“Maybe he knew what we’d say if given a mic and the chance,” Connor muttered.
Someone shushed them, and that had them all grinning. It was good to know that twenty plus years later, they could still get into trouble.
Gabe sighed as he caught sight of the urn again. They’d always been good at getting into trouble. Now Gabe would have one last opportunity to clean up Mad’s mess.
• • •
A
n hour later, Gabe settled his sister into a limo. The crowd was finally starting to thin out. So many people, and they were all a blur to Gabe. He’d kept his head down, hoping he didn’t have to talk too much. Funerals, he’d discovered, annoyed him mightily. Just when he needed to be alone to mourn and think, he found himself surrounded by others. He didn’t need to comfort a bunch of people who hadn’t really been close to Mad. He needed to comfort the one who had been the closest.
Or at least she’d thought so. But his sister was overwrought and battling morning sickness that lasted long into the afternoon, so he was letting her go.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay out at the beach? I’m sorry I
can’t leave the city for a couple of weeks. There’s too much to do. I’m meeting with Mad’s lawyer Monday, and I need to spend the weekend prepping. At the very least, I’m going to have to deal with the foundation or whatever group he left the company to.”
Sara nodded. Her demeanor appeared perfectly calm, but he didn’t miss the way her hands fisted around the handkerchief on her lap. “We’ll be okay. The Hamptons are quiet this time of year. I’ll stay for a while and think things through. After the news has died down, I can come back and have the baby. If anyone asks, I’ll say I had a fling when I traveled to Paris on business in June.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I really believed that if he had time to think, to miss what we had, he’d come back. That will never happen now.”
“Sara, I know you loved him, but he was only a man. And not always a good one.”
Tavia Gordon, racing from the building, snagged his gaze. He wondered vaguely how she ran in those towering shoes. Shaking his head, he stepped between Sara and Tavia to block his sister’s view. He didn’t want her to be hurt any more by coming face-to-face with Mad’s possible mistress.
Sara frowned, the cool breeze tugging at the few loose tendrils of her golden hair. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. You go on. Take care. I’ll call you after I meet with the lawyer.” He needed to figure out how big the clusterfuck was. Crawford Industries should go to Mad’s heir. Gabe intended to fight the will to ensure his niece’s or nephew’s future.
She nodded. As Gabe closed the door, she turned to the driver. Then the limo pulled onto Eighty-fourth Street. As he watched the car roll out of sight, another woman caught his eye.
She stood out in the crowd. Short and curvy, with a massive amount of wavy strawberry-blond hair, she was like a sprite among the elven supermodels. Every other woman walking down the street looked emaciated and fashionably plastic to him, but Little Red was obviously not a devotee of surgical beauty. No, those breasts were real.
Gabe couldn’t take his damn eyes off them. They weren’t huge, but a nice handful, he estimated. They would be soft. He could tell from the way they moved. She wore a black dress with tiny white dots and a Tiffany blue belt that cinched her waist, showing off her hourglass figure. He pinned her age somewhere close to twenty-five, maybe a year or two older, but something about her—maybe her fair skin and curls—drew him in.
“Hey, I thought I lost you.” A young man in a stylish suit caught up to her and slid his hand into hers.
Had she been in the church? No. Surely he would have noticed her. Besides, he knew high-quality clothes when he saw them and hers, while pretty, were mass-produced and inexpensive. Her shoes were well made but not designer, and her purse looked a little like a burlap sack. Doubtful that she was one of the label whores exiting Mad’s funeral.
As they walked by, she smiled up at the man, her unabashed affection hitting Gabe straight in the gut. How long had it been since a woman looked at him while her obvious joy lit up his world? Maybe never. The women he dated always had their eyes on a prize: moving up in the world. No matter how nice they seemed, they were ambitious females on the prowl, always looking for more money, more power, a better social position. They didn’t want him; they wanted the life he could provide. Which meant that the women he dated didn’t hold hands as they walked down the street. Nor did they smile up at him brilliantly with undisguised sensuality. They sure as hell didn’t have soft, real breasts that bounced gently with every step.
