Date: Tue, 11 Aug 2009 20:30:39 -0400
From: mark corlis <mcnc1966@gmail.com>
Subject: Taking Stock Chapter 10

Taking Stock

Chapter 10

By Mark Corlis

Copyright 2009

All Rights Reserved



 Reminder: This is a copyrighted worked owned in full by the author. No
reproductions (other than those by the Nifty Archive) are permitted without
my express written authorization.

 If you're under 18 or this story is illegal where you reside, please leave
now. You've been warned.

 AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Hello again dear readers!

 Here's chapter 10 for your enjoyment. As I told you previously, this
section was part of chapter 9, but at the suggestion of my amazing editing
team, I agreed to split this part off and make it a stand alone chapter.

 Thanks Wayne, Mark and Gabriella for your insightful ideas and helping to
make me sound literate! I look forward to working with all of you as we near
the end of this journey.

 Your comments have been wonderful and I implore you to keep them coming.
Tentatively, I plan to end this saga in chapter 12. Any suggestions you
might have will definitely be considered.

 Thanks again for your continued support and I look forward to your opinions
of the latest installment!

 Mark

mcnc1966@gmail.com



 Chapter 10



            Jordan stood before the mirror fumbling with his tie. The shop
had done an excellent job matching his accessories to Lila's dress, ensuring
that they'd be a smashing pair at tonight's party. Frustrated beyond words,
he undid the restrictive wrap and began again. Taylor watched him with
worry, noticing his hands trembling uncontrollably. Stepping behind Jordan,
he took the fabric in his hand and began to tie it as prescribed.

          "Nervous, baby?" Taylor asked as he finished the bow.

          "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," Jordan admitted. "I feel like
my stomach's gonna come out of my throat at any minute."

          Taylor wrapped him up and nuzzled the back of his neck. "Not too
late to call this off."

          Jordan sighed. "I'm so jittery that I've thought about it, but I
have to do this. I can't hide like a coward from these people. They'll see
me in my glory tonight, proud and no longer intimidated."

          "But still scared," Taylor said.

          "Very scared," Jordan agreed.

          Micah came in and walked around Jordan. "Pretty snazzy, bud! You
look like a million bucks." Jordan blushed at his compliments.

          "Unbutton your shirt and let's get this worked around your neck,"
he said. In his hand was a medium sized St. Christopher medal on a silver
chain. The microphone and homing device were contained within, invisible to
the naked eye. Jordan actually found the pendant stylish, and helped get it
placed. After a quick test showed it to be functioning properly, he redid
his shirt and stepped to the mirror for a final inspection. In his black tux
with royal blue vest and bow tie, he was a vision of prestige. It was a
mask, however, evidenced by the butterflies flitting within him.

          "Guess it's now or never!" he told the others. They followed him
to the living room where Lila waited. She was the picture of old world
charm, wearing a long royal blue chiffon gown with coordinating elbow length
gloves. The plunging neckline was enhanced with a stunning necklace of
diamonds and sapphires. She wore a bracelet and tiara holding the same
jewels, bringing her classy look together. Standing next to each other, the
two were a sight to behold.

          Trying to take some the edge off the seriousness of the situation,
Vin stood by with his camera. He snapped pictures of Jordan alone, then some
with Lila, and more with her by herself. Secretly, he wanted the night
preserved in case one or both of them didn't return, which was a worry that
hung in the air like a fog. Everyone tried to be jovial and carefree, but
the attempt was strained. Taylor, in particular, couldn't hide his worry
that this would be the final time he'd see Jordan alive. When it came time
for them to depart, he pulled Jordan into his arms, embracing him fiercely.
Tears streamed down his face as he held his man.

          "You come back to me in one piece, Jordan Maxwell. Promise me
you'll come back!" he pleaded.

          Jordan teared up himself as the fear in his heart took root. He
melted into Taylor as the two connected on a host of different levels.

          "I promise. I'll be back with you no matter what!" The tone in his
voice betrayed the doubt he was feeling.

          "I love you, baby," Taylor said before joining them in a
passionate lip lock. The intense feeling made Jordan's tears fall faster.

          "I love you too, Taylor. Now and forever," he replied. Breaking
their hold, he took Lila's arm and escorted her out the door. Taylor watched
sadly as the elevator doors closed, carrying Jordan into the realm of the
unknown. Micah stepped beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

          "They're going to be fine," he promised. "Nobody will get within
ten feet of them!"

          Taylor nodded halfheartedly, and followed him into the kitchen
where Thad was reading over the transcripts of the recorded conversations.
Micah introduced Ronnie, who'd been brought along in case anything required
further explanation. He and Taylor sat with the others, listening to Thad
remark about the evidence as he got further into it.

          "This is unreal!" he said. "These guys are more organized than we
suspected, and up to a lot more than we ever considered."

          "If I've figured correctly, there's three hundred mil plus on the
line when this bank goes down. Rollins has structured the investment
vehicles so he gets a bit more than half of the proceeds personally. It's
not surprising that he's going to such lengths to protect his interests,"
Ronnie told the group.

          A morbid thought came to Taylor. "He'd have more than enough to
buy out my mother's shares if she was to pass." The final part of the
sentence caught in his throat as visions of ugliness ran through his mind.

          "I don't quite see where this crazy religious guy fits in," Thad
commented.

          "It's somewhat murky," Micah agreed. "Ronnie and I figure that
he's probably set to take the fall for a good portion of their misdeeds.
He's being well paid for his efforts. We've uncovered cash disbursements to
him in excess of five million dollars from these dummy companies. Also looks
like a nice chunk of Lithia stock was bestowed upon him."

          "Serving God has been profitable for him," Ronnie said
sarcastically.

          "We see him as the weakest link now that we have Gardener. My guys
are setting up a little surprise for the right reverend, and, hopefully,
he'll sing like a nightingale before it's over."

          Taylor noticed the silence in the air when no one was speaking.
"Didn't you say that we'd be able to hear what was going on around Jordan
and my mother, Micah?"

          The security guard gave him a look of embarrassment. "My laptop is
set up in the other room with one of my men listening to it. If you prefer,
we can bring it in here."

 Taylor nodded.

 Micah dutifully rose and retrieved the computer from the living room.
Setting it on the table before them, he adjusted the volume so everyone
would be able to hear what went on. He completed the task just as Greg was
going over the evening's instructions.

          "OK, folks, here's how it's gonna go. We've got agents that'll be
stationed at various strategic points around the ballroom, mostly observing
from above. One agent and I have received permission from the event's
organizers to remain in the room. Should there be any issues, simply nod to
one of us and we'll approach you. Since you opted not to wear a wire,
Jordan, we'll be looking at the two of you constantly for any signs of
distress."

          Taylor gave Micah a look of surprise. "He is wired. How come they
don't know that?"

          "After the debacle at the house, I felt it was need to know
information, and they didn't need to know. It's an added level of security
for Jordan that only we're aware of," Micah responded.

          Taylor shook his head, impressed with Micah's tactics. They
listened as Greg went on.

          "If I see there's any possibility of trouble, we're out of there.
No arguing or procrastinating allowed. We understand each other?" Greg
asked.

          Both Lila and Jordan nodded. The rest of the ride was quiet as
Jordan looked at the sights whizzing by. His nerves were frazzled, and he
wondered what he'd been thinking when he'd volunteered for this. When it was
over, though, he hoped that the bastards who attacked them would see his
refusal of their intimidation. Taylor was on his mind a lot. The puppy dog
look on his face was something Jordan would remember forever. It tugged at
his heartstrings while making him feel ultimately loved. Things had to be
okay so he could spend the rest of his life with this incredible man.

          "They're awfully quiet," Vin commented, leaning close to the
speakers to see if he could glean any sounds.

          "Wouldn't you be?" Taylor asked him. "Jordan might as well have
painted a bullseye on his back. There's no question in my mind that if any
moves are made, it'll be against him, not my mother."

          "Why do you say that?" Ronnie asked.

          "He's the easier target. If the public finds out he's gay, they'll
zone in on that fact and suddenly his death won't be so outrageous anymore.
With my mother, however, this is a woman who's spent her life caring for
others. Numerous awards and thank you plaques dot the walls of her home.
Presidents invite her to State dinners. People would demand justice for her
senseless killing. Taking Jordan out will be forgotten quickly and chalked
up to another 'faggot' shooting. It's sad, but it's true and the killers
know this," Taylor explained.

          The harsh words created a morose air in the room. Nobody said it
aloud, but they agreed with his assessment. A sound came over the computer's
speakers as the car arrived at its final destination.

          "Here we go," Greg said. "Try not to spend too much time outside.
Get into our net as soon as possible."

          "We'll be fine," Jordan said warily. He opened the door and
stepped out, then turned to help Lila into the open. Cameras flashed and
guests clapped at their entrance. A line of well wishers formed down the
entryway as they began the trek to safety. Lila was radiant, wallowing in
the attention they were receiving. Jordan felt exposed and unprotected.
Every person that came up to shake her hand was a possible assassin in his
mind. Perspiration built on his forehead as they inched on, so he focused on
the main entrance and the haven beyond the large doors.

          'One step closer,' he thought to himself as they paused to greet
someone new. Jordan smiled politely and offered a firm handshake, but he
died a little more with each delay. He wanted to throw Lila over his
shoulder and haul ass inside. Instead, he followed her lead and fulfilled
his gracious escort role to perfection. While he waited on her to make small
talk with some friends, he remembered that the men were listening to them
from the penthouse.

          "I love you, Taylor and yes, Vin, I do look HOT!" he said aloud.

          The men looked at each other and burst out laughing. Jordan
imagined the scene and wished he was there to be a part of it. He pictured
Taylor's face as he heard the message, and saw Vin smiling at the joke he'd
made. The thoughts comforted him and took his mind off the snail's pace they
moved at. Before he knew it, the doors were in reach. He stepped forward and
held one open, letting Lila in first. Following closely behind, he stepped
in and was thrown by the sight he beheld.

          The hallway was filled with people in formal attire who accepted
flutes of fine champagne from white gloved waiters. The floors were a shiny
teak, covered in rare tapestries at orchestrated intervals. Huge, ornate
chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sparkles of light twinkling from their
crystal beads. Paintings of important people hung from the walls, including
one of Lila herself. A violin quartet played joyful sonatas as the crowd
honed their socializing skills. The scene made Jordan feel small and
unworthy.

          "Thank God we're in," Jordan said quietly. "So far, so good,
guys."

          Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said looking
toward the heavens.

          Micah sensed his disquiet and grabbed his radio. "Sit rep," he
barked into it.

          "Gilligan and Ginger are in the house," a voice responded,
eliciting grins from the men at the humorous code names. "Boats have docked
and are ready to sail at any time."

          Micah received a series of confused glances. "That means my men
are in place," he explained as understanding came over their faces. "Very
well," he told the agent. "Papa Bear to Mama Bear, respond."

          "This is Mama Bear," Greg answered.

          "At the first sign of Goldilocks, grab GG and the boats, and then
set sail for the island. Is that clear?" Micah said.

          "Perfectly, Mama Bear out," Greg replied.

          The men marveled at how this talk was so natural for them, like
they'd been speaking this language since birth. Micah knew the names were a
bit ludicrous, but he felt it was necessary in case their communications
were being monitored. No detail was untouched, and no expense was spared to
ensure the well being of these two people. Setting his radio on the table,
he steered them back to going over what they'd been given.

          "So, best we can tell, Rollins is the boss in all this and the
rest are pawns in his dangerous game. The agent we captured tells us that
he's got access to a war chest of money, making him even more dangerous. He
refused to confirm whether Lila was their main target, saying the moral
issues here didn't bother him. He and the other one went into this for the
money and nothing else. If there's a move to be made against anyone, then
it'll have to be done with new and untested people. That could play to our
advantage," he said.

          "Where is all this money coming from?" Thad asked. "We need to
establish a pattern of deposits and withdrawals if we're going to get the
Feds interested."

          "The Bank of Panama," Ronnie said. "All the payments to the
reverend came from a numbered account there. I also found transfers to two
accounts in Switzerland. I presume that was payment for O'Malley and
Kowalski's services, even though I can't prove it yet. Give me time, though.
I haven't found a corporate computer network that can keep me out!"

          Thad and Taylor got worried about the legality of his tactics.
But, since they had no direct knowledge of events, both felt relatively
insulated against any adverse charges. The friendly banter they heard from
Jordan and Lila played in the background as they went through the rest of
the details.

          "You know, I'd breath a lot easier if we turned all this over to
law enforcement," Taylor said when they'd finished their presentation.

          "We can't turn it over," Thad cautioned. "Most of this was
obtained illegally so they wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole."

          "They will if we have a corroborating witness," Micah said with a
sly smile.

