by Cindy Dees
“Nah. No way,” Jack interjected.
Stone ignored the interruption. “If you want to go back to the party in a little while as yourself, as long as you do exactly what I say and you let the hotel security guys and me stick to you like glue, I can allow you to spend a little time in the crowd. It should provide you with enough cover to make the risk acceptable.”
“Listen here, Jackson. You’re a fucking bodyguard. You don’t tell me what to do. If I want to—”
Stone cut him off, letting every intimidating impulse he’d ever experienced roar forth. He stood to his full height, swelled out his chest, and leaned forward to glare into the senator’s eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t work for you. I work for your wife. And she doesn’t give a fuck what you want right now.”
Lacey spluttered. “She’s here?”
“Oh yeah,” Stone replied coldly. “Been here a couple of days, covering your ass. She knows all about Chesty and the Wrastle Castle.”
“Oh shit.”
Christian piped up. “Valerie’s in town too. She’s spitting mad that she hasn’t been able to speak with you all this time. I’ve been putting her off with excuses, but she thinks you’re avoiding her.”
“Hell yeah, I’m avoiding her! She wants me to marry her, for fuck’s sake.”
“Do you want to marry her?” Stone asked, curious about the man he’d been impersonating.
“Hell no. If I wanted to get hitched to her, I’d a’ done it back before I ever ran for the Senate. She’s not political wife material.”
Stone snorted at that pithy observation.
Christian dived in. “Stone’s plan makes sense, sir. Make the speech and then get under cover immediately. We’ve received a credible death threat that you need to take seriously. We have good reason to believe an attacker will strike tonight.”
Jack laughed. He laughed. Stone stared at him in open shock. What in the ever-loving hell was wrong with the guy?
The senator slapped Christian a little too hard on the shoulder. “Son, the death-threat thing was a publicity stunt I cooked up with Valerie. She wrote and sent the emails to help boost public sympathy for me. We figured I might need a little help with my polling numbers when I ask Jill for a divorce.”
“You can’t divorce your wife before the election!” Christian exclaimed. “At least not if you want to win. Jill’s more popular than you by thirty percentage points.”
“Your mistress, Valerie, sent the threats?” Stone asked, still stuck on that bombshell.
Jack replied cheerfully, “That whole stalker thing was fake. No one’s trying to kill me. Now let me make my damned speech. I’ll just go upstairs and change into my tux—”
“No time, sir,” Christian said. “You’re due on stage, right now.”
Lacey held a hand out to Stone. “Give me the fucking speech.”
At the end of the day, the man was a sitting United States senator. Stone couldn’t very well refuse to let Jack Lacey be himself if there was no threat to his life. He fished out the papers and passed them to Lacey.
Christian unlocked the bathroom door, and the three of them hurried back toward the stage.
“What’s this I hear about you kissing Christian on the beach? I had texts coming in the whole damned flight back here to ask if I was gay or not. Jesus Christ. I’m not a fag!”
Clearly, he was a bigot, however.
“Sir,” Christian hissed. “I told you that you can’t use that word.”
“Aww, c’mon. You’re an okay fag. I hired you, didn’t I? Got a bunch of votes for being progressive too.” A pause. “Hell, you even turned out to be a decent staffer.”
Stone spied shock in Christian’s eyes. He wasn’t aware he’d been hired as a publicity stunt, huh? Wow. That sucked.
They hurried to the stage, and the emcee spied Jack and Stone side by side. He looked back and forth between them in confusion for a second and then shook himself and announced, “Without further ado, from the great state of Texas, I give you Senator Jack Lacey!”
The senator strolled out onstage in his Bermuda shorts and polo shirt like he owned the place. The crowd applauded and cheered, but a note of confusion was present in the noise. This was a black-tie event, after all.
Jack had no sooner reached the podium than a voice shouted out from near the stage, “Why are you afraid to admit you’re gay, Jack?”
Fuck. The tabloid reporter. Christian started to lurch forward, but Stone put a hand on his arm. “Let hotel security deal with that asshole. You don’t need any more exposure to the media. And I’d lay odds that guy’s got someone filming him in hopes that Jack will cause a scene.”
Christian subsided, but Jack Lacey did not. He came around the side of the podium aggressively to confront the reporter. “Why, you little pissant. You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if her cunt jumped up and down on your dick all by itself.”
“Jesus. I’ve got to stop him—” Christian started.
“Stone! Come on out here. Let’s stop this bullshit once and for all!” Lacey called out loudly.
It was Stone’s turn to lurch. He looked at Christian in alarm. The senator was going to expose their whole scheme. After all they’d done for the bastard, he was going to ruin them all!
“Talk about a security threat and that’s why you did it…,” Christian got out before Stone stepped out into the bright lights.
The crowd gasped.
He moved up beside the senator and took advantage of the ballroom’s excellent acoustics to call out, “There was a security threat to the senator’s life, and he graciously allowed me to impersonate him for several public appearances in the name of protecting his life. I apologize if the ruse has caused any confusion for anyone.”
“Did you catch whoever was threatening him?” someone shouted.
