After a night
of getting freaking lucky with an insatiable Stanford cheerleader in a
five-star Los Angeles hotel, Dylan Bradford crawled out of bed only minutes
before his scheduled pick up. With no time to waste, he threw on some clothes,
tossed his stuff in his bag, and made his way to the lobby and the car. As the
moved into traffic, the limo driver mournfully relayed the news most the rest
of the world had already witnessed.

New York
City was under attack.

Much of the
city had been wiped out. DC, too. The information they got from the car radio
was jumbled and piecemeal. Dylan couldn’t tell fact from rumor, but this was a
hell of a bad time to be two-thousand miles away from home.

His head
reeled with the each update. His mother and sister were in the city. He didn’t
know for sure where the rest of his extended family was at the moment. His
uncle was likely in Washington, DC, and his grandfather had probably gone to
his Twin Towers office, which was now nothing but dust. If the radio could be
believed.

And maybe it
couldn’t.

The
Bradfords had been involved in enough news stories in the past for Dylan to
know how often the media got the facts completely wrong. But it worried him
that he couldn’t get through to any of his family by cell phone. All the
satellite signals were probably jammed from overuse

When he got
out of the car at LAX’s charter hangers, the horrific news of the day gripped
the place like a death sentence. People moved in an eerie slow-motion dance to
a soundless undercurrent of fear. They wanted to do something. Go somewhere.
But there was nothing to do and nowhere to go. No planes to board. All flights
had been grounded.

Would-be
travelers gathered transfixed by the television screens that revealed awful,
unbelievable scenes from two of the world’s most invincible cities. Like
everyone else, Dylan watched the news unfold as he clutched his phone,
desperately trying to reach home.

“Hey,
Bradford!” Dylan turned to find Ryan Eastham jogging toward him, duffle bag
thrown over his shoulder. “There you are, dude.”

Dylan shook
his head at the appearance of his school friend. “Yeah, but why are you here?
How’d the practice go?”

“It was
fine, you know. But I’d seen all I needed to see. When I heard about the Twin
Towers, I figured you’d be headed home. I need to get back to school for this
weekend’s game, and I want to go to St. Louis first. Have you talked to your
family?”

“Can’t get
through. All the lines to New York are shut down while it’s in chaos.”

“When’s
your flight?”

“God knows.
Nothing’s flying. Every non-essential plane has been grounded until further
notice.”

“That’s
bad.”

Dylan
watched a pretty girl with a killer rack at a check-in podium turning
all-comers away with a sympathetic smile and shake of her head. But he usually
had good luck with pretty girls. They didn’t turn him down very often. “Maybe I
can talk my way onto something.”

This pretty
girl’s nametag indicated she was Alyssa, but she was no pushover. Any other
day, she might have been interested in smooth-talker rich-kid Dylan Bradford. But
just-rolled-out of-bed, desperate-to-get-home Dylan Bradford had a sad story to
tell just like everyone else at the airport that day.

“But my
uncle’s a senator,” he said, pulling out all the stops to impress her.

“How nice
for him.” A movie star would probably have impressed her more than a
politician, even though the politician happened to be the chairman of the
Senate Armed Services committee. “Is he here with you in LA?”

“He’s in
Washington. Or New York.” Dylan’s anxious smile felt forced. “I can’t get calls
through to him, and I’m worried.”

“I heard
that senators who were at the Capitol Building have been moved to a secure
location.” Alyssa tossed her hair back and batted her eyelashes at him. Maybe
he had grabbed her interest.

“My mother and
sister are in New York. My Grandfather’s brokerage has offices on the upper
levels of the Twin Towers. I know a lot of people who work there, and the
building’s just collapsed into a pile of rubble. I really need to get back
home.” He grimaced as he realized the nervous tremor in his voice was genuine.

Alyssa’s
expression softened. “I sympathize with your situation, Mr. Bradford, but this
airport is officially shut down. You can’t go to New York today. You can’t go
to DC. You can’t go to Philadelphia, or Hartford either. You can’t go anywhere.
Not by plane anyway.”

He shook
his head at her sad lack of cooperation. “I’ll figure it out for myself. Thanks
for your help.” Grabbing Ryan’s arm, Dylan pulled him away from the desk.

“I wonder
if Amtrak is running,” the football player ventured.

“Man, that
would take forever.”

“Yeah, my
mom took the train from St. Louis to Kansas City once, and it sucked. I guess
it would be even worse during a national emergency.”

Dylan
pushed his hair off his forehead, trying to think of faster alternatives.
“Let’s rent a car.”

Ryan shook
his head. “I heard all the rentals are already gone. Besides, we’re too young.”

Dylan
paced. “Where’s your driver from this morning?”

“A campus
van dropped me off and left. I can call the school and have them send someone
for us, but they probably won’t drive us all the way to St. Louis and New
York.”

Ryan was a
good kid, but sometimes the Mid-western jock was too naïve for his own good.
“They would if we offered them enough money.”

The
football player’s eyes lit up. “Hey, why don’t we
buy
a car? Something really cool like a Porsche or a Ferrari or a
Maserati.”