          "Say no more!" Thad ordered. "We don't need to know the details.
Just get the witness. I need him if I'm going to make anything stick to
these guys and the Feds will require it."

          A booming voice over the speakers grabbed their attention.

          "Lila!" Denton Tolliver said as he moved toward the elegant pair.

          "Good evening, Denton," she said back, accepting the kiss he
offered. "You look very handsome tonight, if I may say so."

          "Little lady, I look like a street bum standing next to the
personification of beauty," he said as he took her hand and kissed it.
Jordan saw something he couldn't fathom....Lila Bryant was blushing!

          "You flatter me, as always," she said, batting her eyelashes at
him. Her crimson skin stood out against the bright blue fabric of her dress
as she silently cursed herself for wearing it. Shifting into a different
gear, she took Jordan's arm and brought him before the tall, slim man.

          "Denton, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Jordan
Maxwell, my surrogate son," she said.

          The men joined hands firmly. "A pleasure, sir," he said nodding
his head. "You must be Taylor's partner. I've heard a lot of good things
about you."

          Jordan became uneasy as his sexuality lay splayed out in front of
them. Tolliver noticed the change in his demeanor.

          "Relax, son," he said into his ear. "My son Sam has a male partner
too, and I have no issues with it. They've been together over ten years and
Jess is a part of our family. Nobody should experience things like they have
simply because they love each other. Don't let people get to you. Be proud
of your love and nurture it!"

          "I won't, Mr. Tolliver, and thanks. You've made me feel much
better about being here tonight," Jordan said.

          "It was nothing, son," Denton advised. "I watched that kid go
through hell trying to be accepted for who he was. It pained me that I
couldn't help him, but I was damn proud of the way he stood up to his foes.
Today, he and Jess own a gallery in San Francisco for budding gay artists
that's on the must visit list for the society set. They've built a great
life together, and grown closer as the years passed. I feel honored to be in
the presence of two people so dedicated to each other, and it's my hope that
others have the opportunity to feel the passion they have. The charity work
we do together has touched many lives and I hope that their example will
affect many more."

          Jordan sighed, thinking of Taylor. "Sounds like paradise, and it
sounds like they're two great individuals. I'd love to meet them someday."

          "Oh, you will," Denton said cryptically. "I promise you that."

          Taylor smiled as he listened to Tolliver. There were many
parallels between his son's relationship to his partner and the one growing
between him and Jordan. Although he was still nervous, the extreme feelings
inside him helped mitigate it. He was more in love with Jordan every minute,
and it filled him with happiness.

          The lights flashed on and off, a nonverbal signal to the guests
that the party was now moving into the main ballroom. Couples paired off and
began passing through a majestic marble archway en route to the night's main
event. Jordan extended his arm to the ravishing woman in blue as they moved
slowly ahead toward the main room. Its grandeur was nothing short of
spectacular.

           A stairway made of marble that matched the arch spilled downward
to a floor of deep, luxurious carpeting. An elevated dais with a podium at
its center stood ready to seat twenty of the night's most honored guests.
Lila and Jordan were slated to be among them. Tables for ten were spread out
around a spacious wood dance floor, and a live band occupied a space to the
right. The most touching feature was a huge screen behind the dais,
currently displaying the photograph of a child who was bald from
chemotherapy. It punched Jordan in the stomach, increasing his desire to be
a catalyst for change in a young person's world.

          People got their seating assignments and made their way toward
them. Jordan and Lila could be found three seats to the right of the podium
with Denton Tolliver, emcee of the event, on her right. The three made
casual small talk as the crowd settled in, and then the band began to play a
soft melody. While the music grew more dramatic, a slide show of the
children the hospital treated began. Each picture was more poignant than the
first, and Jordan felt more empathy than he had a in a long time. When the
show finished, pictures of children with hair and fantastic smiles began
rolling. The film was showing those same sick kids, who'd been successfully
cured, a tribute to the hospital's tireless staff. Jordan smiled widely as
the picturesof triumphant survivors rolled on. Denton took center stage as
the show concluded.

          "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Eleventh
Annual Dinner of Hope, an event designed to benefit St. Jude's Children's
Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee." The guests applauded as he waited
patiently.

          "The children you saw here tonight were considered untreatable as
little as two years ago. Available treatments lengthened their lives by an
average of ninety days, many considerably less. Hard working families lost
the apples of their eyes one after another as this silent killer rampaged
on. Today, however, I'm happy to report that, through ongoing research,
doctors now have new tools available to defeat rare forms of childhood
cancer. Tonight's examples are of patients who beat the odds due to the
efforts of a second to none hospital staff. Every one of them is alive and
well today; alive to experience a childhood filled with joy and free from
pain."

          The crowd gave a standing ovation, bursting into thunderous
applause. Tolliver looked out at them proudly, knowing that each person in
the room had somehow contributed to this vast success. The noise went on for
some time, and then died down as people retook their seats.

          "The research that enabled the new drugs and therapies that saved
these kids is an ongoing and necessary process. Scores of scientists,
doctors and nurses work around the clock to defeat this atrocious disease.
The work is tiring, yet rewarding when a child lives to play another day.
Without a combined effort, these dedicated professionals would not be making
the headway they are. The reality is, though, that the work is expensive and
not always successful. For every one triumph, there are scores of failures,
and each one brings a new financial burden to this fine institution. Without
the support from generous donors like you, the battle to rid the world of
this crushing disease will be lost. I ask each and every one of you to look
deep within your souls for the guidance necessary to help these poor
children. Donate to this worthy cause with me, and let's give hope the boost
it needs. Thank you for the honor of being your host this evening. It's my
pleasure to be with such a fine group of caring adults. Enjoy your evening
and give generously!"

          The crowd stood once again as he left the podium, the applause
lasting longer this time around. As things calmed down, the band started up
and people began moving to the dance floor. Jordan stood and offered Lila
his hand. "May I have this dance, Madame?"

          Lila eagerly accepted. "You may, kind sir." A short time later,
they took a standard waltz stance and began swaying to the band's version of
Glen Miller's "Moonlight Serenade." The couple smiled at each other as they
floated across the floor, and Jordan began to enjoy being with her. Whether
it was the music, the ambiance or the company, his fear had vanished and he
got into the magic surrounding him.



          In another section of town, cars brought in vagrants and drug
addicts to the Temple of the Righteous, official home to the Army of God.
Loyal followers brought scores of destitute and hopeless souls to hear the
Reverend Gibson sermonize them with monologues about a life dedicated to the
Almighty. His messages twisted the scriptures to fit whatever subject he saw
fit to talk about. Most were speeches about his congregation and their
struggle against individuals that led an immoral life, specifically
homosexuals. In general, not many of the dregs brought in stayed beyond that
night, but a few misguided hearts usually ended up buying into his rhetoric
and becoming devotees.

          A wide range of street citizens sat in folding chairs listening
when two men clad in black suits, white shirts and black ties entered. The
reverend was proselytizing about his Army's continuing efforts to make the
public understand that gay people were a scourge, one that must be
eradicated so that mankind would become acceptable in the eyes of God. The
men watched his dramatic theatrics with amazement. They couldn't believe
that an ignorant relic like this still existed. His attitude would only make
the job they'd been sent to do that much more fun.

          When he finished speaking, the man of God descended from the stage
to be among his followers, eating up the congratulations they bestowed upon
him. The two men moved quickly and flanked him, cutting off all escape
routes. One of them took his arms and moved them behind his back, placing
handcuffs tightly on his wrists. The other produced a document and held it
out before him.

          "Hiram Gibson, I'm Agent Smith and this is Agent Brown. We're
placing you under arrest for felony tax evasion."

          Gibson paled as he was read his Miranda rights. When he didn't
respond to the questions within them, the men moved him quickly into their
car and off into the night. As they drove in silence, the reverend became
severely nervous and sweat poured down his face. There was no doubt in his
mind that this charge would be near impossible to fight, as he hadn't been
prudent about paying the government for a long time. Visions of being raped
in jail filled his thoughts as the car turned into a large warehouse where
the door was sealed behind them. Two more men appeared and drew Gibson out
roughly, allowing him to fall to the ground on purpose. They dragged him
into a brightly lit room that had a small table with three chairs around it.
Other than these sparse furnishings, the room was empty. The agents forced
him into a chair, resetting his cuffs so he was bound to it. They used zip
ties to bind his legs to the seat as well. Now completely immobilized, the
reverend was left alone to stew about his fate. The men slammed the door
shut and locked it, driving home the point that he was now totally alone.

          From another room, the four men watched him thanks to the
placement of a hidden camera. His breathing was labored and his face filled
with distress. The agents joked about his condition, taking bets on how long
it would take to break him. The consensus was that he'd be babbling away in
under one hour. One of the agents, a hulking man named Wilson, spoke into
his radio as he watched the reverend near a panic state.

          "Baby Bear to Papa Bear," he said into the microphone.

          "This is Papa Bear, go ahead," Micah responded.

          "We have the porridge you requested, but it's too cold now. Might
have to heat it up before it's edible. If we get it too hot, we'll have to
let it sit and become just right before we eat it," Wilson said.

          "Copy that, Baby Bear. Let me know when the porridge is ready and
we'll join you for dinner," Micah told him.

          "Affirmative, Baby Bear out," were the last words before the line
went dead. More confused looks came Micah's way.

          "We have what we wanted, but he isn't hopped up enough yet. My men
will rile him a bit until he's in total disarray. Then they'll leave him to
calm down a bit before moving in to devour his ass," Micah explained.

          "Too bad we can't hear what's going on in there," Vin remarked.

          "Well......." Micah began.

          "Don't even suggest it," Thad interrupted. "We don't want to
know." He glared at Vin for making the stupid remark. Bored with their
group, he stood up and went off to watch TV for a while. Thad shook his head
and followed, ready to apologize for his abruptness. Taylor returned to
listening to what was happening with his lover. Dinner was now over and
Denton Tolliver had returned to the microphone.

          "I introduce our next guest with tremendous respect and awe for
her efforts. For years, she has fought injustice and formed grass roots
movements that support causes from gay rights to homelessness. In some
cases, she has singlehandedly changed the fate of individuals and families
across this great country. The awards have been many, including a
commendation from the President of the United States for outstanding service
to the citizens of the republic. Without further adieu, I present the
national chairperson of fundraising for St. Jude's, Lila Bryant."

          The crowd came to its feet once more as Lila moved forward to
speak. She stood watching the outpouring of gratitude being given her with
pride, smiling in deep appreciation. This was her night to shine, and Jordan
watched her proudly. She waved her hands, urging the guests to calm down and
be seated. Ever so slowly, they did and she took control of the floor.

          "Thank you so much for that rousing ovation," she began. "I'm not
the one who deserves it, however. I've been fortunate to lead a charmed and
healthy life, one full of more tender moments than most humans experience in
a complete lifetime. To give thanks for my good fortune, I have dedicated
myself to making a positive impact, no matter how small, in the lives of
those in need. It is these people, the ones who live in adversity and rail
against it everyday, that deserve your respect. It is children like those
who beat disease at St. Jude's that are the admirable ones. Even though the
odds are stacked against them, they embrace life with a passion that few
have. It is their kindness of spirit and dedication to triumph that made me
a believer in this organization. I've met some wonderful folks in my
travels. Some still speak to me even though I coaxed large donations from
them. My own family wasn't immune from my zeal, as my son would happily
confirm. It was a labor of love and I'm pleased to be here tonight so I can
share the fruits of our labor with those that toil most closely with these
heartbreaking cases. It is my pleasure to present a check in the amount of
20.5 million dollars to St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital."

          The crowd went wild as an overblown facsimile of the check was
unveiled. Members of the hospital's executive board gathered around it,
their eyes wet with thanks. The money would go a long way toward providing
continuing care for patients and their families. Jordan clapped loudly as
Lila was hugged and kissed by various emotional staff members. Being the
lady she was, her generosity was downplayed as she repeatedly thrust the
spotlight back on the donors. He'd never had a prouder moment as he watched
her glow with satisfaction.

          His rapture was broken when his coffee cup exploded and threw hot
liquid over everyone in its vicinity. Jordan froze as another shot rang out
and hit the stage at his feet. Pandemonium erupted as everyone ran for
cover.

          "NOOOOOOOO," Jordan screamed as bullets flew around him. He
dropped to the ground, taking cover beneath the table. It didn't help much
as the bullets changed trajectory and moved closer to him. In a panic, he
came out and began to run toward the side of the room. A high powered rifle
kept firing, and their rounds kept missing. The gunman wasn't attempting to
kill him; he was trying to drive him toward a specific place. He kept firing
and Jordan kept running, fleeing his attacker in great fear.

          "Taylor! HELP!" he screamed as he pushed through the throng and
into a hallway. "HELP ME, PLEASE!" he pleaded, spinning around and trying to
decide which way to go. Seeing a doorway to his right, he ran toward it,
hoping it held the refuge he sought.

