Love Under Two Bad Boys

by Cara Covington

  “They’re both industrialists of conservative leanings with very deep pockets! I’d think that you’d be happy for their support.”

  “All that is true, but our objectives don’t align. They’re both heavily invested in firearm manufacturing and steel, and what’s good for their businesses is contrary to everything I stand for.”

  Kardigan didn’t think he misinterpreted the respect he read in Tremayne’s gaze. It was a look he’d hoped he’d see. There was only one thing that could turn this sweet situation he saw building before his very eyes to manure. For the moment, he was trusting his chief of staff, Sam Matthews, to handle what he was deliberately thinking of as the Assar complication. He might have to come up with a secondary plan. In fact, doing so would be the wisest course he could take.

  He liked having a man of Tremayne’s pedigree looking at him as if he was already the man’s Commander in Chief. If this man backed him, he wouldn’t need Assar.

  Tremayne nodded, slowly. “If you accepted their support, you’d feel honor bound to put their interests in your agenda.”

  “And that can only happen if the person whose interests I’m going to champion has the same priorities as I.

  “Frankly, Mr. Tremayne, you should know that should I be successful in my bid for the White House, it will be my objective to close the door to this country, and keep it closed. Our troops will come home, and we will keep our focus on making this nation the stronghold of right thinking and the new beginning it was meant to be.”

  For a long moment, Tremayne said nothing. Then he lifted the bottle of wine from its holder and refilled Kardigan’s glass. “Call me Gus since we’re going to be working together for the next couple of years. And son? You don’t need to go looking for any other contributors. I’ve a sound financial plan, as you likely know. I’ve also been skimming and tucking away against the day when I would be able to do my part to see my own dreams come to fruition. Congressman Kardigan, I’ve been waiting a very long time for you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Marc grinned as he sat back in the passenger seat of the Silver Bullet. Since he’d been back in Lusty he’d been working on re-connecting with his family. This day, he’d scooped up his oldest brother and then handed him the keys to his car. As he’d driven through town, Robbie had handled one of the world’s fastest cars with perfect decorum, driving politely and defensively, as if he was in their mother’s prized Lincoln.

  He took them out of town, toward the warehouse, and then kept driving. Marc blinked as he turned into a second facility about a mile farther on—a facility that had changed a great deal since the last time Marc had visited it.

  This used to be where the family’s outdoor gun range had been located, but now an impressive and quite large stone and glass building stood on the left, and a smaller, just as sleek structure awaited on the right. Both buildings had parking lots. Between the two lots, a road continued on straight ahead. That road led to another building, smaller than a house but bigger than a shed, single story, and painted white with yellow trim.

  Robert stopped the car and turned his attention to Marc. “The building on our left is an indoor shooting range-slash-full fitness center. Those who make their nickels and dimes in, shall we say, edge-of-the-envelope type careers are grateful for the Town Trust’s usual attention to detail. The complex is fully loaded. To the right is a fabricating-slash-manufacturing facility where those who dabble in inventions have every tool imaginable, including a few three-D printers, so they can invent to their heart’s content. There’s also a full service bio-chemistry lab there, which I mention to you under the heading of FYI. And straight ahead, brother, is a racetrack-slash-defensive driving course.”

  “Now that’s just perfect for us at the moment, isn’t it?”

  “It is indeed. We are required to get ourselves helmets. That is a hard and fast rule. This building before us has lots of them.”

  Marc had no problem with that rule and imagined his brother the doctor would have insisted on the safety precaution, regardless of anyone’s objections. Robbie drove ahead to the pretty white house, which didn’t have a parking lot. Likely because no one stayed inside for long.

  As he got out of the car, he could see the entrance to the track. Marc joined his brother as Robbie unlocked the door with his key, keyed in a code on the panel just inside, and then entered. He took a moment to peruse the array of items held here. Then he followed his brother’s lead, grabbed a helmet, and headed back outside. Robbie relocked the building then got into the car, behind the wheel.

  “The leather outfits in there are for the motorcycle enthusiasts?” Marc asked.

  “They are. Just a bit of extra protection.” Robbie shrugged. “If the Town Trust hadn’t insisted upon it, I would have.”

  It pleased Marc that despite the years apart, he had a good read on his brother. “I imagine you saw your share of horrors in Chicago.”

  “You have no idea.” Robert buckled in then looked at him. “What is this baby rated for, anyway?”

  “Top speed, two hundred fifty miles per hour. Zero to sixty in one point nine seconds, zero to one hundred in four point two. Distance-wise, at full charge, it’ll take you six hundred and twenty miles. And in the interest of full disclosure, this vehicle currently has a full charge.”

  Robert Jessop’s eyes bulged. “Holy shit! Okay, then, let’s do this.”

  Marc kept his attention on his brother as Robbie accelerated the Tesla Roadster—and thoroughly enjoyed the look of pleasure on his face as he did so. Robbie didn’t take it much above one hundred fifty, likely because, Marc figured, his follow-the-rules eldest brother had never driven so fast before. But he circled the half-mile track ten times, becoming familiar with the car. At the end of the tenth lap, he brought the car to a stop.

