D-Boy

by Edward Kendrick

  “Slow down,” Brad said with a grin when Derek jumped out of the car and hurried around it. “You’re twenty-four now, not seventeen. You’re acting like a teenager.”

  Derek laughed. “I feel like one. Mel’s here already—” he pointed to the car in front of his “—so let’s get moving.”

  Just as Derek was about to press the doorbell, the door swung open. Seconds later, he was wrapped in a bear hug by Mel. Then Mel backed away to look at him. “You’ve grown up.”

  “Happens to everyone,” Charlie said, stepping forward to hug Derek too. “Come on, let’s go into the kitchen. I have coffee and a peach cobbler I made this afternoon. I was going to take it down to the diner but when Mel said you were coming over, I figured what the hell, save it for my ex-roommate.” He looked at Brad. “And his friend. You are?”

  “Brad Gordon. We work together.”

  “Nice to meet you, Brad.”

  When they were all seated at the table with coffee and cobbler, Mel said, “So tell us what’s been going on since we saw you last.”

  Derek glanced at Brad, who nodded, saying, “You said you trusted them.”

  “I do.”

  Derek gave them a very brief rundown of what had happened, starting with his being saved by Larson and Park and moving on from there. He left out the details, just hitting the high points of his work for the Company. When he finished, Mel and Charlie were looking at him with more than a bit of pride.

  “Knew you’d amount to something,” Charlie said, patting Derek’s back.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well I did. Now all you have to do is figure out who you are.”

  “About that. Well, I have.”

  “And you didn’t say anything,” Mel grumbled.

  Brad chuckled. “He seems to think it’s not important. He didn’t bother to tell me until after we’d, umm, discussed a lot of other things.”

  Charlie looked between them and grinned, making a circle of two fingers, running a third finger in and out of it. “Discussed? Is that the newest word for it?”

  Derek turned red, stuttering out, “What makes you think…?”

  “I’m not blind, kid. But right now that’s beside the point. Who are you? Who was your father?”

  “Someone you’ve never heard of I’m sure. Francesco Lamberti.”

  Charlie glanced at Mel. “Oh we’ve heard of him. He was a small-time racketeer, working for the Scordatos.”

  “Damn. I was hoping my aunt was wrong about that. I mean she didn’t say he worked for them, just that he was a crook. I thought maybe she said that because she didn’t like him.”

  “Sorry, kid, but that’s what he was, according to what we heard anyway, back when.”

  Brad gave Derek a quick hug, which had the other two men grinning with ‘I knew it’ looks.

  Mel asked, “Should we be calling you by your real name now, which from your phone call, I suspect is Matt.”

  “No. As far as I’m concerned, my real name is Derek. A good man gave it to me and it’s how I think of myself.”

  “Then Derek it is.”

  “Well, umm, only between us for now though. And I have a big favor to ask, Mel.”

  “Let me guess. You want your old job back for a while. Right?”

  “No, but if anyone asks if a Matt Lamberti works for you, could you tell them yes, but he’s taken a few days off because his brother’s in town?”

  “Brad being the brother?”

  “Yep,” Brad replied. “Only I’m Walt Lehane, his stepbrother.”

  “Walt Lehane. Got it. This have something to do with someone you’re trying to bring down?”

  Brad nodded. “Yes. And that’s all I can tell you.”

  “Understood.”

  “Thanks, Mel,” Derek said, gripping his hand momentarily.

  After that, the four men talked for a while more, Derek catching up on what had been going on with Mel and Charlie. At one point, Mel chastised Derek for not getting in touch long before now. Derek apologized, saying he had no excuse other than work had been keeping him busy and pretty much undercover.

  “And, honestly, I didn’t want to do anything that could endanger the two of you, which, given what I do now, was a real possibility.” He took a deep breath. “It still is, but…”

  “You needed my help,” Mel said then he smiled. “We’re big boys, Derek. We know the risks as well as you do and we’ll be careful.”

  Charlie agreed, and soon afterward, Derek and Brad left, promising to keep in touch.

  “They’re good people,” Brad commented on the way back to his hotel.

  “The best,” Derek agreed. “Them—and you.”

  Brad smiled. “I think I’m honored to be up there with them in your mind.”

  Derek grinned. “You should be.” Then, since they were at a red light at the moment, he leaned over and kissed him. “But I’d never kiss them,” he said, bringing his attention back to driving.

  “Hadn’t better,” Brad grumbled before he laughed and said, “They’re way too old for you.”

  * * * *

  Derek spent the night with Brad in his hotel room. It took some doing since both of them knew the man Brad was in contact with undoubtedly had someone watching the hotel.

  “They’d be stupid not to, and we’d be stupid to think they don’t,” Brad said when Derek pulled up on Seventeenth Street at the back side of the hotel.

  So, after dropping Brad off, Derek headed home. Once he was certain no one was watching his place, he changed into jeans and an old shirt, slipped out the back way and walked three blocks to a bus stop. An hour later, he was knocking on Brad’s door.

  * * * *

  Eight hours later, tired but happy, he was back home again. As he got off the elevator on his floor, he sighed, almost getting back on. Tim was leaning against the wall opposite his apartment and he did not look the least bit happy.

