “History tells a different story.”

  “History shows that you’re on a first-name basis with a man who’s willing to hire murderers to get what he wants, so I wouldn’t place too much stock in the trustworthiness of the past if I were you,” Lennox said. He could hear sirens in the distance. “Here come the cops. I suggest you be honest with them. Don’t try to protect Pullman or his bodyguard from their share of the blame.”

  Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Martine’s not his bodyguard, she’s his nurse, you idiot.” Apparently she’d decided to exchange ignorance for insults. “Her whole job is keeping him alive long enough for him to see his rightful property returned.”

  Lennox’s eyebrows rose. “He’s dying?”

  “He has stage-four colon cancer. He won’t live another six months.”

  Lennox considered that for a moment as he stared at Clarissa, taking in the planes of her face, her sharp and familiar, golden-brown eyes. He didn’t trust his instincts very often these days, but this time he knew he was right. “It’s hard to say no to family, isn’t it? Especially when what they want you to do comes with a big pile of money attached to it.”

  Clarissa drew back tight against the wall, biting her lip. When she finally spoke, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It isn’t about the money. It never has been.”

  “Easy to say.”

  “It’s true,” she snapped. “And I’m not saying any more about it to you, the cops, or anyone else without a lawyer present.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” Lennox agreed. He might not have all the answers, but he had enough that he was almost limp with relief. “At least now I know why Martine was such a bad shot.”


  Clarissa frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Yesterday morning, in the woods outside Elliot’s house.” Her face didn’t change. “When I was shot at by someone creeping around outside,” he continued, waiting for her to understand, to confirm his suspicion.

  “Martine stays with Sheridan twenty-four seven,” Clarissa said instead. “She wouldn’t leave him to go randomly shoot at you. And if she did, I doubt she’d miss.”

  A cold feeling started to grow in the pit of Lennox’s stomach. “And the photographs? The snake?”

  “What snake?”

  If she didn’t know . . . and Pullman hadn’t known either . . .

  “Shit.”

  Lennox needed to find Elliot, now.

  Excerpt from Shockwave’s article:

  I confess, I came into this interview skeptical of Charmed Life. Startups like this are rarely lasting phenomena; they flare into existence, capture attention for a while, then ultimately die a shady little death with few people the wiser. I didn’t understand how the concept could really work. There are already communities for people with less-than-perfect records, plenty of them online, many more available in person. What could Charmed Life possibly offer to make people not only stick around, but pay for the privilege?

  Having met Elliot McKenzie, and listened to his passion for his project, I have to admit there’s definitely something to what he says about scope. Charmed Life doesn’t just want you to find a job flipping burgers once you get out from prison; it wants you to own the franchise. This company endeavors to connect people on a larger scale, and with bigger dreams, than many of them probably ever dared to have before. Charmed Life is selling hope, folks, and the promise of camaraderie. And the hell of it is?

  It’s delivering. So far, that is. Let’s see how long he can keep it up.

  It turned out that intense anxiety could make you pretty damn impressive under the right circumstances. At least, that was what it had done for Elliot tonight.

  He’d had two hours of face time inside the Black Box. Two hours of making connections, two hours of handshaking and brainstorming and bringing people with great ideas, unique ideas, together. Two hours of fine food created, but not carried in, by a reserved Stuart in the kitchen of the private home Elliot had rented for the night. It was a little ways outside of Denver, close enough to see the city lights but far enough to grant people a bit of perspective. Atmosphere was important, after all.

  It had been a short meeting, which worked out well when the pressure was part of the allure: privacy, prestige, and brevity meant people had to be decisive. These two hours were going to pay so many dividends for him down the road, and would do the same for his guests, hopefully. Elliot was reassured that he wasn’t steering his guests wrong, and the buy-in for his new ideas had been gratifying. There was still plenty of work to do—was there ever—but now he was sure that he could get there. With this much fresh investment? He could get a hell of a lot of places. The only thing he needed to complete his night now was a call from Lennox telling him that everything was all right.

  It had helped, Elliot had to confess, to have that edge of fear in the back of his mind, sharpening his reflexes and honing his attention to a point. He couldn’t let it control them, couldn’t let the people here know that he was ready to go crazy with worry over what might have happened to Lennox tonight. He still didn’t know if Vanessa had won the election, and he didn’t know what had happened with Lennox and Pullman’s fixer. He almost excused himself to swipe his phone out of his overcoat a dozen times, just to check on them. Eventually he had Stuart lock it in the back of the van so he’d no longer be tempted.

  Elliot’s focus had paid off, but he didn’t want to drag things out any longer. He was ready to go home. He was ready to text Vanessa, hopefully to congratulate her. He was ready for Lennox, safe and whole in his arms.

  Stuart had the van mostly loaded by the time Elliot had finished bidding his guests goodnight. As the last car drove away, he unwound enough to chafe his hands over his arms. Fuck, but it got cold at night here. The view almost made up for it, though: thousands of stars glittered overhead, gloriously sharp without competition from Denver’s pervasive, dull-orange glow.