  “My God, what an experience! As I was driving through town, I kept thinking this thing must have stalled, but it hadn’t. There was difference, and it’s more than just it being a quite ride.” Robbie turned to look at him.

  Marc nodded. “There’s no vibration.”

  “That’s it! Man.” Robbie ran his hands over the steering wheel in a lover-like caress. He was clearly a man smitten. “I’ve always loved driving. Back in Chicago, I’d head out of town, drive the rural spaces of Illinois and even into Indiana, just to have some space from the chaos of work. I imagine taking a long drive out and about in this car would practically define tranquility.”

  “I think it does. I’ve done exactly that a few times since I’ve come home. Feel free to borrow it whenever you like—as long as I’m not using it.” Marc shrugged. “And since I don’t plan on going anywhere for a while—” He left the sentence unfinished.

  “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you’d share.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Let’s head on over to the range,” Robbie said. “Aside from the fact that I want you to see the place, it’s been nearly a month since I’ve practiced.”

  “Well hell, if I’d known, I’d have brought my Glock.” Funny, but he hadn’t noticed his brother carrying a gun when they left his house.

  “No need. Like I said, the place is fully loaded. I didn’t bring my weapon, either.”

  They returned the helmets then drove the short distance to the largest building. Moments later, he was following Robbie inside. Marc didn’t completely understand his urge to spend time with this brother until they were inside the gun range. But he’d been thinking of the night before when his nightmares had awakened April. She’d made a suggestion about sharing his experiences with Shar, but there was another family member he’d feel more comfortable baring his soul to—his oldest brother, who also happened to be a doctor who’d studied more than just physical healing.

  Marc thought if the opportunity arose, he’d do just that. In the meantime, he brought himself back to the moment, taking in his surroundings. There were double-locked cabinets with weapons and double-locked cabinets with ammunition. There was a room whe
re any who wanted to—and many, apparently, did—could load their own shells and casings, making their own ammunition.

  Marc took a Glock, the ammo he’d need, and, of course, ear protection.

  Before he’d left Lusty all those years before, Marc had made regular monthly treks to the range with his brothers and cousins. Growing up in Lusty, they all had learned self-defense as well as the competent use of firearms—handguns as well as long guns.

  In his recollection, his cousin Jordan Kendall had been the best among them with long guns. He’d even won some state-wide competitions. Robbie, as he recalled, had been competent, but not expert—not the way he was now.

  Watching his brother’s stance and the look in his eyes as he aimed and fired alerted Marc. Something had happened to his big brother—something life-altering.

  Since that was a reality Marc could identify with, he made a decision, then and there.

  When it was his turn, he stepped up to the mark, put his ear protection in place, and emptied his five-shot clip in a definite pattern center of the target.

  Robbie stepped forward and pressed the button to bring the target forward. He stared at the page for a long moment. Marc stepped forward and splayed his left hand. There was a hole at the tip of each finger, as well as his thumb.

  Robbie met his gaze. “Well, now.”

  “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  “Let’s clean up our mess first. Then we can take our discussion into the kitchen.

  It didn’t take long to do just that. Nothing, of course, was wasted. There was a gallon container where all the casings went. Marc figured it was not quite half full.

  “Gord comes by occasionally and sorts through these. He likes to make ammo, as do Jordan and Adam as well as Dev Wakefield and Drew James, Julia’s husbands.”

  “They were SEALs, weren’t they?”

  “They were.”

  They cleaned and stored their weapons and disinfected the ear protection they’d borrowed. Then Robbie took him on a tour of the rest of the place. It had a full weight room as well as everything else from ellipticals to yoga mats.

  “What, no pool?” Marc was proud of his smirk.

  “Plans are in the works. Likely by this time next year.”

  Marc just shook his head. The family had been good about seeing to it that the genuine needs of the town, as a whole, were met.

  As his eyes roamed the site, a truth hit home, and he decided to share his small epiphany with his oldest brother. “One of the things I was mentally grumbling about when I first came back was how much things had changed. I chided myself for selfishly wanting Lusty to have marked-time while I was gone. But the truth is that, fundamentally, nothing’s changed.”

  “David and I were only gone for five years, but yeah, I hear you. It was a bit before we found our rhythm here again. Of course, shortly after we arrived home, Jillian came to Lusty.”

  “And you knew as soon as you laid eyes on her, she was the sub for you.”

  Robbie tilted his head to the side. “You’re the only one of my brothers who’s a down-to-the-bone Dom.”

  “Being a Dom is all about control for me. Relationship-wise, though, it’s the kink.”

  Robbie grinned. “Yeah, me, too. This is the kitchen.”

  “What the hell did we do before these one-cup coffee makers?” Marc waited for his cup to fill.

  “Instant coffee,” Robbie answered. “Out at the airfield, they still have a beverage machine. It makes me shudder just thinking about it.”

  His brother retrieved a tin of cookies from the small freezer and set some of them out on a plate. A few seconds in the microwave, and Marc was reaching for one of the things about Lusty that he’d truly missed—Anna Jessop’s pecan cookies.