          Taylor heard his plea. He jumped up and screamed "JORDAN" at the
top of his lungs. He felt helpless as they heard shot after shot sail by and
Jordan's ragged breath as he ran away. Micah sprung into action, grabbing
his radio and speaking frantically into it.

          "Papa Bear to Mama Bear, do you copy?" he yelled. There was no
response. "Papa Bear to Mama Bear, please respond!" Only silence.

          Switching channels, he began again. "Agent one, do you copy?" More
silence. "Any agents please respond!" The lack of response was bone chilling
to Taylor.

          "Oh my God! He's alone! Do something, Micah!" he said in
desperation. Thad and Vin came back in to see what the hubbub was all about.
One look at Taylor told them that tragedy was unfolding. They froze in their
tracks, fearing the worst possible outcome was now a reality.

          Micah dialed a number in his phone and waited impatiently for an
answer. "This is Agent Barnes with Team Bryant. I need two full complements
of men scrambled immediately for dispatch to the Excelsior Club right away.
Possible operatives down. I repeat operatives may be down. I will meet them
on scene shortly."

          He hung up the phone and looked at the stunned men. "Let's go" he
ordered, grabbing his coat and rushing out the door. The others followed
closely. When they jumped in the car, Micah activated a scanner type device
and entered a specific frequency. Soon the sound of Jordan's heavy breathing
came through the stereo's speakers.

          "Punch it!" Taylor yelled as the rear tires spun and left a cloud
of smoke. The group sped off toward the chaotic scene.

          Jordan hid behind a credenza that had a bulky flower arrangement
atop it. Peering around it, he saw people streaming out of the ballroom in
panic. He watched carefully for any signs of an armed man emerging from the
area. When a few seconds passed without incident, he looked back at the
door, trying to surmise if he could make it safely inside. Summoning his
courage, he stood up and moved closer to it. He could see the sign marked
"Men" clearly.

          "There's a bathroom to the side of the main ballroom. I'll be
hiding in there. Hurry! Please!" he said aloud before running to the door.
Upon reaching it, he thrashed it open and threw all his might against it
once on the other side. When the holding mechanism clicked, he locked the
door, resting his head against it. In a flash, a man ambushed him from
behind, covering his mouth with a wet handkerchief. Jordan struggled but
became weak quickly, his world going dark. His body collapsed and his
attacker followed it to the ground. He was out cold and totally defenseless
now.

          Taylor caught the announcement of his location, urging Micah to
speed up. They heard the ensuing struggle as Jordan gagged and went silent.
Taylor sobbed as all sounds he recognized as Jordan's ceased, replaced by
the footsteps of an unknown assailant. The car reached the scene in record
time as it attempted to negotiate through the fleeing bodies. Sirens could
be heard in the distance as local law enforcement mounted a major response
to this debacle. Micah honked furiously, urging everyone to get out of his
way. It had no effect. In sheer frustration, Taylor threw his door open and
exited, running full speed into the crowd.

          He bobbed and weaved around the harried people, bursting through
the door and stopping to get his bearings. Remembering Jordan's words, he
ran to the side and down a long hallway. Spotting the bathroom door, his
adrenaline surged and he ran to it, only to find it locked. Throwing caution
to the wind, he kicked repeatedly until the device securing it gave way and
the door flew open. Taylor rushed in and looked around hurriedly. The room
appeared to be empty, and he felt a breeze blow across his arms. There were
two stall doors to his left, and he moved to them quickly. Kicking the first
door open, he found nothing. Doing the same to the second, he fell to the
ground and screamed in torment at what he found. Jordan's coat, vest and bow
tie lay on the seat. Pinned to the jacket was a note that read "We'll be in
touch soon." Taylor grabbed the coat and held it to him, inhaling Jordan's
scent as he sobbed woefully.

          Micah finally caught up to him. He found Taylor collapsed and
crying. "They've got him!" he cried, revealing the note to Micah. The man
hung his head in shame, leaving Taylor alone to grieve and set out in search
of his team. Thad and Vin came into the room and found the same thing Micah
had. They knelt down with their friend and joined him in sorrow. The three
hugged tightly as Taylor gripped them for support.

          The security leader located most of his men, unconscious but not
dead. The exception was his cohort and friend Greg, whose body was
discovered in a closet. A single gunshot wound to the chest took his life,
and Micah fought the sadness trying to escape. He'd let it turn to a thirst
for vengeance, knowing it might be handy in the coming hours. As the men
came out of their stupor, they all told the same story. A uniformed waiter
pushing a wheeled cart brought coffee around, claiming it was compliments of
Lila Bryant. They knew they shouldn't accept it, but the boredom they were
going through clouded their judgment and they were desperate to remain
alert. The drink had been laced with a powerful sedative, and it soon put
everyone down for the count. Greg didn't drink coffee, so he declined the
offer. Micah figured he'd stumbled upon the kidnappers and been shot, dying
before he hit the ground. He was taken aback by the stupidity of his men.
How a group of die hard pros could fall for such a simple ploy was beyond
him.

          Thad and Vin brought a weakened Taylor into the hallway. They had
their arms around him, struggling to keep him upright. Step by step, the
three of them walked toward the exit, bypassing Micah without a peep. The
cool night air rushed in around them when Thad pushed the glass door open.
Vin shivered but Taylor had no reaction, his face carrying the expression of
an emotionally bankrupt man. They found a bench outside and set him down,
taking up positions on either side of their friend. They huddled together as
they waited for word, any word, concerning Jordan's whereabouts.

          Lila saw them through the crowd, and rushed to their side. Vin and
Thad hugged her excitedly, thankful she was alive and unharmed. Taylor,
however, didn't move and didn't react. He just stared at his shoes,
convinced that the life he loved was over and had no hope of coming back.
Lila knelt down, cupping his face in her hands.

          "Hi, son," she said softly. "I know he's gone right now, but don't
give up on him. Jordan's strong and has a voracious will to live. He'd be
disappointed if he knew you were willing to write him off so quickly."

          "She's right, Taylor!" Vin agreed. "That man went all the way to
the Cayman Islands to get you back. We owe him for being the glue that holds
us together."

          "They have nothing to gain by killing him. Hopefully, we can find
him before anything gets out of hand. Let Micah do his thing, no matter what
it is. He'll get Jordan back to you," Thad added.

          Guilt weighed heavily on Taylor. "Thanks guys," he said sadly.
"But this is all my fault. I never should have agreed to let him go. If I'd
been more assertive, then he'd be here in my arms, not God knows where!"

          Micah joined them as Taylor began his outburst. Getting Jordan
back and avenging Greg's death had become his obsession. "Nobody else is
going to die on my watch!" he averred. "We'll get him back. Remember, we
have something they don't know about."

          Taylor's eyes widened. "The necklace! Is it still transmitting?"

          Micah nodded. "We wait until it stops moving and then investigate.
Maybe, just maybe, we'll get lucky and this will be over before it begins."

          "Do you think the reverend might have anything that will help us?"
Thad asked Micah.

          "I just spoke to my guys there and let them know what happened.
They're going to put the screws to him and see what we get," he said.





          Agents Smith and Brown straightened their ties and gathered the
accumulated documents Ronnie had provided. They looked at the video monitor
one last time to see how their guest was doing. His night had been rough so
far, but nowhere near as rough as it would be. The men had steadily been
increasing the temperature in the room over the last few hours. Once the man
was soaked with sweat, they decreased it dramatically. Hiram Gibson sat
bound to a chair shivering with mucus dripping from his nose. He screamed
out for someone to release him right away constantly, getting no response.
His heart rate was still high as his predicament worsened, and he was
startled when the two agents entered carrying reams of paperwork with them.

          Smith and Brown (code names, of course) took the chairs that
flanked Gibson. For a time, they said nothing, shuffling their papers and
looking at him coldly. The reverend's nervousness increased as the silence
grew longer. His visions of wearing prison stripes returned, accompanied by
all the horrible things he'd been told that went on behind bars. That was
his greatest fear, being forced to become the homosexual lover of a man
twice his size. He'd be turned into the type of person that he'd spent his
life condemning, and the agents were well aware of this fact. Feeling they'd
toyed with him enough, they set the papers down and looked him directly in
the eyes.

          "You've been a bad boy, Hiram," Brown said. "I'm going to let you
know right now that we've got enough here to send you away for a very long
time, and not to any of the cupcake jails our government is so fond of. No,
you're maximum security material, that's for sure."

          Gibson shuddered at the revelation.

          "Reverend, we're not animals, so I'm going to make you an offer,"
Smith said. "You come clean, answer everything we ask honestly, and then we
might be able to help you. Fuck with us, and I'll make sure that you get a
roommate who'll school you in the intricacies of male on male loving."

          Gibson trembled again, feeling scared and nauseous at the thought.


          "Now, let's begin with these offshore accounts, Hiram," Brown
suggested. "You've got a large amount of cash and securities held in them.
Tell me where the money came from and how a humble servant of God came
across a windfall like that."

          He sat silently, considering his next move. Smith kept up the
pressure.

          "Mr. Brown, it seems our guest has nothing to say. Make the call
and see that the reverend gets a comfortable cell while he awaits
arraignment. If I recall, there's an empty bed below that guy that got
arrested for raping random men last month. I think he and Mr. Gibson will
get along splendidly."

          Brown nodded and the two of them got up to leave Gibson to suffer
a fate worse than death. Before they got two feet away, the preacher had a
change of heart and stopped them.

          "WAIT!" he called out. The agents stopped and turned toward him,
all ears. "What do I get for cooperating?"

          "That depends on you, Hiram," Brown told him. "We can't guarantee
you anything, but a judge might see your honest effort to help as a reason
to be lenient on you. Who knows? You might even walk free in the end, but I
doubt it seriously. Start talking and we'll do our best to help you."

          "Sit down please, gentlemen," he pleaded. The agents looked at
each other and returned to their seats. They cast cold stares at him,
silently demanding that he start talking.

          "Doing God's bidding takes many forms," he began. "I've dedicated
my life to upholding the principles of decency spelled out in the good
book."

          Smith, trying to prevent a sermon, stood and struck Gibson across
the face. "Cut the shit, reverend. My patience is wearing thin tonight, so
you better get on with it."

          Gibson cried in pain as a trickle of blood ran from his right
nostril. "The money came from a group that retained me and a member of my
flock to take out two blasphemous faggots who were causing them problems. As
my involvement became more complicated, I demanded a greater share of the
reward and they agreed."

          "What would this group want with a lowly servant of the Lord?"
Smith inquired.

          "A follower of mine has special talents they needed," he admitted.

          "Special talents?" Brown said with a raised brow. "Like what?"

          Gibson went silent again, knowing he was in danger of digging his
own grave if he gave them what they wanted. The prospect of going to jail,
though, weighed heavily on him.

          "He builds bombs," Gibson admitted quietly. The two agents feigned
astonishment at his confession.

          "How does a bomb maker have skills that a group of white collar
criminals could use?" Smith asked.

          Gibson swallowed hard. "The two faggots were getting in the way of
their plans to make millions of dollars. They needed my follower to remove
the threat they presented."

          "So let me get this straight. This group of well organized men
just happened to stumble upon your man and invite you into their scheme,
bestowing millions of dollars upon you for your troubles," Brown said
skeptically.

          Gibson hung his head. "It wasn't the first time we'd worked
together."

          The agents already knew this, but they pretended to whisper to
each other for effect. Brown nodded his head after the quiet talk ended and
left the room momentarily. When he returned, he brought another man with him
who had a perfect replica of an FBI ID badge hanging from his front pocket.

          "Hiram, meet Agent Jones of the FBI. You're troubles have grown
considerably past a simple case of tax evasion, so I've asked him to join in
our little talk." Gibson's fears soared to new heights as he regarded the
new addition.

          "Sir, your frank answers are greatly appreciated and I'm sure if
you continue cooperating as you have, I'll be able to recommend leniency at
the conclusion of your criminal trial," Jones said. Being referred to as a
criminal made Gibson bristle.

          "Now, please tell me where you and these mystery men have worked
together," he demanded.

          Hiram's will to fight melted and he began telling the whole story.
"Los Angeles, the teen center bombing," he mumbled.

          "I'm shocked, Hiram," Brown said. "You caused many deaths and
injuries to innocent people there. What would God think of your evil act?"

          "God would praise me," he spat back. "I did away with a bunch of
sinners who had no place among righteous humans like me. In Heaven, I'll be
rewarded as a hero!"

          Smith reached out and took him by the neck, causing Gibson to gag
for air. "In the eyes of the law, you're nothing but a common murderer, you
piece of shit. I want the names of your conspirators and I want them now!"

          He released his grip, and Gibson took in a needed breath of air.
"You're not officers of the law!" he raged. "I demand that you release me
immediately or I'll bring charges of my own against each of you."