Jack opened his mouth to answer, no doubt to declare that there was no threat. Stone shifted his cowboy-booted foot to step rather heavily on the senator’s flimsily sandaled toes. Lacey sucked in a sharp breath.
Stone called back, “The threat has been neu—”
He never got the word “neutralized” out of his mouth.
He glanced over at Jack, and not one, but three red laser dots lit up on the man’s torso. One came in from above at an angle centered over his heart, and another came in more from the side, also centered roughly on his heart. The third dot was lower. Groin high.
Stone’s reflexes and long years of training took over. He leaped toward Jack, slamming into him and sending the older man flying. As Jack crashed onto his back, Stone realized that now he was standing in the exact spot Jack had been a millisecond before, and all three dots were lighting him up.
He had just long enough to think, Oh, shit, before a large, fast-moving object charged him from stage right.
Christian.
He came tearing out of the wings of the stage and laid a flying tackle on Stone that any NFL player would have been proud of. His arms wrapped round Stone’s chest and slammed him to the stage boards at the exact same moment a gunshot rang out deafeningly loud in the confines of the ballroom.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Stunned, Stone took only an instant to process what the hell had happened. “Where’s Jack?” he demanded tersely.
“Laser dots were on your chest,” Christian bit out.
“Gotta get to the senator!” Stone shouted at Christian over the cacophony. As Christian rolled one way, Stone rolled the other and pulled his pistol all in one move, landing prone on his stomach, weapon propped out in front of him. Those shots had come from different directions. Multiple shooters. Inadequate coverage to surround the principal, let alone properly cover him and move him to safety. Possibly more shots to come.
He spied a movement in the corner where the orchestra gallery met the wall. It was no more than a shadow, really, and a tiny flash of red, but it was enough. He took the shot, sending a double tap of two bullets up at the shooter.
“Get Jack o
ffstage!” he shouted at Christian, who was now lying on top of the senator.
Someone from the balcony grabbed one of the band member’s microphones and yelled, “Shooter down!”
Stone holstered his weapon and ran over to secure the senator. A pool of blood was spreading fast beneath Christian and Jack. Which one was hit?
His entire possible future life with Christian flashed before his eyes as he reached for the man he loved in slow motion. Courting romantically. A small wedding with family and friends. Maybe a couple of kids, someday. A little house on the beach. Lazy days and long nights stretching out in a lifetime of companionship and joy—
Christian rose to his feet, the front of his tuxedo soaked in blood. Stone grabbed him by both shoulders. “Don’t move. I’ll get you to a hospital—”
“I’m not hit. It’s Jack.”
Stone looked down as a doctor emerged from the screaming, fleeing crowd to kneel by the senator. He commenced tending to a wound in Jack’s belly.
“Talk to me,” Stone snapped at the doctor.
“Multiple gunshot wounds. None life-threatening unless there’s internal hemorrhaging, which I can’t tell from a superficial inspection. He needs to get to a hospital immediately.”
“Ambulance is pulling around to the ocean side of the ballroom. It’ll be here in one minute,” somebody shouted.
Jill came rushing onto the stage, and Stone leaped forward to intercept her. He knew better than to let her see Jack like this. Everyone would need her to be strong for a while and make some decisions. And she would likely fall apart if she saw Jack’s blood.
“Let me go,” she ground out.
“Trust me, Mrs. Lacey. Doctors are with Jack. He’s alive but injured. Right now, I need you to go with me to the ambulance. They’re going to need some information from you so they can help Jack.”
Christian closed in on Jill’s other side, and the two of them gently but firmly escorted her off the stage and toward the line of french doors. The ambulance crew was already rushing toward them, pushing a wheeled gurney. More sirens were screaming their imminent arrival.
Stone threw the doors wide open for the medics, who rushed past them when he pointed toward the stage.
He followed as Christian guided Jill to the front seat of the open ambulance and crawled in beside her. That was when she broke down. She sobbed on his shoulder, and Christian held her tightly.
“Get it all out now,” he soothed. “You’ll be busy later.”
She nodded and cried even harder. Stone backed away and ran for the ballroom, this time heading upstairs to the orchestra gallery. Police were already there.
“Stand back,” one ordered him. “This is a crime scene—”
“Sitrep?” he asked tersely. “I’m on Senator Lacey’s security team.”
“We found a pistol on the floor backstage. And someone found a rifle on the beach outside with a laser sight on it.”
“I saw three laser dots. The third weapon?” he demanded. “With the shooter up in the balcony. I’m the security guard who shot that person. I suspect you’re going to need my weapon and to take me in for a statement. But first I’d like to see the shooter if I could.”
He surrendered his weapon to the cops, who bagged it as evidence before escorting him over to where several more policemen were standing. A woman sat on the floor, glaring at everyone while someone tended to a wound not to be too delicate but on her right breast.
“Chesty?” he exclaimed. “Why?”
She looked up at him and scowled. “I’m not saying a word until I speak with my lawyer.”
“Has she been read her rights?” he asked nobody in particular.
A cop spoke up. “Oh, yeah. A couple of times. She lawyered up before we even had a chance to tell her she could have one.”