  Before Derek even got the key in the door, Tim asked, “Where the hell were you? And why do you look like a refugee off the streets? You need to shave.”

  Without replying, Derek got the door open and waited for Tim to go inside.

  “I asked you a question,” Tim said the second Derek closed the door.

  “Actually you asked two questions, and quite frankly, I’m not going to answer either of them. It’s none of your business what I do in my spare time.”

  “On a Monday night, you’re supposed to be home.”

  Derek cocked an eyebrow. “Are you telling me how to run my life?”

  “Well…” Tim backed down, replying, “I worry about you.”

  “And I appreciate that. But you won’t have to anymore.” Derek felt like a heel at the moment he said that. Tim was a nice man, but not his man. Not anymore.

  “Are you saying you’re breaking up with me?” Tim asked, looking both angry and distraught.

  Derek nodded. “I’m sorry, but I don’t need a keeper and you seem to be trying to make yourself into that. I like you. We’ve had some fun times, but I think we should both move on.”

  “You have to be kidding. I thought we had something going on between us—something more than just ‘fun times’, to use your words.”

  “I know you did,” Derek said quietly. “And I’m sorry. I should have said something, done something, before letting you think that this could be—” he spread his hands “—permanent.”

  For a second, it looked as if Tim was going to either hit Derek or cry. Then he turned, pulling the door open so hard it slammed against the wall. “You have no idea what you’re giving up,” he spat out angrily. “And when you realize it, don’t come begging for me to come back to you.” With that said, he stalked out of the apartment. Derek could hear him muttering “ungrateful bastard” as he made his way down to the elevator.

  Shaking his head, Derek closed and locked the door. Then he went to change clothes.

  I probably could have handled that better, but…

  * * * *

  “
I heard from my contact,” Brad said, when he called Derek early that afternoon.

  “That was fast. Where are you meeting him this time?”

  “The same place. They want the down payment.”

  “Do you want me to come along?”

  “No. Ghost me though, just in case. You have a tracking receiver?”

  Derek snorted. “Never leave home without one, when I’m supposed to ghost. What channel?” When Brad told him, Derek asked, “When’s this happening?”

  “Nine tonight.”

  “Good. That’ll give me time to do a complete check of the area around the bar and get set up.”

  “It didn’t strike me as a neighborhood with lots of transients hanging around.”

  “It’s not. Don’t worry; I’ll come up with something. Maybe I’ll borrow my neighbor’s dog for the evening.”

  Brad chuckled. “I doubt they’d like it if something does go down and you lose it.”

  “Good point. But if we don’t get off the phone, I’m not going to have a chance to figure out how to be there unobtrusively when the time comes.”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  “You too. You’re the one on the inside.”

  “I will be.” There was a brief pause. “Umm, yeah. Never mind.”

  “I like you too,” Derek replied softly. “As in ‘like’ like.”

  “I know. Same here. Now get moving.”

  As soon as they’d hung up, Derek went to shave, since he didn’t want to look, as Tim had put it, like a street refugee. Then he changed into casual slacks and a regular shirt, not a T-shirt, since the area around the bar consisted mainly of middle-class residential homes. He topped the look with a Rockies baseball cap.

  When he got close to the area, he found a place to park on a side street a block down and over from the bar. He wasn’t willing to be closer and have somebody recognize it from his last visit and wonder why he was back, especially since he wasn’t going to be with Brad. He got out and began strolling toward Thirty-Second Avenue, where the bar was located.

  There was a cut-through, between some stores on the avenue and a restaurant behind them, housed in what used to be someone’s home. He walked down to the end and a small grassy area. Across from him was the parking lot for the bar and a few adjoining shops, abutted on the back side by a long row of self-storage units. Trees at the edge of the lot shaded the cars parked there.

  He looked at the flat tops of the storage units.

  Not bad. Doable and I’ll be able to keep a good eye on the bar. Still…

  He returned to the street and continued his stroll down to the avenue. Tipping the Rockies cap forward, as if to keep the sun out of his eyes, he walked casually across the street and began perusing shop windows until he was at the corner of a residential street that ended at Thirty-Second. Right across from there was the bar. A few hundred feet down was a tiny park with one bench and several trees.

  A good place to watch for his arrival. He checked the time. Three hours. I’m just a bit early.

  Spotting an Italian restaurant two blocks down, he decided he might as well kill an hour or more by eating supper.

  Two hours later, unable to drag out sitting at the table with his second cup of coffee in front of him for one second longer, he paid his bill. After a quick stop in the restroom, he went back to the tiny park. It was dark now, except for the streetlights and headlights from passing cars. Settling on the bench, he kept a watchful eye on the bar.

  Almost exactly at nine, Derek saw Brad get out of a cab, pay the driver, and enter the bar. Now came the tricky part, as with any ghosting. He had to decide if he should keep watching the front of the bar or go back behind it. If there was going to be trouble, the chances were the people involved would leave by the back door, with or without Brad.

  So Derek opted for the back, figuring the odds were better there. If, for some unknown reason, they made Brad and took him out the front way, Derek would know via the tracker on Brad and act accordingly. When he got there, Derek made certain no one was aware of his presence then used a tree by the storage units to get to the roof. Lying flat on his stomach, he watched the rear of the bar.