          Agent Jones stepped forward and unbuttoned his coat, revealing a
large pistol holstered at his side. "The only way you're getting out of here
is in a body bag if you don't tell us whatever we want to know. It's your
choice, reverend. I haven't shot anyone in a while, but I assure you I never
miss."

          Gibson went wide eyed. "Rollins...Ed Rollins is the man I've been
working with!" he divulged.

          "Come now, reverend. Ed Rollins is a respected member of our
business community. You expect me to believe that he's behind your
duplicity?" Smith said.

          "It's true!" Gibson said frantically. "He's behind a scheme to
make millions when Lithia Bank is taken over, and the two faggots were
getting in his way. I was brought in to help remove them and give him a
scapegoat when this was all over. I swear with God as my witness that I'm
being totally honest!"

          "There's another complication here, reverend," Jones said. "One or
more of your friends has kidnapped an innocent man and may kill him if we
don't find him first. Tell us where he is."

          "I have no knowledge of this," Gibson lied. Brown drew his weapon
and placed the barrel against the side of Hiram's head.

          "Maybe I can help jog your memory," he growled.

          The reverend cried like a child and begged for mercy. "Please
don't kill me! I'll tell you what want to know!" he exclaimed.

          "You've got five seconds, Hiram, or I'm going to splatter your
despicable brains all over that wall!" Brown warned.

          "The marina!" he shouted out. "They're taking the faggot to
Rollins' boat while attempting to use him as a bargaining chip. I was
supposed to contact his attorney and demand that all charges be dropped in
return for releasing the man unharmed."

          "Do they plan to actually let him go?" Smith asked.

          "No," the reverend said. "He's too dangerous to be left alive. My
follower and I were instructed to dump him in the ocean far offshore once
they got what they wanted."

          The three agents looked at each other with concern. Time was of
the essence if they expected to rescue Jordan alive. The other two drew
their weapons and moved toward their prisoner.

          "May God have mercy on your soul, Hiram," Brown said. As they took
aim at the bawling criminal, the lights went out, causing Gibson to shriek
in fear. The sound of footsteps shuffling could be heard along with his
cries. The agents left the room and went to the main area of the warehouse.
A cadre of federal and local law enforcement officials stood waiting for
orders.

          Jones approached Agent Wyatt Crawford of the FBI, the man in
charge and his closest friend from their days in the Special Forces. The two
old buddies shook hands and embraced.

          "He's all yours, Wyatt," Seth Bolden, AKA Agent Jones, told him.

          "Get what you needed?" Crawford asked.

          Bolden nodded. "We know where the kid is, and my people are on
their way there now."

          Crawford shook his head nervously. "Anyone catches wind of what I
let you do, and they'll ruin our lives."

          Bolden chuckled. "Relax, Wyatt. Our friend has been chirping away
and I think you'll find him in a very cooperative mood. Your bosses are
going to give you a promotion when you bring him in!"

          Wyatt smiled. "Get the fuck out of here and get the kid. Remember,
no traces left behind or I can't guarantee anything."

          The men shook hands again as Bolden and the other two agents left
to inform their boss of what happened.

          Crawford and several of his subordinates went into the room where
Hiram Gibson was still screaming and crying. Someone brought the lights back
up, revealing four new people surrounding him.

          "Well, well, Reverend Gibson. What's this I hear about bombs?"
Agent Crawford said. Hiram Gibson stared at them open mouthed, realizing
he'd been had.

          Bolden and his cohorts got in a sedan, driving calmly away from
the warehouse. He dialed a number on his phone, hearing Micah answer
shortly.

          "The marina, boss," he informed him. "They're taking him to
Rollins' yacht."

          "Good work, Seth," Micah said. "And how's our guest?"

          Bolden laughed. "He's got a lot of new company with him. Tell
Barber that he'll probably have that corroborating witness he was lusting
after. The reverend's in a talkative mood now."

          "Excellent!" Micah replied. "Get the shadows to lock that marina
down. I don't want anyone leaving until we're sure Jordan's there. Call our
friend in the Coast Guard too. Cash in that favor he owes us in case they
decide to head out to sea."

          "I'm on it," Bolden said before ending the call. Micah turned to
address the four worried people with him.

          "Rollins' boat is where they're taking Jordan," he told them.

          "Is he alive?" Taylor asked worriedly.

          "I don't know for sure, but it's safe to assume he is for now.
I've got snipers locking down the docks now. No one will move in or out of
the area without us knowing about it," Micah said.

          "They're on a boat, child," Lila pointed out. "What if they pull
up anchor and sail away?"

          Micah grinned. "Not going to happen, ma'am. Recently, we assisted
the Coast Guard in detaining a ship attempting to smuggle a load of
classified weapons out of the country. Our efforts kept it from reaching
international waters, garnering a heap of praise for their success. They owe
us a favor, so my man is having them blockade the inlet to make sure that
boat stays put."

          A shred of hope entered Taylor's heart as he listened to Micah. He
was anxious to get Jordan's rescue operation underway. "What are we waiting
for? Let's go get him!"

          "Not so fast, chief," Micah cautioned. "Give my people time to
secure the area and then we'll move in. This is a delicate operation and a
million things could still go wrong. We're going to go to the location now
and assess things. When the time is right, we'll rain fire on their party
and get your man back in one piece."

          The four of them followed Micah to a waiting van with more
security people in it. It rolled away slowly, intentionally keeping a low
profile lest they attract the attention of the police that stormed the
venue. Several minutes later, they hit the main road and drove toward the
marina. Micah kept in constant contact with his people, soliciting every
detail of their placement. Forgetting that the speakers were still on, the
group was startled when muffled moans came through loud and clear.



          Jordan woke to find his extremities bound with duct tape and a gag
in his mouth. He rocked his body from side to side, feeling the medal around
his neck move. Moaning as loudly as he could, he tried to send a message to
the others that he was still alive. The movement and noise alerted Jim
Kowalski to his consciousness. He was not amused.

          "Pipe down, pussy boy!" he ordered. "You need to lie still and be
the good girl I know you can be." Micah recognized the voice right away. It
was clear to him who was responsible for Greg's death and he silently vowed
to handle the man personally.

          Jordan turned his head to find a man sitting in a chair next to
the bed he'd been placed on. A pistol with a silencer attached sat perched
in his lap. He nodded to the man in agreement, hoping the noise he'd made
was heard by his friends. His captor smiled at his capitulation.

          "Don't worry kid. If your friends give us what we want, you'll be
able to forget all about this," Kowalski told him. Jordan nodded again, sure
that they had no intention of letting him leave alive. His fate lie in the
hands of Taylor and Micah, a fact that didn't make him feel any better.
Powerless to do anything, he concentrated on the fond memories he had of
Taylor while he awaited his fate.

          The van parked several blocks away from the marina. Micah jumped
out and jogged away to join his people, leaving the group behind for the
moment. Seth Bolden saw him approaching and signaled their whereabouts. His
boss soon stood by their side.

          "Sit rep," he said to his subordinate.

          "The shadows are in place and we just got word the Coast Guard has
sealed the inlet," Bolden informed him. "There's a lone armed man topside,
which tells me that they're holding the kid below deck. I'm sure he's not
alone."

          "He's not," Micah confirmed, his teeth clenched in rage. Grabbing
Seth's binoculars, he moved stealthily forward to join one of the shadows
who was perched closer to the craft. Peering into them, he was able to see
the lone man at the bow, armed with what looked like a sawed off shotgun. He
paced the deck idly, not really paying much attention to his surroundings.
Micah carefully examined the rest of the lightly rocking boat, coming to the
conclusion that this was the only other man topside.

          "Splash him," he ordered the sniper beside him. The man nodded and
trained the Marlin .444 magnum rifle's silencer on the target. Using a 10X
scope, he brought the man's head into the crosshairs and waited for the
right moment. When the man turned away and faced out to sea, he squeezed the
trigger and sent the projectile silently on its way.

          The hollow point bullet entered the man's skull and fragmented,
taking a good portion of forehead with it upon exiting. Micah watched the
body go limp and fall overboard into the water, barely making an audible
splash. "Make sure we retrieve the body and his weapon," he ordered before
resuming his movement forward. Running from cover point to cover point,
Micah advanced toward the slip, double checking the area for more guards at
every stop. After a grueling few minutes, he reached the boat and quietly
climbed aboard.

          He looked around, trying to acquaint himself with the layout. His
experience made him aware that most yachts were set up essentially the same,
so he crawled slowly forward, looking for an entrance to the cabins below
him. Drawing his weapon, he entered a luxuriously appointed living/dining
area that had a stairway leading downwards. Cautiously, he approached it,
checking for obstacles that might stand in his way. Finding none, he
carefully descended. The hallway had three doors, two of which were open.
Those staterooms were empty. One door was closed, leading him to believe
that Jordan was being held there. He took a hold of the knob and turned it
slightly, finding it locked. Holstering his pistol, he took a fighting
stance and knocked on the door.

          Kowalski moved to answer it, expecting his cohort or the Reverend
Gibson to be outside. When he opened the door, however, the sole of a boot
shot out and impacted his abdomen solidly, sending his pistol flying. He
fell backward as Micah stormed in and rushed toward him. Kowalski threw his
legs up and thrust his feet into the man's chest, stopping his forward
progress and throwing him backward. While the stunned man regrouped,
Kowalski came to his feet and took a defensive stance. Micah assumed a
similar position, waiting for the proper time to attack. They spoke no words
as they stared each other down, their eyes communicating their violent
intentions.

          Micah jumped forward and threw a punch, which Kowalski deflected.
His own throws were avoided as well. The two well trained fighters moved
apart as they jockeyed for the upper hand. Jordan watched in silence as both
landed blow after blow on the other, but neither making much progress. It
went on like this for a while until Micah fell to his knees and threw a
punch into Kowalski's testicles with all his might. The sound of contact was
loud as the man doubled over in pain and gasped for air. Micah got to his
feet and took the struggling man's hair in his hand. Pulling him upright, he
screamed like an animal and thrust his fist forward mightily, squarely
popping Kowalski in the Adam's apple and crushing his windpipe. The man's
body fell against the wall as he struggled to breathe. His face turned blue
as the oxygen ran out and his body wilted to the ground, becoming still
moments later.

          Micah stood over the corpse, adrenaline coursing through him.
"That's for Greg," he said aloud, kicking the body a final time. Pausing
long enough to come out of the killer mode he was in, Micah went to Jordan's
side and removed the gag from his mouth.

          "Are you OK?" he asked.

          Jordan nodded. "I think so, just one hell of a headache."

          "Let's get you out of here," he said, and then brought out a knife
to release the bonds. Micah cut Jordan loose, and then helped him up. The
victim was still wobbly and not able to stand on his own at first. His
rescuer held on until his equilibrium got stronger, then slowly brought him
onto the deck. A nearby sniper saw them emerge, and rushed to assist.
Between the two of them, they shepherded Jordan safely onto the dock and
helped him toward the others.

          Once Taylor heard Micah mention Greg, he opened the door and
bolted from the van. Casting all worries of any remaining threats aside, he
ran full speed toward the marina, taking Jordan in his arms the only thing
on his mind. The guards and snipers eyed him carefully, but made no move to
hold him back, feeling the area was secured. Bolden and his men moved in,
allowing the secretive shadows to move back into the night. Jordan was about
halfway down the dock when he saw Taylor come bounding around a corner. Both
of them froze and stared at one another, tears flowing freely.

          Taylor thrust himself forward and wrapped Jordan up in a fierce
embrace, showering his lips with kisses. The two lovers cried profusely in
happiness as they held each other, never wanting to let go.

          "I love you, baby," Taylor said over and over.

          "I love you too," Jordan said into the shoulder he was buried in.

          Micah watched the scene fondly, but knew they couldn't stay there
long. "Guys, I hate to break this up, but we've got to get out of here now.
Someone might see us and let Rollins know what went down. We can't take that
chance. If you'll come with me, we'll go somewhere safer and you can pick up
where you left off."

          Taylor put his arm tightly around Jordan and led them away. Micah
took them to a waiting sedan, helping them get settled safely in the
backseat. He took the shotgun position and instructed the driver to roll.
The car moved off and drove toward the security company's compound. Micah
sent word to the van, relaying instructions for it to proceed there as well.
The driver acknowledged his orders and drove off to rendezvous with the
others.

          The two vehicles arrived within seconds of each other. Even though
Jordan was exhausted and still shaky, he excitedly basked in the affection
that Lila, Thad and Vin lavished upon him. The guards stood back, letting
the emotional reunion run its course.

          "Now you listen to me, young man," Lila said to Jordan. "I love
tearful reunions but this is quite enough!" He laughed so hard he burst into
tears as he held her tight, so relieved to be back among the most important
people in his life. The men escorted them into the building, settling them
into a comfortable conference room until everything was sorted out. Thad had
been going over the legal ramifications of today's events in his mind,
bringing a new worry to the surface. He sought Micah out to voice his
concerns.