“Thanks, guys. If someone could take me to the station so I can get going on the paperwork, that would be great. I’d like to get over to the hospital to check on the senator as quickly as possible.”
Which was to say, he wanted to get back to Christian to lend him his support.
The police were pleasant, particularly after they verified his identity and bona fides with Wild Cards, Inc.
The company’s law firm had an associate in Miami who arrived at the police station before Stone had even finished writing out his official statement of what had happened.
He had to agree to stay in Miami until the police cleared him to go, but in under two hours, he walked out of the station a free man. The attorney gave him a ride to the hospital, and the radio on the way reported that Jack Lacey was in surgery and rumored to be in grave condition.
C’mon, you son of a bitch. Don’t die. It was a purely selfish thought based on his fierce desire not to lose a client on his watch. Even if he hadn’t been Lacey’s bodyguard, the guy’s death would still reflect poorly on him.
When he got to the hospital, he was admitted to the family waiting area as soon as he gave his name. Christian had apparently told the police to let him through the phalanx of reporters and the hospital security providing privacy.
Christian was staring out a window in the waiting room. There was no sign of Mrs. Lacey. Stone walked up behind him, and Christian must have seen his reflection in the glass, for he turned silently and stepped into Stone’s arms. They embraced, hugging hard for a long time.
“How’s Jack?” he asked.
“In surgery.”
“How are you holding up?” Stone asked. “You’re sure you weren’t wounded? Shock can make people not notice even serious injuries.”
“I’m fine. I promise. What about you?”
“I have on a bulletproof vest. And besides, I’m Superman. Bullets bounce right off me.”
“That’s not funny,” Christian ground out. “When I saw those red dots pointed at you, and you were out there trying to protect that bastard alone….” A long pause, and then he whispered, “I died.”
“But I didn’t get hit. I’m fine.”
Another long, hard hug.
“The dots weren’t for me. They pointed at Jack. When I pushed him out of the line of fire, I momentarily took his place in front of the dots. Before the shooters fired, they changed targets and hit the senator.”
“Ahh. That explains the delay from when I saw the dots until I heard the shots,” Christian said hollowly. It sounded like he was in mild shock.
Fair. Civilians didn’t often have to witness an actual shooting. Unlike him. He’d seen plenty of gunshot wounds, blood, and death in his day. Too much, maybe, if he’d gotten this immune to its horror.
“How’s Jill?” Stone asked eventually.
“Pissed as hell.”
“Really?” he blurted. “I’d have thought she’d be frantic.”
Christian lowered his voice so only Stone could hear him. “She actually seems torqued off that he survived.”
Stone whistled low. “Dang. She really was ready to kill him, wasn’t she?” A horrible thought struck him. “Is it possible she was one of the shooters? The police did find one of the weapons backstage, and that was where she came from after Jack was shot.”
“Surely not,” Christian answered.
But Stone wondered, nonetheless.
Christian said grimly, “If he doesn’t make it, this will be a fitting end for him. Did they tell you where he’s hit?”
“It looked like his gut from when I saw him.”
“That was the exit wound. Bullet went in just at the base of his penis. Hit the pubic bone and ricocheted out of his belly without hitting any vital organs.”
“Ouch,” Stone half laughed. “Talk about karma. What a bitch!”
“Please, God, don’t ever say that in public—”
“Never fear, Christian. I understand what a nightmare a comment like that would be for you to handle. A guy on the radio reported that Jack was still in surgery and in grave condition. Any update?”
Christian’s lips twitched with humor. “I might have taken a little libe
rty with the truth with the press. His life isn’t in danger at all. But his penis is likely destroyed. It amused me to tell the press that grave condition line.”
Stone grinned furtively, making sure no one else had come into the waiting room who might overhear. “That’s cold, man.”
Christian shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”
“Does Jill know?”
Christian nodded. “She went to the chapel to have a few minutes alone. She’s probably in there thanking the good Lord for making a eunuch out of her cheating husband. I’m supposed to fetch her if there’s news.”
“She’s lucky to have you,” Stone said sincerely.
“Things could get pretty crazy for a while. I don’t know how much time I’ll have….”
Stone got the message. He was being dismissed. Real life had overtaken their silly little fantasy of a future in which they could be together and happy. He needed to go back to being an invisible bodyguard, and Christian needed to give his full attention to the business of helping Senator Lacey’s wife through this crisis.
A hot sword of agony slashed across his body, eviscerating him. His emotional guts spilled out onto the floor at his feet as he watched Christian grimly straighten his shoulders and put on his publicity face.
That was it. He was shut out. Whether or not he wanted to be done with Christian, Christian was done with him.
He witnessed death, lost friends, hell, brothers. But no loss he’d ever suffered compared to the pain of this one.
How was he supposed to go on? To lie down tonight, knowing he would always be alone, to get up in the morning knowing he would never find another man like Christian? How was he supposed to take his next breath?
His lungs burned as if he’d inhaled pure fire. His eyes burned; the back of his throat burned.
“No problem,” he croaked. “I understand. You do what you have to do.”
He turned around and walked out of the waiting room. And damned if he didn’t feel something hot and wet on his face as he stepped out into the night.