  An hour later, his cell vibrated. Checking it, he saw four words, All good. Go home.

  Ah the joys of being an agent. Hurry up and wait and nothing happens. He chuckled softly and left the roof.

  * * * *

  When he arrived back at his apartment, Derek found Brad waiting for him. Not that he was terribly surprised, either that he was there or that he’d gotten into the place. After a quick hug and a not-so-quick kiss, they settled on the sofa.

  “Fortunately for us, my part is over now,” Brad said. “I met the money man for the group, a guy named Helton. And before you ask, I got his prints and Grant’s, without their being aware. We can have them run and find out who they really are. Our people back east will handle things when someone goes after my supposed ex-wife.”

  “So now what? You head back to New Orleans?”

  Brad tapped his fingers together. “Maybe, maybe not. That depends.”

  Derek nodded. “On where they want you next.” He wasn’t happy with that idea, but it was a fact of their lives.

  “Not really. At this point I can pick and choose where my home base is. I stayed in New Orleans because I didn’t have any reason not to, and I like the city.”

  “It’s…nice,” Derek said. “Too hot all the time, and sticky and touristy, but nice.”

  Brad chuckled. “As compared to here, where there are real seasons, and the tourists are less touristy?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So you’d recommend I move out here?”

  Derek nodded, trying to tamp down on a sudden swell of hope. “It’s a good place…for a home base.”

  “I agree. Hell, I could even learn to ski. And there’s this nice man who lives here that I’d like to get to know even better than I do already. That is, if he thinks that’s possible.”

  “I suspect he would.”

  “Good.” Brad got to his feet. “I should go ask him right now. Right?”

  Derek swallowed his disappointment. “Whatever. I suppose so.”

  Grinning, Brad pulled Derek to his feet. “So you wouldn’t mind if I moved here and got to know you much better?”

  Derek felt elation and relief sweep through him. “Hell no!”

  “Didn’t think so.” Nodding toward the bedroom, Brad said, “Shall we start now?”

  “Hell yes!”

  Chapter 13

  Three days later, after clearing it with both Samson and Larson, Brad found an apartment in Denver, not too far from Derek’s, and signed a lease. Then he went back to New Orleans just long enough to pack up what he wanted from his place there and bring it back with him.

  They had debated living together, but decided due to their jobs it might be wiser not to. As Brad pointed out, “There’s no sense in setting it up so we’re sitting ducks in one place, in case things go down the wrong way on a job.”

  Reluctantly, Derek agreed with the logic behind that. They would act as if they were just friends who occasionally got together for dinner. What happened after dinner, or any other night when it came down to it, was no one’s business but theirs. They intended to keep it that way, and to be very careful that nobody saw them entering or leaving each other’s buildings.

  Derek got a call from Larson the day after Brad got settled into his apartment. Derek was there, having spent the night helping him christen the apartment’s bedroom—and living room and…

  He smiled happily down at Brad as he leaned over him to get his phone off the nightstand.

  “Derek, Larson here. I have some information on your father.”

  “What?” Derek asked, instantly sitting up.

  “I’ll tell you when you get here. I’d rather do it in person.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour—or less.”

  Hanging up, Derek told Brad what Larson had said. “It can’t be good n
ews if he won’t tell me over the phone.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Brad swung his legs over the side of the bed. When Derek cocked an eyebrow in question, he said, “I’m coming with you.”

  “Thank you.” Derek felt a sense of relief that he wouldn’t have to face whatever the news was alone.

  They walked into Larson’s office almost an hour later on the dot. Larson looked surprised to see Brad there but didn’t say anything other than, “Take a seat, gentlemen.”

  They did, sitting across from Larson. Brad took Derek’s hand, interlacing their fingers, earning him a raised eyebrow and a knowing look from Larson.

  “Since you’re here, Brad, I just got a report from our people. Thanks in great part to the role you played, three of the four members of the murder for hire gang have been arrested.”

  “And the fourth one?”

  “He decided he’d rather go down fighting. He should have known better, since he used to be one of ours.”

  “Excellent. You’ll keep me updated on if and when they go to trial?”

  “Yes.” Larson glanced at the file sitting in front of him then turned his attention to Derek, saying, “To start with, your aunt was both right and wrong about your father, Derek. He was a small time racketeer. However, just before his death, he was set to turn state’s evidence against his bosses.”

  After assimilating that information, Derek said, “That’s why he was murdered?”

  “That’s the presumption. Unfortunately, the Feds didn’t know that was what had happened. Everything was set up. He and his family—your family—were supposed to be moved from a safe house downstate in Durango, up to Denver just before the trial. Afterwards, you would all have gone into the Witness Protection Program.”

  “But something screwed it up.”

  “As best the Feds can figure, he got cold feet. The day before the planned move, all of you disappeared. How and why he managed that—if he’s the one who did—is unclear. The people involved with the case searched for any evidence of what had happened. The presumption was he’d taken all of you and fled south, to Mexico. There were even a few unconfirmed sightings of him in Mexico City.”