  “We’re ready to head out,” Stuart said as he finished locking up the back of the van.

  “Great.” Elliot followed him to the doors and got into the front seat, which was already preheated, and started to relax. He couldn’t let go completely until he knew that Lennox had come through everything okay, though. Elliot patted his pockets as Stuart got them rolling, then swore. “I left my overcoat in the back; it’s got my phone in it,” he explained when Stuart looked at him quizzically.

  “It’s a little late to be calling Serena, don’t you think?”

  “It’s not her.”

  “Can’t it wait until I get you home?” he snapped. When Elliot started, Stuart sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to let me give you a ride there. Besides, I’ve never seen your place before.” He sounded a little hurt now. “After all we’ve done together, you still don’t trust me even that far?”

  “It’s not about trust,” Elliot said instantly, although it really was. He’d actually been going to call Lennox to come and get him, but he might be busy. He might be dead, Elliot’s overactive, asshole imagination supplied, and he swallowed hard. He needed to know what was going on, he needed Lennox, but that wasn’t a conversation that Elliot wanted to have in front of Stuart. Besides, the man did have a point.

  “But yes, I’d love it if you could give me a ride home,” Elliot said, almost hearing Serena’s groan of disbelief. “Thank you for everything you did tonight, Stuart, it was above and beyond the call of duty.”

  Stuart shook his head sharply. “I didn’t think of it as a duty. I mean, we’re friends, aren’t we? Friends should help each other out.”

  “Stuart . . .” Elliot sighed. Time to give the speech about boundaries. Again. Stuart beat him to the punch with a non sequitur, though.

  “Is Lennox West a friend of yours?” Stuart turned to Elliot, his eyes surprisingly shiny in the dark of the van. “Because I thought he worked for Castillion. So he’s a client, isn’t he? Like me?”

  They were getting into sticky territory. Elliot didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to tell Stuart the whole truth either. He didn’t owe him that. “He and I met away from work first,” Elliot said, which was . . . well, partially true. Close enough. “The professional relationship came after the personal one.”

  “So you are having a personal relationship with him, then?” Stuart’s voice rose with every word. “I mean, I assumed as much after what I saw at the Meetup before he left, but . . . is it serious?”

  “I couldn’t say. We haven’t known each other for very long.”

  “Then he’s not going to stick around for you? You two aren’t . . . on that level together?”

  Elliot had a lot of patience, but even he could tolerate only so much prevaricating. “Stuart, what are you getting at?”

  “I just want to know what it takes!” he exclaimed, turning the wheel a bit too hard to the right as they headed toward Golden. “What are your criteria for friendship versus maintaining professional boundaries? What has he done that I haven’t? Because I’ve been trying to be close to you for years and it seems like he’s jumped up to right-hand status in a week.”

  “That would mean supplanting Serena, and no one does that,” Elliot said. He startled when Stuart slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

  “Damn it, I’m serious, Elliot! Is it because you’re having sex with him?” His mouth twisted in distaste. “Is that what it takes to make it to the next level with you? To actually be invited to your home instead of getting there because of convenience?”

  “Absolutely not.” They weren’t going to have that discussion. “No, listen. Stuart, you and I met professionally. That aspect of our relationship is always going to come first, as it should, because we’re both
getting a lot out of collaborating like that. That’s true for everyone I know through Charmed Life, up to and including Serena. I wouldn’t have started anything with Lennox if I hadn’t met him before he was a client.” Was that true, though? He was, after all, Lennox’s client. That hadn’t stopped him from going there with the man. It was immaterial, though. “You’re a great person and a talented businessman and it’s a pleasure to work with you, but I don’t have any interest in you that way.”

  “I don’t have any interest in you that way,” Stuart snapped. “But I don’t see why we can’t do more together that isn’t sexual, or just be more to each other. You let me help you tonight, didn’t you? I was the only person you trusted to be with you at the Black Box meeting.”

  “That’s true,” Elliot acknowledged. “Like I said, we collaborate well on a professional level. But that’s as far as I’m comfortable taking things.”

  “But it might not always be,” Stuart said pleadingly. “You keep saying that we’re supposed to dream big, right? Hope for a better tomorrow and then work to make it happen. That’s what I’m doing, Elliot! I’ve been working so hard, just hoping that you’ll see that I can be that person for you. Your cornerstone, your backup, your best friend. Nobody knows you like I do, not even Lennox.” He spat the name like it dirtied his mouth. “I want to know that I have a chance. I’m aware that I can be awkward and pushy, Serena went on and on about it the other day. But I can change! I will change, for you. You only have to let me. Let me in, and I know I can make your life better, like you’ve done for me.”

  He laughed nervously. “God, my heart is racing. This is the most important pitch of my life, so . . .” Stuart turned his glossy gaze on Elliot again. “How did I do, coach?”

  “Stuart . . . this . . .” Elliot took a steadying breath and folded his shaking hands together. This moment ranked just behind being shot as the most uncomfortable experience he’d ever been subjected to, and that included running into a mountain. “I think you need to leave Charmed Life.”