          "Where do we stand with our two friends?" he asked.

          "Gardener cut a deal with the U.S. Attorney's office to save his
own hide. Part of his deal is testifying on your behalf about his
involvement in the scandal. The fine reverend has seen the error of his
ways, and he's clamoring for a plea deal that will keep him out of a maximum
security prison. The FBI tells me that no deal will be approved until he is
done with testimony in any pending or future cases."

          "We need to be in front of a judge in the next twenty-four hours.
The Feds have a slam dunk criminal case here that they'll pursue vigorously.
It's this kind of prosecution that fuels political ambition. Once they get
into it, our civil suit will become secondary to them, and these men might
not be available to help our cause. I can convince Judge Harris to see us in
chambers if you can see that these guys are available to us," Thad said.

          "I'll have Seth call his FBI friend and help us with the people at
Justice. You just make sure we have a judge to be in front of," Micah told
him.

          "Consider it done!" Thad promised before rejoining the others. The
late hour precluded him from calling on the spot, so he had a few hours to
kill. And what better way to waste time than in the company of good friends?
He sat down with Vin, leaning in to put a kiss on his lips. For the first
time since this case began, he felt like he was holding all the aces. Things
in court would be fun from here on out.

          The group sat around the table and had a good conversation. Taylor
insisted that Jordan stay on his lap, holding him like he'd never held him
before. He was quieter than usual, spending time silently thanking his lucky
stars that his man survived to spend another day with him. Their travails
weren't over just yet, but they were closer to having a normal life than at
any time in the recent past. No matter what it took, he was determined to
fight like hell for their partnership, viewing it as the one and only key to
a wonderful future for both of them.

          Poor Jordan was so tired that he fell asleep while curled up on
his man's chest. The return to his spot of safety on Taylor's lap offered
him the first opportunity to relax he'd had in the last few days. He wanted
to stay awake so he could be alerted to anything new, but the toll of the
strain he'd been under was too much. It won out a few minutes before Micah
came in to check on everyone.

          "Doing OK?" he directed at Taylor.

          "Never better," he answered, tightening his hold on the sleeping
man.

          Micah smiled. "You know we have a long way to go yet, don't you?"

          Taylor nodded his head affirmatively. "I know, but I've got the
love I was meant to have back in my arms. It makes all this bad shit seem
benign when you really think about it. I know we'll come out of this just
fine, and I've got you to thank."

          "I didn't do it alone, you know," Micah pointed out. "Lots of good
people made tonight a success."

          "Of course," Taylor said, "and I thank them as well. I don't know
how I'll ever repay you for all you've done."

          Micah chuckled. "We'll bill you!"

          Taylor laughed back. "I have no doubt. Truthfully, I've been
trying to block the cost of all this from my mind. Let me stay in my blind
world and know that you'll be compensated handsomely for your superior
deeds."

          "Thanks, Taylor. Your belief in our abilities is worth more than
cash to me. When things calm down, we need to sit down and discuss making a
permanent plan for your security," Micah told him.

          "I agree. Nobody and I mean nobody, gets to me or my family ever
again, Micah," Taylor said, pulling Jordan tighter to him. "Life can't be as
carefree as it once was, I know. I'm sure we can figure out how to make it
as normal as possible, though. Remember, it's not just Jordan and me you
have to worry about. I want full protection for my mother, Leonard and Carl
too."

          "Definitely!" the security agent responded. "Our focus right now
is getting to trial and putting these thugs away for good. When they get
back next week, I'll have people all over them until we're sure this storm
has passed!"

          "I could drink to having our lives back!" Vin exclaimed.

          "That's the best possible thing I could think of drinking to,"
Thad agreed. "You have my word that this is over soon, no matter what. I
think we've got all we need to fuck Rollins but good. Now might be a good
time to get your plan rolling, Lila."

          The elderly woman agreed totally. "Denton and I have chosen to
conclude our deal by tomorrow. I've convened a meeting of the managing
partners for later in the day, where we'll unveil the transfer of ownership
to his company. I can't wait to see Ed Rollins turn green when he finds out
that several of his key people have chosen to sell with me. Within the first
hour of that meeting, I expect him to be tossed out on his butt and Denton
to be elected chairman of the board."

          "It'll be a sight to see!" Taylor agreed. "Are the Feds gonna add
to his embarrassment by arresting him there?"

          "Oh yeah!" Micah exclaimed happily. "There's no way they'll pass
up on the chance to grandstand for the press. They're salivating over the
knockout punch that's expected."

          "Good!" Thad said. "Judge Harris will be most interested to hear
all of this. She's curious by nature, so adding new witnesses should be a
formality. Jed Neville's going to shit a brick, though. He's still convinced
we'll settle before it's over."

          "Maybe Jordan should think about that," Vin suggested. "All the
people that did him so wrong are going to pay dearly for their roles. It may
be time to pick their wallets for every penny he can and move on."

          "We'll have to ask him about that," Taylor reminded them. "Not
fair of us to make these kind of decisions for him."

          Vin stared at him, not believing his ears. "Why, Taylor Bryant, I
do believe you've grown up! Be ready. You'll be growing hair on your wee wee
soon!"

          The others had a good laugh at Taylor's expense. He didn't care.
What mattered was the man that slept soundly on him, the rest was just
fluff. He smiled as everyone guffawed at Vin's joke, eventually joining in
himself. From now on, he would be different, forever changed by the moment
in that bathroom where he believed he'd lost Jordan permanently. Life
doesn't grant many second chances, and he'd been blessed with three. It was
time to give back for the good fortune the gods had bestowed upon him and he
had a lifetime to do it in.

          At promptly 7 A.M., the honorable Clara Harris, the judge
presiding over Maxwell v. Stephenson, Deveraux and Company, arrived in her
chambers. While other magistrates let the prestige of their position give
them lifestyles of lackadaisical comfort, she took her status as a public
servant seriously. She was the only judge in town who would hear arguments
on weekends in her living room, if necessary. The hard work earned her a
reputation of someone who applied the law as it was written, but was willing
to consider alternative circumstances. It was this attitude that Thad hoped
to appeal to as he dialed her private number. She picked up promptly, her
voice as chipper as always.

          "Morning, your honor," Thad said.

          "Good morning to you, Mr. Barber," she replied brightly. "To what
do I owe the honor of your phone call? A continuance, perhaps?"

          Thad was known for using this tactic to stall cases he needed more
time to prepare for. "Not this time, your honor," he assured her. "What I
need is to meet with you and Mr. Neville today in chambers. Some startling
new evidence has come to light and I'm filing a motion to add three new
witnesses to the plaintiff's list."

          "It's a bit late for that I'm afraid, counselor," she said.

          "Your honor, once you hear the facts, the circumstances of my
request will become clear. All I'm asking for is the chance to present
them."

          "Alright, Mr. Barber. This better be good or I'll cite you for
employing yet another delaying tactic," the judge warned. "Be here at three
o'clock sharp. I'll have my assistant inform Mr. Neville."

          "Oh no, your honor, don't trouble yourself with that! Allow me,"
Thad said, hoping she wouldn't see through him.

          "Very well. I'll see the two of you this afternoon," she told him.

          Thad hung up and dialed his opposing counsel, busting at the seams
with excitement.

          "Thaddeus," Jed answered. "Good morning, fine sir!"

          Thad wanted to strangle Jed for using his full name. "Morning,
Jed. This is a courtesy call to inform you that we're expected in Judge
Harris' chambers at 3 P.M."

          "AHHHH! So you've decided to take my rich offer after all?" he
said with stifling arrogance.

          "Jeddah, why would anyone in their right mind want anything to do
with the pittance you're trying to ram down our throats?" Thad asked
playfully.

          Not getting an answer, he pushed on. "While you were on the golf
course, a lot has happened and I'm asking the judge to allow several new
witnesses to testify on our behalf. You might want to get up on current
events before this afternoon!"

          Jed stumbled over his words as he tried to respond. Thad silently
laughed, picturing him covered in sweat and wiping the egg from his face.
"Now, Thaddeus, maybe you and I can discuss this amongst ourselves."

          Thad grinned, knowing he'd put his adversary on the run. "No can
do. See you at three. Tootles, Jeddah!" He hung up before the man could say
another word. Happy as a clam, he went back to spend more time among the
people he cared for most.

          Via video conference that Micah set up, Lila was able to conclude
her business with Denton Tolliver. She informed her allies within the
company that she would be attending the partners' meeting the following day
and had all of her ducks lined up. Micah discussed security with her and
Taylor, coming to an agreement on how they'd be safeguarded. They made
arrangements for the others in their party to attend as well, eager for them
to share in this triumph. With all these details finished, they waited for
Thad to return with good news as well.

          Three O'clock came quickly, and Thad sat before the judge as
required. Neville was nowhere to be found, late as usual. The judge valued
punctuality, expecting attorneys in her court to be on time and ready to
proceed. Jed's absence was an obvious annoyance. He burst in at 3:15 P.M.,
offering no explanation or apology. Instead, he embarked on pleading his
case before the displeased woman.

          "Your honor, on behalf of my client, I must strenuously object to
my opposing counsel's motion. Adding these people would bias the case and
prevent my client from receiving the fair trial they've been asking for."

          "Save it, Jed," she ordered. "While we waited for your highness to
grace us with his presence, I've studied the evidence carefully and see no
reason to keep these witnesses from testifying. The plaintiff's motion is
therefore granted."

          "That's preposterous. I'm left no choice but to implore your honor
for a continuance so that I might have time to prepare for countering these
ridiculous people!" he rambled.

          "Nice try, counselor. The answer is no. You'll both have opening
arguments ready for presentation by the day after tomorrow," the judge
demanded. "Any tricks, and I'll  cite one or both of you for contempt. Now
if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a prior engagement I must get to.
Good day!"

          The lawyers rose and followed the judge from her chambers. They
stood in the hall as she boarded an elevator and moved on. The anger on
Jed's face was plain.

          "I don't know what you hope to accomplish with all these
theatrics, sir, but I assure you that we'll triumph regardless. You'll live
to rue the day your client chose to spurn our unprecedented offer!"

          Thad was over him. "Fuck off, prick," he said looking over his
shoulder as he walked down the stairs. Jed stood speechless as he watched
the counselor disappear from sight. If he could have seen Thad's face, he
would have been even more pissed at the major smile of satisfaction
plastered across it. Was it professional? No, but it certainly felt good!

          The rest of the day was fairly quiet. Micah and his team moved
everyone back to the penthouse once Thad rejoined them. Listening to him
recall the look on Jed's face when he cursed brought a round of laughter
that was a welcome diversion to the stress they'd all been under. Most had
managed to catch a few hours sleep here and there on couches located in the
various offices and felt somewhat less spent. The exception was Thad, whose
bloodshot eyes were rimmed by hefty dark circles. Vin sent him to bed
straight away once they got in, refusing to accept any of the reasons he
gave for wanting to stay up a few more hours. Resigned to his fate, Thad
quietly undressed and was gone the minute he hit the pillow.

          Vin ordered a variety of pizzas from a local restaurant for the
accumulated family and security folks strewn over his home. They ate it all
up quickly, since the excitement had consumed everyone to the point that
food wasn't even thought about. When it was all done, the extended family
retired to the living room to enjoy a nice glass of red wine from Lila's
vineyard that she'd given Vin when they visited. She took the conversation
to a subject she'd been waiting for the proper moment to discuss.

          "I have a question for you, Jordan," she began. "Before the shots
started, you seemed to be mesmerized by the pictures of the children who
survived cancer. What was going through your mind as you looked at them?"

          Jordan smiled. "Those kids were incredible! I was overcome with
emotion when I saw the difference in their eyes while they were sick and
after they were in remission. It got me thinking about how badly I want to
get the next phase of my life underway."

          "Have you decided what that phase entails?" Taylor asked him.

          "I think so," Jordan answered. "When I was talking to Denton
Tolliver, he mentioned that he works closely with his son in assisting gay
teenagers. He didn't go into many specifics, but I assume that these kids
are the ones who've gotten a chilly reception from friends and family when
their sexuality was revealed."

          "That's very true," Lila said. "I've been to their center and
helped raise money to support it. Some amazing results have come from their
programs, helping to save many young people from a life on the streets
peddling their bodies to survive or becoming addicted to drugs. If you like,
I can arrange a visit when we have our lives back."

          "I'd like that, because I think we could use a center like that
right here," Jordan said. "This area is equally divided between those who
are blessed with money and those who live just above the poverty line. It's
been my experience that these polar opposites are the social classes that
are most likely to reject their children for coming out. When I went back to
work for Judy, I spent many of my lunches researching this on the internet.
The closest center that provides services to these kids is over seven
hundred fifty miles north of here. To the south, I couldn't find any. I
don't know where to begin, but I think there's a need here. It's all just
ideas in my head right now."