Perfect.
They could split the driving and get home in no time. “Why didn’t I think of
that? Maybe by the time we get to St. Louis, planes will be flying again. Let’s
take a taxi to the nearest dealership and see what the Black Card will get us.”

They headed
toward the exit when another kid stepped in front of them, blocking their way.
“You guys are going to drive east? How long will that take?”

Dylan
narrowed his eyes, evaluating this intruder. How long had he been listening in
on their conversation? What kind of a freak show was he? “What do you care?”

“I want to
go too,” the kid said with a southern drawl.

Three
drivers might be better than two. But in a world gone mad, Dylan didn’t want to
travel cross-country with just anyone. “Where you going?”

“Atlanta.”

Ryan shook
his head. “That’s not on our way.”

“Just take
me as far as you can, and I’ll handle it from there. I kinda need to get home.”

“Join the
club, dude.” Dylan shoved his way past Southern Boy. “That’s what everyone here
wants. Why should we take you with us?”

“Three
drivers are better than two. And I’ll pay for a third of the car. Or all of it.
Otherwise, I’ll just go with you to the dealership and head out on my own.”

Determined
bastard. “Who are you?”

“Wyatt
Maitland.”

That
figured. Dylan had heard of him. He’d met Wyatt’s cousin Chase last year when
the southerner had dated Dylan’s sister. Good family. Wyatt was probably okay.
With Ryan in the car for muscle, they could overpower and shove him out on the
side of the road if he caused any trouble.

“Like the
Wyatt’s Department Stores?” Ryan asked.

“Yep. And
National Package Delivery.”

“Cool,”
Ryan said. “You got any ID?”

“You’ll see
it when I buy the car.”

“I guess we
will. Come on then.” Dylan continued toward the exit.

Ryan rubbed
his hands together like they were starting an adventure. “Let’s go get a fast
car with a screaming sound system.”

Maitland
shook his head. “
Not
a Porsche,
Ferrari, or a Maserati.”

“Why not?”

“Too
small,” Dylan said, explaining the obvious. “We’ve got a long way to go, and
we’re all at least six-feet tall.”

“Especially
the walking logo,” Maitland said as they queued up at the taxi stand. “What are
you anyway? A bodybuilder?”

“Football
player,” Ryan answered. “Stanford wants to recruit me, and I came to LA to
practice with the team.” He stuck out his hand for Wyatt to shake. “Ryan
Eastham.”

“Then all
that Eastham gear you’re wearing isn’t just a coincidence? You’re damn near a
human calling card.”

Dylan would
have slugged Southern Boy for that comment. But Ryan shrugged it off. “My dad
likes for me to wear his company’s stuff. He’s proud of it and of me.”

“I’ll bet
he is.”

And he had
good reason to be. Over the next two days, Dylan was thankful to Ryan any
number of times. No matter what happened or whose temper flared, the football
player smoothed things over and calmed all of them down.

As they
traveled cross-country in the newly-purchased Lincoln Navigator, they split
travel expenses three ways. Tense and nervous the first few hours, the three of
them spent more time trying to use their cellphones than they did observing
their surroundings and each other.

As horrific
as September eleventh turned out to be, by the time they reached Nevada, Dylan
had talked to his mom, uncle, and grandfather. His uncle had lost friends at
the Pentagon. His grandfather hadn’t been in the Twin Towers, but his brokerage
had been wiped out, along with about half of his employees. Dylan took personal
comfort in knowing his family members were safe, but he still wanted to get
there and see them for himself. And do what he could to help and support one of
his home cities, no matter how little help he could provide.

By the time
they reached Albuquerque, Ryan admitted he wasn’t just anxious to get back to
his team for the upcoming football game. His parents had separated over the
weekend, and it looked like they were headed for a divorce. Despite his
concern, his usual sunny nature reasserted itself. He predicted that his family
would take the hit, but in the end, they would bounce back and be just fine.
Just like the country would rebound.

And by the
time they reached Winslow, Arizona, even Wyatt loosened up enough to reveal
that his father had suffered a massive heart attack and was being kept on life
support until all the family had a chance to gather. Turning tragedy into
scandal, the heart attack had occurred while the revered judge was handcuffed
to his mistress’s bed.

With the
worst behind them, the trio talked non-stop of other things. Joking, teasing,
bragging, and sharing their opinions on the benefits and drawbacks of being
over-privileged sons from renowned families. About how that honor came with
expectations and responsibilities most other teenagers could never imagine.

They
reached St. Louis to discover that Dylan’s uncle had arranged for his nephew to
travel on a military flight to New Jersey. That was close enough for him to get
a ride into New York City.

Despite his
close relationship with his mother, Ryan moved in with his father, knowing even
then that his dad would need his son the most. And the football player kept the
car.

Wyatt’s
mother had sent her housekeeper’s husband, Jonah, to drive Wyatt to Atlanta.
They made it back in time for him to say his final good-bye to his father.

Three boys,
each with differing temperaments and backgrounds, but each destined to be a
billionaire in a few short years, had formed a friendship. An unbreakable bond.

A
brotherhood.

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