Gabe watched as the couple made their way down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner. He hissed. She had a spectacular ass, too. Simply watching her curves made his whole body heat up. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
Sex had become a rote activity, something he did because he needed it. But watching the girl with the strawberry-colored hair, he realized how long it had been since he’d simply wanted a woman because she
flipped his switch. He hadn’t seen her at the funeral, so he had to think she was just another pretty girl taking in an autumn afternoon in Manhattan.
He stared at the space where she’d been standing. If she hadn’t been holding hands with another man, he probably would have been a schmuck and followed her. It was just as well she wasn’t available since he had a job to do.
Gabe sighed and started back up the steps. The others were waiting for him at a bar down the street. A good deal of Mad’s friends and coworkers were meeting for a few hours of drinking and storytelling and trying to forget that Mad was gone forever. He stepped back into the church and was assaulted by the silence. So quiet now. He could hear his footsteps as he crossed the floor.
The cathedral was beautiful with its marbled arches and bronze doors, but it seemed cold to him. Pretty and empty without people to animate it. A little like his life had become. Materially, he had everything a man could ask for, and he was starting to wonder if any of it was worth the work. He’d gone numb. That girl on the street was the first time in months that he’d felt something beyond anger, anxiety, and sorrow.
No matter what had happened between Mad and Sara, the grief over his friend’s passing lodged in his gut—for the man he’d known more than half his life and for everything that should have been.
Damn, he wished the last words they would ever exchange hadn’t been said in anger. He couldn’t help but think that during his final encounter with Mad, he’d told his best friend that he wanted him dead.
That night, he had been.
Gabe stepped into the chapel, searching for the priest who had performed the service. Tradition required the family of the deceased to make a “donation” to the church. Mad hadn’t had any remaining family, and he’d written Gabe a letter with the directions for his funeral, should anything happen to him. As pissed as Gabe had been
at the man, there had been a time when they’d been closer than brothers. Executing this duty was up to him, so Gabe had a check for ten thousand in his pocket for the priest. If only he could find the man.
As he trekked inside and looked up the aisle, he stopped because he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. A man in a dark suit stood in front of Maddox’s urn, his head down. His shoulders moved, and he turned slightly so Gabe could see his square jaw and the set of his brow.
An odd sense of relief swept through Gabe. He’d come. Somehow, even though he’d been told otherwise, he’d expected all his friends to be here to mourn the loss of one of their own.
“Mr. President, your detail sucks. I could have snuck up on you.”
The president of the United States straightened but didn’t turn. “I think you would find that task difficult, to say the least. My detail is surprisingly attentive.”
That was when he noticed three red dots of light on his chest. He scanned the sanctuary and found the snipers. Yes, he could be dead in about two point three seconds. “Damn, Zack. Could you tell them who I am and not to shoot?”
Zack turned and flashed one of his rare grins. The quiet man had been cold and shut down since his wife’s murder two years ago. Gabe couldn’t think of the event in any other way. Joy Hayes had been cut down during a campaign rally. He’d been standing in the crowd with Dax and Mad. Sometimes, he could still hear that shot and the resulting screams. He could still see Zack’s face as he realized Joy was gone. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he saw Zack holding his dead wife to his chest while the Secret Service did their damnedest to haul him away. He’d won the election in a landslide three days later.
It was good to see his old friend smile again.
“Gentlemen, this is Gabriel Bond. I doubt he’s here to hurt me. Please don’t take out one of my oldest friends.” Zack strode down the aisle and his grin faded. He put out his hand. “We’ve already lost enough today.”
“We certainly have.” Gabe took Zack’s hand but hauled him in for a manly hug. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”
Zack stepped away, his eyes tired as he put a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “You, too. You have no idea. How are you holding up? I know you two weren’t on great terms when he died, but this has to be hard on you. You were the closest to Mad.”
Gabe thought about lying, but he couldn’t. “It’s fucking hard. I’m struggling to believe that he’s really gone. I looked at myself in the mirror after I got the news. Do you know what I saw? A man who learned how to properly knot a tie because Maddox Crawford taught him. I kissed my first girl because Mad engineered the situation.”