          "Good ideas," Vin said. "Some of my art students are gay, and
they've told me horror stories about coming out to their families. The
biggest problem I see is keeping them out of the social service system and
providing a place where their specific needs can be met. Too often, the
state ignores these kids and I'm sure they'd be happy to have somewhere that
would take them."

          "You're talking about a place to house them, not just somewhere
they can go that won't judge or hurt them?" Jordan asked.

          "Exactly. A lot of them end up on the streets because they have
nowhere to turn. I think it's important to be able offer a long term safe
haven, not only a joint to hang in," Vin replied.

          "That would be wonderful!" Lila exclaimed. "You wanted to make a
real difference, and somewhere like this would afford you that opportunity."

          "Yeah, but it would take some huge money to get it going and even
more to keep it running. I'm not sure I'm up for spending my days begging
for donations," Jordan said.

          "Child!" Lila scolded. "If I can keep St. Jude's coffers full,
then I could certainly keeps yours equally funded!"

          "I couldn't ask you to do that, Lila. You've got so much going
already. Surely a small potatoes operation like we're talking about wouldn't
need a fundraiser of your caliber. You're meant to be on the national
scene," he said to her.

          Lila looked at him in shock. "Jordan Maxwell, you are family! And
as such, we do whatever we have to do for each other. I would be honored not
only to raise money for you, but actually contribute my time and energy to
see that your place was a special one."

          "Me too," Vin added. "I could teach art classes there and ask a
friend of mine who gives dance classes to join us as well. Most of these
kids are very creative and need an outlet to express it."

          "Some are going to be in pretty bad shape mentally. How do you
propose we deal with that?" Jordan inquired.

          "I might be able to help there," Taylor offered. "I handle the
retirement fund of a large psychiatric group. They're very loyal clients and
I could solicit recommendations from them on how to proceed."

          "That would help," Vin agreed, "but the most important thing would
be to show them love and support, let them know they're not alone in the
world."

          Jordan took in all the information being presented. There was
still a lot to cover, but maybe this was a decent track to start on. "This
is a good place to start, and I have even more to think about. For now,
let's sleep on it. We're all worn out and need to get a good night's rest.
We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

          They all agreed and helped clean up the remnants of dinner. After
spending time exchanging goodnight hugs and kisses, they adjourned to their
quarters for some well deserved rest. Taylor and Jordan stripped naked, then
crawled under the covers. Sex was not in the cards that evening, but Jordan
felt an overwhelming need to feel Taylor's warm skin pressed against his.
They cuddled together, tangling their bodies, Jordan's head resting on his
man's chest. He played with the soft hairs on it while they talked some
before sleeping.

          "You ready for tomorrow?" Jordan asked.

          "I think so," Taylor answered. "If things go right, then
Stephenson will be a vastly different place after tomorrow. Tolliver offered
me a place in their new world order. I haven't said anything because I'm not
sure if I should take it or not."

          "Really?" Jordan said in surprise. "Would it be good for you?"

          "Yes and no," Taylor explained. "The financial and career
satisfaction part would be phenomenal. I'd have a future I never thought
possible. The bad part is I might have to travel a lot, and that would keep
me away from you more than I want."

          "I think we could adapt," Jordan said. "It's not like I won't be
able to come along with you sometimes. Besides, you know I love you no
matter where you might be, and I'll be right here waiting when you return."

          Taylor kissed him lightly. "I know, baby. I'm just not sure I'm
ready to be away from you at all. It's got nothing to do with trust. It's so
good to be near you, to hold you and smell your cologne. I feel like I was
meant to be at your side when we're together and I love that feeling. It
won't be easy to let go of."

          Jordan snuggled in tighter. "I know what you mean, but you can't
pass up the chance to advance your career by leaps and bounds, honey. I
don't like the thought of you being away anymore than you do, but our love
is secure enough to withstand it. If you want to take it, you have my full
support."

          "OK, baby," he replied with a yawn. They kissed a final time, and
moved closer together before drifting off into a heavy slumber. Neither
stirred a single time the whole night through.

          Everyone was up early, Vin and Jordan included. While Thad and
Taylor were chipper, the other two weren't so enthusiastic and didn't speak
until the second cup of coffee was headed down. They ate a light breakfast
before beginning their morning rituals.

          "Is Lila up?" Jordan asked the others.

          "Are you kidding me?" Vin replied. "She was up before us! I heard
her in the shower when I came in here."

          Taylor snickered. "If I know my mother, she's trying on her eighth
outfit right now. Wait till you see her. I think you'll be impressed."

          "Who cares what she's wearing!" Jordan stated. "You can't help but
be impressed by a woman like her no matter what she looks like."

          "Agreed," Thad said. "I wouldn't want to be on her bad side. Be an
awfully chilly place to be."

          As they laughed as Thad's joke, Lila made her grand entrance and
the results were indeed impressive. She'd chosen a black wool skirt suit
with gray pinstripes. Her shirt was bright white and had a high collar that
covered her entire neck. A string of pearls hung beneath it tastefully, and
a small broach joined the blouse's two sides together. Silk pantyhose and
shiny black heels completed the ensemble, making her the personification of
poise and power. The men whistled and whooped as she spun around, showing
off her formal look. The folks at Stephenson were probably unprepared for a
woman dressed like this. They certainly wouldn't forget the day they dealt
with her in this outfit.

          Jordan set her up with coffee and toast, then left with Taylor to
get ready. They showered, shaved and put on their best suits, which were
brought from the estate. They gelled their hair and fussed with it several
times until it fell into place. Standing next to each other before the
mirror, they were proud of how they looked and felt equipped to handle what
lie ahead. Done with their preparations, they rejoined Lila, earning a few
compliments of their own. Micah arrived a short time later, briefing all of
them on the procedures he insisted on. After recent events, no one argued.

          Without interference, they soon stood in the lobby of the
Stephenson building, greeting Denton Tolliver and his staff.

          "My, my, don't you look good enough to melt a man's heart," Denton
commented to Lila.

          "Why thank you, sir," she replied in a flirty tone. Jordan felt
the friction between them, and felt he should speak to her later about
pursuing it further. Today was about business, however. Lila accepted
Denton's arm and they boarded the elevator for their ride to the top.

          Ed Rollins spent the morning in Jim Gardener's office. He looked
around the spacious area in glee, convinced the job and all its perks were
finally his. It was assumed  he'd be elected to replace the man at today's
meeting, and he intended to waste no time putting his mark on the firm. He
was bothered that Kowlaski and Gibson hadn't returned his calls, but the
allure of the power that awaited him pushed those concerns aside. He smiled
to himself as he sat back in the plush chair, smoking a good cigar. The
chances he'd taken would begin to pay off shortly, and another vast payoff
wasn't far off. 'Life was good and would only get better,' he thought, as he
puffed away in satisfaction.

          The partnership meeting began with a toast to the memory of Jim
Gardener. Even though he detested the man and saw him as an obstacle to his
goals, Rollins spent thirty minutes proselytizing about his great
accomplishments and his huge contributions to the firm. The men raised their
glasses once more, toasting the man most saw as the firm's most influential
executive. Eager to tackle new business, Rollins left the tributes behind
and addressed the main reason they were there today.

          "With Jim's unfortunate passing," he began, "our firm has become a
rudderless ship in a choppy ocean with no captain to pilot her safely back
home. Our clients need the stability of a man that can lead our great
company and protect their interests, someone with the integrity necessary to
tell the business community at large that Stephenson is the firm for them.
Gentlemen, I open the floor for nominations to replace our dearly departed
chairman.

          Frederick Parker, a junior managing partner, rose and spoke first.
"I nominate Mr. Edward Rollins to be chairman of our great organization and
steer us to even greater prosperity!."

          Another partner, Adam Wright, stood soon after. "I second that
nomination and call for an immediate vote." Rollins acted surprised but
smiled inwardly that his pawns were behaving as expected. Before a vote
could be taken, however, the heavy double doors into the room opened,
revealing none other than Lila Bryant standing on the other side.

          The partners rose out of respect and began quietly applauding
their largest stockholder. She moved about the room shaking hands and
addressing each man personally. Once each of them had been properly greeted,
she came to the head of the table and motioned for them to sit so she could
begin her address.

          "Thank you, gentlemen, for that warm reception. As you know, my
family's involvement with your employer has been long and historic. We've
had our tumultuous moments, but I never stopped believing that this
organization was filled with honorable people working hard to ensure this
firm's success. I thank all of you for your hard work and dedication to our
fine company."

          The partners stood again and applauded louder. Rollins sneered at
her, resentful of her unwelcome interruption. She smiled back at him in
contempt, daring the man to encroach on her rights as the firm's single
largest stockholder. Fearing an uprising from the partners, he chose to
remain quiet.

          "It is with sadness and dismay that I have watched recent events
unfold," she continued, "events that threaten to sully our sterling
reputation. Even though I have been a silent partner over the last several
years, I could not stand back and let the livelihood of three thousand
people go down the drain. To do so would be counterproductive to the future
of the organization and the workers who count on us everyday to safeguard
their incomes. Therefore, as of 11 A.M. yesterday, I purchased the
partnership interests of six of your longtime coworkers, raising my stake to
fifty four percent of your outstanding stock." She paused to let that sink
in, directly staring down the looks of disbelief they were casting her.
Rollins boiled inside, desperately trying to think of a way to prevent his
rightful place from being torn away. Lila gave him no time to respond and
continued her speech.

          "I have no desire to actively participate in the company's day to
day affairs, however. Things cannot go on like they have, and I found
someone willing to make the investment necessary to ensure that Stephenson
will become a place where talented people can thrive, regardless of the
choices they make in their personal lives. After taking a controlling stake,
I sold my entire block to The Tolliver Companies, whose chairman is a man of
unequaled integrity, a man who will see this company into the future as it
should be. Without further delay, I present your new majority stockholder,
Mr. Denton Tolliver."

          The tall silver haired man entered the room to tentative applause
as the partners considered the ramifications of what they'd been told. He
strode confidently to the head of the room, ready to speak to his newest
employees.

          "Good day, gentlemen, and welcome to the first day as a new
powerhouse in the financial services industry. For years, my company has
financed a variety of large scale transactions and developed a very
profitable niche doing so. Our investors have earned generous returns,
giving us a loyal client base to offer our products to. What we lack is any
presence in the advisory areas, and I feel this acquisition will fill that
void. Combining Stephenson's expertise in trading, financial management, and
advisory services with our knowledge of financial instruments will create an
entity that can serve our customers' every need. No longer will we have to
rely on outside investment banks to represent our clients to the business
community."

          "Your organization is filled with people who have a burning desire
to succeed and grow. They'll mesh well with mine, giving birth to a culture
where men and women can work hard, be honest, and achieve their ultimate
career goals. Whether a good person is black, female or homosexual, this
will be a place that embraces their abilities and works hard to ensure that
they're rewarded handsomely for them. Does that mean that massive changes
are coming? Yes it does. Does it mean that all of you here will be phased
out in favor of current Tolliver employees? No it does not! There will be
some immediate personnel movements that are necessary for a smooth
integration, but every one of you has an equivalent chance of promotion as
my current staff does. You have my personal guarantee on that."

          "Effective tomorrow, I've asked Maria Consuelos, a brilliant
manager and keen financial mind, to become CEO of the new
Tolliver/Stephenson Group. She will work hard to mesh our two companies and
be on the lookout for talented individuals needed to fill her staffing
requirements. Her door, like my door, is open to any of you that may have an
idea or desire that needs expression. We hope to hear from each and every
level, from top managers to secretaries. A good idea is just that,
regardless of who brings it to the table. Maria will also begin a campaign
to attract the best women and minority candidates in the business. I feel
that diversity will be a key component to our future success and support all
initiatives that help achieve that goal. No one working for me will be
permitted to discriminate against a coworker for any reason, period! I've
also cut a side deal to take over Bryant Financial and have convinced Taylor
Bryant himself to lead our wealth management activities. He'll have a wide
latitude in setting the division's course and will work closely with Maria
to ensure our success as a team. Luring him back wasn't easy, but it's our
policy of diversity in action."

          Taylor walked into the room with Jordan at his side, receiving a
standing ovation from the men. It lasted some time, until Denton took back
center stage and started again.

          "Now I'm not stupid, nor do I have a pie in the sky view of this
transaction. It will be hard work and there'll be many bumps in the road.
For those of you who don't have the mettle to ride it out, I completely
understand. I will gladly pay you the same amount per share I gave Mrs.
Bryant and wish you well in your future endeavors. You may leave free from
any worries about bad references or retribution, as my companies gave that
practice up many moons ago. Should you decide to give me and my people a
chance, I offer to convert your partnership shares into common shares in our
new venture. Additionally, you'll be rewarded for your dedication and hard
work with more shares every year. I leave these offers open for seven days.
Once my ownership reaches the eighty percent level, I'll begin merging out
the remaining partnership units automatically, as is my right under the law.
I urge you to remain onboard and help make our great companies even better."