  “I was in charge of the emergency department of an inner city hospital in Chicago. There were a lot of GSWs, knife wounds, and people showing up battered and beaten.” Robbie shook his head. “I had a patient, a young man named Bobby Barnes. He’d been raised by a single mom who had a younger son. She struggled hard to keep her kids on the straight and narrow. Bobby had gotten pulled into a gang about a year or so before we decided to come home. I met him, and his mother, when Bobby showed up in my ER, shot. Not a life-threatening wound, but bad enough.

  “That bullet was a wake-up call for him. He began to ease away from the gang and was working to get his grades up. I hired him to do some work around our place, and I got him involved in some youth programs.”

  Marc watched his brother’s eyes and knew when he’d surrendered to the memory.

  “Man, that Bobby was crazy smart. A good kid at heart because it was seeing his mom fall apart when he got shot that woke him up to the way he was throwing his life away. It took him some time to begin to sever those ties—and while he stopped breaking the law, he never turned his back on those kids completely.” Robert sighed. “I’d set up a scholarship for him—anonymously, of course. He was very close to making that right choice. And then one night, he became collateral damage in a turf war. They brought him in, but when I saw him, he was gone. Fucking broke my heart.”

  “Because he’d become yours.”

  “Yeah. He’d become mine.”

  For Robert Jessop, more than for most, Marc knew, the loss of this street kid his brother had considered his own would have been a sharp, horrible, gaping wound. Robert Jessop cared—maybe a bit too much. “Where are Bobby’s mom and brother today?”

  “Lilian and Jimmy,” Robbie said. “Rural Indiana. Living with Lilian’s parents, who are elderly. She took some classes and is working only one job now, a good paying one as a legal secretary. She’s also supervising her parents and helping Jimmy get ready for college.”

  Marc didn’t ask because he knew. Robbie had gotten that family out of the inner city and was likely underwriting Jimmy’s education, too.

  Robbie focused his gaze on Marc. Here was the big brother who’d ridden herd on his four younger siblings. “Can you tell me, little brother, what you’ve been doing for the last ten years? I thought you’d found your dream job when you’d hired on at the CDC.”

  “And so I had. With my degrees behind me and the Jessop smarts, I was excited to be working toward the greater good—because the world was full of diseases that needed to be eradicated, and how could I serve the greater good better than that?”

  Robbie nodded. “Obviously something.”

  “Yeah, namely looking for and eradicating biological and chemical agents being developed for use as weapons by what the current intelligence lingo refers to as ‘bad actors.’”

  “You were CIA?”

  “Yeah. Let’s just say it’s been an interesting life.”

  “Was your departure from that agency as sudden as it feels to me like it was?”

  “You always did have good instincts where I’m concerned, big brother. Yeah, you could say that.” Marc inhaled deeply then let it out. He met his brother’s steady, compassionate gaze. “I was captured by a band of insurgents and held for a week that wasn’t…pleasant. The good news, of course, is that the good guys showed up and rescued me. The bad news? The nightmares. They were intermittent, right from my first day back in the country. And I thought—I really thought they were beginning to level off, to dissipate.” This was Robbie, his brother, and he trusted him even more than he trusted his lovers. He hated that was the truth, but there was nothing he could do about it. And because he trusted him, he could be completely honest, something he hadn’t yet been able to bring himself to be with Jeremy or April.

  “Over the last few weeks they’ve returned with a vengeance, and they’re getting worse. But even more shitty than that? I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something I need to remember. Something vital. My instincts are telling me something very dangerous is hovering just out of sight, and I sense that I’m the only person who can do anything about it. Or I would be—if I could only remember.”

  * * * *

  While Marc was spending
some hopefully quality time with his oldest brother, Jeremy had accompanied April to Austin. She needed to grab some extra clothes, check her apartment, and grab her mail. She hadn’t planned on being away from her apartment this long, even though she’d decided to stick around Lusty for a little bit, once the Featherstone case had been closed.

  Even then she might have headed back to Austin or even hustled up more business, but that enormous bonus Mrs. Featherstone left gave her a few more options. Her instincts had been encouraging her to stay in that sleepy little town for a while. Now she understood why.

  She hadn’t imagined, couldn’t have imagined, that she would ever find even one person she could feel connected to and comfortable with, never mind two. But that was exactly what had happened.

  April Bixby unlocked the beige door at the top of the outside staircase attached to a building that had once been a large, single family Victorian. Nestled in an older, quiet neighborhood, this modified house had drawn her when she’d felt a bit wobbly, leaving her parents’ home after the kidnapping.

  She’d believed at the time that if she didn’t take that step, if she didn’t find some starch and do the tough thing, she could end up spending the rest of her life living in her parents’ basement. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

  She hadn’t wanted to be a woman trapped in fear. April had wanted to claim back her future—her life.

  She rented one of the four units that now existed within this repurposed house. Inside her apartment, she’d left two small windows—the one in her kitchen over the sink and the one in her bathroom—cracked open an inch or so. Her father had installed those windows which could not be opened further from the outside, just last year.

  Sometimes April ended up being out of town for longer than she guessed she would be. Those windows ensured she didn’t come back to a completely stuffy environment.