Zack nodded. “And I found my first real friends because Mad sat next to me in class one day and cheated off my pre-algebra exam. That was the first time I sat at your lunch table. He told me he could use me so we might as well be friends. At least that’s what he said. I found out later the asshole was a mathematical genius and he hadn’t cheated at all.”
“I figured his scheme out when we were in college. He came up with a reason for us to hang out together until the group was tight. Mad gathered us together. He wanted a family since his didn’t give a shit about him, so he made one for himself. It’s interesting that he chose outsiders. I guess he always considered himself one of us, even after we became the popular kids. Maybe because he knew he could count on us.”
Gabe needed a freaking drink. Or twelve. God, he needed to sit and bond with his pack, to remind himself that he belonged somewhere.
“Is there any way you can ditch the snipers and come down to the pub with us?” he asked. “We’re meeting at this place down the street. All of us. Me, Roman, Connor, and Dax. The guys would love to see you.”
Gabe didn’t mention that he needed Zack, needed the gang together even though they would never be whole again. What had happened?
He’d thought they would go to each other’s weddings. Dax had eloped in Vegas, and none of them had been there, though they had thrown him one hell of a divorce party two years later. Zack had been the only one of them who had gotten married with proper pomp and circumstance, before it had ended in horror.
Now Mad had suddenly met his maker after a tragic, unexpected death. They needed something good.
Zack’s grin was back. “Roman won’t be happy to see me. In fact, he’ll be perfectly dismayed, but I think if we sneak in the back, we can manage an hour or so. Maybe two. I’m not due back in DC for a bit. What do you say, Thomas?” He looked to his left.
Gabe followed his line of sight and saw a tall African-American man in a black suit. He stood at least six foot five and was built like a linebacker. Even indoors, he wore mirrored aviators and looked like the badass he certainly was. “I think you’ve gone insane, Mr. President.” He smiled, showing even, white teeth. “You also know I love a challenge. Give me five to scope the logistics, then we’ll move. I smuggled you in here without the press noticing. I’ll get you in there, too.” He took a cell phone out of his pocket and hit a button. “The Professor is thirsty, boys. We’re going to get the boss a drink.”
Zack sighed. “The Secret Service loves me. I hope this bar has a back room.”
“If they don’t, we’ll make one, Mr. President.” It was still surreal to think his boyhood friend was the most powerful man in the free world.
Zack shook his head. “Please don’t call me that, Gabe. Let me pretend to be Zack for an hour or so.”
Gabe knew exactly what Zack needed. “Oh, if you want to feel like one of the guys, we can do that for you. In fact, we’ll be happy to remind you of the days you were a dumbass kid, Scooter.”
Zack groaned, but at least something besides desolation lit his eyes. “Don’t call me that, either. It’s bad enough that my Secret Service call
sign is The Professor. I don’t need to be reminded about that damn scooter incident.”
But the scooter incident had been so much fun. “I promise nothing.”
• • •
E
verly Parker looked around the swanky bar and felt out of place. This wasn’t her crowd, even though she worked with some of these people. She wasn’t a big bar hopper. She didn’t watch the clock and wait for five p.m. so she could hit her favorite watering hole. No, she was a work-long-hours-and-go-home-to-a-good-book-and-hot-bath kind of girl. But tonight she wanted to be someone else—anyone who hadn’t buried her mentor and friend an hour ago and wasn’t now staring down the possibility of losing both her job and the roof over her head.
“Hey, are you going to nurse that drink all night long?” Scott Wilcox leaned over and winked. He was on his third margarita. “Because I think you should down a few glasses of wine and be my wingwoman. Harry from accounting is here and I swear I’m going to die if I don’t go out with that hunk of man soon. He’s the only truly beautiful boy at work. He should be mine.”
Everly smiled. After she’d started at Crawford last year, she’d met Scott during her orientation. Initially, she’d mistaken his playful nature for a come-on. But he’d finagled her into having coffee with him shortly thereafter and apologized for giving her the wrong impression. He’d admitted that he hadn’t been himself because he’d recently been through a rough breakup with his boyfriend. Scott sometimes used his happy-go-lucky face to mask his somber moods. To finally see him let go of his lost love and dip his toe in the dating pool with a hot guy thrilled her.