          The applause was booming this time, as the men smiled and nodded,
approving of what they'd heard so far. Rollins was livid, and stormed from
the room in protest. The partners' claps became even louder as most cheered
their soon to be chairman. Frederick Parker, the man who had earlier
nominated Rollins to be their new leader, stood up and asked for quiet.

          "Gentlemen, I would like to withdraw my earlier nomination and
invite Mr. Denton Tolliver to become our new chairman of the board!"

          A gaggle of voices seconded the motion, and the I's carried it.
Denton was now in charge and smiled proudly. They eventually settled down
and became quieter as their new boss moved to speak again. "I'll be happy to
entertain any questions from the floor."

          "Do you intend to close our offices and move us to your base of
operation?" one partner asked.

          "That's a good question," Denton told him, "and the answer is no.
I've decided to take over every floor in this building and make it the world
headquarters for our sprawling interests."

          A small young man who was obviously not a partner raised his hand
and was called upon. "We've got some bad things going on here that could
cost the firm its license to operate. How do you intend to handle pending
litigation and criminal complaints against us?"

          Denton took a deep breath. "I have a firm policy of cooperation
with any and all oversight or law enforcement organizations. As far as the
criminal complaints, I've instructed my legal team to give full access to
any records these officials ask for without requiring a warrant. I have
nothing to hide and expect integrity to be a major component of everyone's
daily life. Those who breech it will find the world to be a very lonely
place, and will be terminated on the spot without exception."

          Moving beside Jordan, he took on the second part of the man's
question. "As far as the major civil complaint we're facing, I've gotten the
rare opportunity to learn a lot about the defendant on a personal level. I
find him to be credible, and feel shame that he suffered due to the
duplicitous actions of others. Therefore, we will enter into negotiations to
settle these horrible charges. As part of this settlement, any and all
changes required to prevent a repeat of this situation will be instituted
post haste!"

          Jordan cast a look at Thad, who nodded his head in approval. A
light had appeared at the end of the tunnel and he wanted to race toward it.
If Tolliver was the honorable man he claimed to be, then all this would be
over soon and he could at last return to the business of living.

          Denton took questions for about an hour and then led the group
back to the office once occupied by Jim Gardener. They found Ed Rollins
sitting behind the desk with a cocktail in hand, seething in anger. Denton
ushered all of them in and went to stand before the man at the center of
this debacle. They stared at each other coldly.

          "A fucking faggot!" Rollins raged. "You'd cheat me out my right to
lead this company on the word of some pussy boy faggot! You're just as bad
as he is, maybe worse!"

          Denton's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Rollins, I ask you to tone down your
hateful rhetoric and remember that this man is a fellow human being."

          "Shit can your save the world speech, Mother Theresa!" he spat.
"The only thing this sissy is good for is giving out his ass to respectable
people. Other than that, he has no place among us. He's just another hole
that needs a cock to survive!"

          "You should be ashamed of yourself, Edward," Lila scolded. "My
husband would never have approved of your actions."

          "That asshole didn't know shit. If it wasn't for Jim and me, he'd
have lost your entire fortune. We made him what he was and you owe me for
that!" Rollins yelled. Taylor left the room when he heard his father being
berated, unable to stand the stinging comments any longer.

          "As for you, faggot," he said to Jordan. "I gave you a great
chance and you pissed it away by trying to get this firm in a heap of
trouble. I did what I needed to do to protect both of us. Besides, my
clients told me you really got into it and begged them to do you harder.
Stop bullshitting us all with your victim routine and face the fact that you
got off on being their whore!"

          Jordan's temper boiled over. "You piece of shit! I did what you
wanted because you threatened me, not because I liked it. From the moment it
began, I fantasized about taking you down and making you drink your own
medicine. Those fat bastards you let fuck me were disgusting, but nowhere
near as despicable as you. I've never hated anyone in my life. This once,
however, I'm making an exception. It's going to be a pleasure watching you
go down, and become the bottom bitch to some smelly felon. As he gets off in
your gaping pussy, I want you to think of me, and realize that you feel the
same way I felt, worthless and degraded. Only difference is that it fits you
perfectly. Enjoy prison, Eddie boy!"

          "Get real you little pansy!" Rollins chided. "No jury will ever
defend a nymphomaniac slut fag like you over a respected businessman like
me! The only way that would happen is if they tried me in one of those
debasing clubs you people love to flaunt yourself in. No, my little fairy
princess, I'll survive just fine and go on to become richer than you could
ever fathom."

          Jordan bent down and got right in Rollins' face. "I don't care
what it takes. With my dying breath, I'll make sure that the world knows
what a pathetic slug you really are."

          "Say what you want, kid. I have connections all over this state,
and they'll see that no one hears your words. I've been at this game a lot
longer and I play it without emotion. Trust me, faggot. It's you who will
end up going down."

          Before Rollins could take another verbal shot at his lover, Taylor
burst through the door with Jim Gardener at his side. The evil man went pale
at the sight, and stood up in shock.

          "You're right, Edward," Taylor said. "They may not listen to
Jordan. I'm sure they'll be anxious to hear what the recently deceased James
Gardener has to say, though"

          Rollins stumbled over his words. "What the fuck is this? You're
dead! I know for a fact that you died in that parking garage!"

          "Which parking garage?" Thad asked in a cunning tone.

          "At the airport!" Rollins exclaimed, implicating himself in the
murder attempt. "This can't be! Jim, tell me you didn't rat me out. Tell me
you stayed true to our friendship and our years of history together."

          "It's over, Ed," was all Gardener said to him.

          "It's not over until I say it's over, god dammit!" he railed.
"You've not heard the last of this I assure you!"

          "Stop it!" Gardener yelled. "You tried to blackmail me, so I told
them everything I knew in hopes that no more innocent people would be hurt.
Trust me on this, Ed. The best you can hope to do is cut a deal to lessen
your sentence. I'm not the only one in this, you know. Hiram's been talking
too, so I'd say you're facing some serious issues. Let go of the hate and
think of your family's honor. Come clean, Ed and rest easy in the knowledge
that you've begun to make amends for the years of havoc you wreaked."

          "NEVER!" Rollins exclaimed. "I'll never give a fudge packer like
him any satisfaction. I know how this game is played, Jim, and I intend to
be in it to win it. I'll not let years of carefully crafted plans go down
the shitter, and you shouldn't have either!"

          "The time to come clean was long overdue," Gardener said
regretfully. "I've disgorged all of my illegal profits and a good chunk of
my assets, so I'm no longer the wealthy and influential man I once was. Now
though, I can look my children in the eye and tell them I'm sitting in
prison for doing something right. Think about it hard before you decide to
fight a hopeless war, Ed."

          "Pussy!" Rollins yelled. "We had it all, Jim and you let this
subhuman piece of trash get to you. You've made your bed and I hope you
strangle in it!"

          Denton Tolliver had reached his breaking point. "Mr. Rollins, it's
people like you that teach us what happens when greed goes unchecked. I'm
left no choice but to terminate your employment and ask you to vacate these
premises in the next thirty minutes. I suggest you go quietly or I'll ask
Mr. Bryant's security officers to remove you."

          Rollins collapsed into the chair behind him, bewildered that the
day had taken such a horrible turn against him. Not one to add insult to
injury, Tolliver turned to leave and was followed by the others in the room.
Before he got out the door, Jordan turned back and stood before his
tormentor. Not bound by any of Denton's commitments to the constraints of
honor, he withdrew two condoms from his coat pocket and set them on the desk
in front of him.

          "You might want to ask Bubba to wear these when he fucks you.
Never know what your future husband could be carrying." Triumphantly, he
turned and walked out, leaving Rollins alone to stare at the foil packages.

          As Jordan left, a group of armed men in windbreakers entered. The
letters 'FBI' were emblazoned on their backs. Agent Wyatt Crawford, the same
man who arrested Hiram Gibson, led his team toward their target.

          "Edward Rollins," he said loudly. "You're under arrest for
attempted murder, kidnapping, and accessory to murder."

          Two agents surrounded him and brought him to his feet. Roughly
putting his arms behind his back, they cuffed his wrists and turned him
toward their boss. Withdrawing a card from his pocket, Crawford read the man
his Miranda rights word for word from it. Rollins remained silent, a defiant
look in his eyes. When the reading was finished, Crawford pushed Rollins
back into the desk chair.

          "Let's talk a while, Eddie," he said as the doors closed behind
them.

          The family regrouped in a conference room to recover from the
traumatic scene. As Jordan came in, Taylor rushed over and hugged him
fiercely.

          "He's a twisted man, baby. Don't you listen to a word he said.
You're the most beautiful human I've ever known and I feel privileged to be
in your presence."

          "I know, honey," Jordan replied. "It still hurts, though. I'm not
used to being the target of hate like that and for no other reason than my
attraction to men, well one particular man." They smiled at each other
before joining in a wet kiss.

          When their romantic moment ended, Denton cleared his throat and
addressed Jordan. "With your permission, I was wondering if you and your
attorney would walk with me for a while. I feel the need for some fresh
air."

          Jordan looked to Thad for his agreement, receiving an affirmative
nod. "We'd be happy to," he replied.

          Denton smiled and motioned for them to follow. The three of them,
plus Micah and a few hand picked protectors, strolled off, settling at a
picnic table in a nearby park. With the sound of children laughing in the
background, he got right to the point.

          "I wasn't talking idly when I mentioned settling your case,"
Denton said. "What would it take to put all this behind us?"

          Jordan started to answer, but decided to defer to Thad at the last
second. "First, a cash payout for my client's extreme pain and suffering.
He's been through the mill and deserves a number that reflects what he
endured. Second, a thorough investigation to determine who else within the
organization had knowledge of these events and did nothing to stop them. We
insist that those people be fired without severance compensation and be
turned over to the proper authorities. Third, a set of written rules that
will prevent this from happening again. We'd retain our right of refusal and
would have to agree to any final draft. Fourth, a reimbursement of expenses
incurred as a direct result of Rollins' illegal acts, including the damage
to Jordan and Taylor's home. And last, a public statement that admits guilt
and spells out the remedies we've discussed. Included in that statement must
be an apology to my client."

          Denton rested with his chin in his hand as he considered the
offer. "How much cash would you consider appropriate?"

          "That's up to my client," Thad responded. "The decision on that
rests with him."

          Tolliver turned to Jordan. "Well, young man?"

          Being put on the spot like this made him uneasy. "I haven't really
thought about it, truthfully. Make me an offer."

          Denton smiled thinly. "Very well, how about twenty five million."

          Jordan remembered Thad's admonishment to never accept a first
offer. "Forty five million," he countered.

          Denton laughed uproariously, but not in a condescending way.
"Impressive, thirty million."

          "Forty million," Jordan insisted, "and that's as low as I'll go.
The money will be put to use in a worthy way so I can't, in good conscience,
go any lower."

          Tolliver thought briefly. "Done," he responded, extending his hand
to Jordan. The young negotiator took it gladly, shaking it firmly.

          "We'll also pay any fees Mr. Barber sees fit to charge you. Please
make sure my accountants get your statement promptly," he told Thad.

          "With pleasure," the attorney answered.

          "Now that we can be friendly, please do me the honor of being my
guests at dinner this evening. I'd be eternally grateful if you could
convince Lila to attend as well," Denton said.

          "She'll be there. You have my word on it," Jordan promised.

          Denton put his hand on Jordan's shoulder and patted it paternally.
"You're a fine young man, Jordan. I see great things in your future and hope
you'll allow me to a part of it."

          "I'd be offended if you weren't, Mr. Tolliver," Jordan said
respectfully.

          Denton turned to regard Thad, who stood by in a sort of daze from
the quick pace of their negotiations. "I'd like to get some time alone with
you as well. It's not often that you find someone with your morals in the
legal arena, and I think I could keep you quite busy, if you're interested."

          "Of course!" Thad replied eagerly.

          "Very well, then. I'll expect you and that handsome husband of
yours at dinner tonight also."

          "We'll be there, sir," Thad assured him.

          Denton bristled at their formality. "One more thing, guys," he
said to both, "if we're going to be friends as well as business associates,
I insist that you call me Denton. We're all people here and I prefer to drop
titles that do nothing but restrict where we might end up."

          Thad and Jordan just nodded, wowed by the down to earth ways that
made Denton Tolliver the rare man he was. Feeling bold, Jordan broached a
subject that might set off an unwelcome chain of events as they walked back
to the office.

          "She likes you a lot, you know" he said, referring to Lila. "You
make her blush, and nobody EVER shakes Lila Bryant up like that."

          Denton laughed heartily. "She's an amazing woman, but I've been
trying to court her for years without success. I'd love to take our
association to a different level, if she were willing of course."

          "Leave that to me," Jordan said. "We have a very special
relationship and I might be able to soften her stance."

          As the elevator doors closed, Denton said, "Any help you can offer
me would be gladly accepted and never forgotten."

          Jordan smiled cunningly as the doors opened on the desired floor.
His thoughts came to a halt when the men found a handcuffed Ed Rollins and
his captors standing in their way. The former victim and his broken handler
stared at each other coldly as they passed. Unable to resist, Jordan cast a
final shot as the doors were closing.

          "Love the new jewelry, girl!," he said, drawing a huge laugh from
Thad. While it wasn't exactly in good taste, he was thrilled to see his
friend growing stronger. He was still shocked about what Jordan was trying
to set in motion, so he pulled him aside before they rejoined the others.

          "Taken up bull riding, have we?" he kidded once they were alone.

          Jordan chuckled. "Maybe. Lila deserves love as much as the rest of
us. She just needs a push in the right direction."

          "Careful, boy," Thad warned. "You're dealing with a ball of fire
here and you might get badly burned."

          Jordan rolled his eyes. "You attorneys worry too much! Have faith
in me, Thad, for god's sake! You know you don't push Lila Bryant too hard,
but I have to try. Let me have my fun."

          The two friends entered the room giggling like children with their
arms around each other. The sight caused Vin and Taylor to smile widely,
moving to their respective partners' side. Jordan grabbed Taylor's face and
laid a long, sensuous tongue kiss on him, surprising his unsuspecting lover.
Taylor got over the shock quickly, melting into the moment.

          "I love you more than life itself, Taylor Bryant," Jordan said
when they broke.

          "I love you too, baby," Taylor replied, staring deeply into his
man's eyes. "I gather everything went well."

          "Better than you could imagine," Jordan replied. "It's over,
honey!"

          The couple embraced, brimming with excitement at the chance to
begin their life together once again. With Jordan pressed to him, he looked
up and mouthed a silent "thank you" to whomever might be listening from
above. They continued clutching each other, wallowing in the glow that
surrounded them until Jordan spoke.

          "Can I ask you for something?" he said shyly.

          "Anything, baby. You name it and it's yours," Taylor replied with
feeling.

          "Could we go home for a little while, just you and me? I know it's
still in pieces, but I feel the need to be somewhere special with you."

          Taylor brought his face up and softly kissed his lips. "Let's go,"
he answered.

          Micah was summoned and a car soon waited downstairs. They held
onto each other desperately as it uneventfully took them away. Soon, the
bright array of tropical flowers  Jordan loved so much was right in front of
them. The car pulled under the portico, allowing all its passengers to
disembark. Jordan looked around happily, pleased beyond words to be at the
place that held a special place in his heart. Taylor scooted in behind him,
wrapping him up tightly as they stared at the grounds before them.

          From the front, the house looked like it always did, imposing and
majestic. As they went through the front door and into the main salon, that
image shattered. The cavernous hole left by the blast was covered in sheets
of plastic, the yellow crime scene tape flapping in the ocean breeze. Rubble
was scattered about, leaving some of Taylor's most sentimental possessions
in ruin. In the light, the gravity of the damage was much plainer, bringing
tears to Jordan's eyes. Taylor saw his sadness, and wrapped him up once
again.

          "Don't cry, baby," he comforted.

          "I'm sorry, honey, I just can't help it," Jordan said overcome
with emotion. "Your house is destroyed, and it's all my fault."

          Taylor spun him around. "Don't ever say that again! This is all
just stuff, and stuff can be replaced. The one thing that matters to me most
is standing right here, thankfully unharmed. That's all that matters to me.
Whether we live in this mansion or a trailer, it'll be paradise as long as
we're together. Never forget that!"

          "I could never love anyone more," Jordan said sniffling. "Boxers,
down to your boxers mister!"

          Taylor gave him a perplexed look. "Don't think, honey. Just
strip," Jordan ordered as he began removing his own clothes. Taylor gave up
and began stripping as well. The two soon stood before each other
practically nude, letting their eyes roam over the others smooth body.
Jordan took Taylor's hand and began leading him toward the protective
plastic sheeting. Finding a break in it, he took them out onto what remained
of the veranda. Carefully navigating among the strewn blocks, they took the
stairs down and followed the path to the beach. Jordan tightened his grip on
Taylor's hand as their toes hit the soft sand. They walked on, the tepid
water rushing over their ankles. Several other male/female couples passed
them, but Jordan never broke their hands, proud to be with someone he cared
for so much. Playfully kicking water on one another and falling into each
others arms on purpose, they reached the destination Jordan had in mind.

          The long rock jetty jutted into the sea proudly, an impenetrable
barrier to sea's relentless assault. The two observed it for some time. It
was a special place for them, a place where the worries of the world left
them alone if only for a moment. Jordan pulled Taylor forward and onto the
various boulders. Selecting one that could accommodate both of them and let
water splash their feet, he sat Taylor down and curled onto his lap. Neither
said a word, allowing their bodies to merge together and the feelings of
contentment to take over. Taylor rubbed his man's arms lightly, causing
goose bumps to rise wherever he touched. For Jordan, the feeling bordered on
ticklishness, but was far more pleasurable. Sensing his effect, Taylor
advanced to kissing his neck and delightfully nipping at his ear. His victim
cooed and purred with approval, immersed in sensations he feared they'd
never share again. The breakwater was a place they could share, and sharing
was Jordan's sole purpose for bringing them here. They had ground to cover
and little time to do it, so he began talking to the love of his life.

          "I can't believe all this is nearly over. A few loose ends to tie
up and we have our lives back!" he announced.

          "I hear ya, babe. Feels like forever since we've had time for us
without interruption," Taylor said.

          "Mmm Hmmm," Jordan agreed. "You haven't asked me a thing about my
meeting with Denton. Don't you want to know what happened?"

          "Baby, when you guys came back, I caught the happy look on your
face. It's been so long since I've seen it that I knew all went well. If you
want to tell me what happened, then I'll be glad to listen. I don't need to
know, though. Seeing your face so bright and cheery is plenty for me,"
Taylor responded.

          Jordan was a little hurt that Taylor didn't want to know, but
chose not to make a big deal of it. "OK, honey. I won't bother you with it
then. I'm happy just sitting here, feeling you against me."

          Taylor caught on to the game going on here, deciding to change its
course. Relocating his fingers to his man's sides, he began lightly running
the tips across the sensitive skin. Jordan eyes bugged out, but he fought
down the urge to giggle. Taylor wasn't fooled, and sped up the pace of his
probing. The ticklish man endured the torture silently, bent on resisting to
the last second. Impressed by the willpower but unwilling to lose, Taylor
dug his fingers in firmly and began to wiggle them haphazardly. It did the
trick, making Jordan breakdown into a fit of laughter and begging for mercy.


          "Of course I want to hear what went on, silly man," Taylor kidded
while tickling harder. "Ready to tell me? Or do I have to go for the feet?"

          "No feet," Jordan said, gasping for air, "I'll tell you."

          "It's about time!" Taylor cajoled, ceasing his attack and letting
his fidgety man calm down.

          "We settled with Denton," Jordan announced once he could breathe
normally.

          "Denton? On a first name basis, are we?" Taylor asked.

          "He might be your new chairman, but I suggest you get used to
calling him that too. I promise he won't have it any other way. Never have I
encountered someone so rich, yet so common. He'll be the greatest boss
you've ever had," Jordan enthused.

          "You make me sound like a rank and file employee, babe! Not to
sound petty, but I am a senior vice president and a division CEO," Taylor
reminded him.

          "Excuse me, your highness!" Jordan joked. "I'll make sure the
cabana boys sprinkle rose petals at your feet as you walk from now on."

          "Make sure they're cute and not wearing much. I don't want
anything complicated when I have my way with them," Taylor shot back.

          Jordan slapped his lover's chest. "Such a jerk. A jerk I'm
hopelessly in love with, but a jerk nonetheless."

          Taylor hugged Jordan tightly and began nuzzling his neck, feeling
the man's muscles tighten. "So tell me about it. What did he offer you?" He
never let up his ministrations while asking.

          "For starters, forty million dollars," Jordan said, his voice
jumping every time Taylor's tongue touched him.

          The game stopped dead in its tracks. "Jesus, Jordan. That's a shit
pot full of money!" Taylor exclaimed.

          Jordan grinned. "Damn right it is! And I negotiated the amount
myself. You'd have been so proud of me."

          Taylor was still in shock. "What do you intend to do with that
kind of cash?"

          "I was thinking of hiring a wealth manager. He has to be sweet,
giving, have a heart of gold and be drop dead sexy. Any recommendations?"
Jordan teased.

          "Now who's being the dork?" Taylor asked.

          They giggled and shared another short kiss, returning promptly to
the matter at hand.

          "I don't really know what I want to do with it. My mom and Petey
need a decent house and car. That's my first priority. Petey will go to any
college he wants. I want to put enough away to cover his education and leave
some to give him a leg up in life," Jordan said. "Mostly, though, I want to
make my dream of a place that helps displaced gay kids become a reality. Not
so far fetched with this amount of money."

          "Not at all," Taylor agreed, "but what about doing something for
you? Isn't there anything you want?"

          Jordan rested back into Taylor's chest. "Everything I'll ever want
or need is sitting beneath me." They shared a glorious kiss, then stared at
the rocking water for a few minutes.

          "I lied," Jordan said suddenly, worrying Taylor. "There is
something I want. I want you to help me convince your mother that she should
date Denton."

          Taylor laughed uproariously. "Those two have had a thing for each
other for years. Old Denton finally wants to get off his ass and do
something about it, eh?"

          Jordan frowned. "If this has been going on that long, how come
you've never tried to help her move things forward?"

          Taylor looked at him like he was from another planet. "This is my
mother we're talking about. You want to tangle with Lila?"

          Jordan brushed off the comment. "Come on, Taylor! She's just a
woman. What could it hurt to try and do a little matchmaking?"

          Taylor gave him another weird look. "Oh my poor sweet baby! I
won't stand in your way, but I won't help either. You're dealing with a
shark, fairly harmless until taunted, then watch out! Give it your best
shot, but don't say I didn't warn you!"

          "Don't be too upset when I create a love match," Jordan boasted.

          "Awfully confident! I like that. Bet you a blow job she tears you
up before you get rolling," Taylor said.

          "Deal," Jordan replied, turning to shake his man's hand. With the
wager set, they returned to staring at the sparkling water.

          "Maybe I should lose on purpose," Taylor mumbled.

          Jordan cracked up. "Not a chance, mister. A bet's a bet, and no
interfering either."

          "You have my word!" Taylor said, crossing his heart.

          This time they really did go back to watching the water, enjoying
each others company. They stayed like this until nearly sunset, then
returned to the disarray that was their home. Since the upstairs was
undamaged, they chose to get ready there for dinner with Denton and the
gang. Because they stayed on the sea wall so long, their preparation time
was greatly curtailed. The shower was an in and out deal, all business.
Getting dressed was hurried too. Being the men they were, though, their rush
left plenty of time to dally with their hair, fussing with it until not a
single strand was out of place. Clad in long sleeve, button down shirts,
khaki slacks and loafers, they left their room and went downstairs where
Micah waited on them.

          "You two better get a move on! Don't want to keep Mr. Tolliver
waiting!" he ribbed.

          "Yeah, yeah. Beauty this fierce takes time and can't be rushed,"
Jordan tossed back with a dismissive wave of his hand.

          Taylor and Micah looked at each other and chortled. It was nice to
see someone who'd endured so much show signs of life. They got into the back
of the car and waited until their protector took his seat up front. With
everyone set, the vehicle moved off, speeding to get the men to dinner on
time.

          Jordan got a forlorn look on his face as they drove on.

          "What's the matter baby?" Taylor asked while putting his arm
around the suddenly sullen man.

          "I miss being driven by Leonard and Carl," he replied sadly.

          "I know, baby," Taylor sympathized. "Everyone deserves a vacation,
though. Micah thought it was best to send them somewhere safer anyway."

          "He was right, I know, but I really miss them. I hope they come
back soon."

          "They're back next week, babe," Taylor promised. "Micah's gonna
see that their well cared for and make sure that our family is never
separated again."

          Jordan considered the word 'family.' It was the perfect word for
what all of them were.

          His sadness was cut off by his ringing cell phone. The "Me So
Horny" ring tone identified that caller as his younger brother. "Petey!" he
exclaimed excitedly as he answered.

          "Sweetie Petey!" Jordan announced. "How the hell are ya?"

          "Hey, Jordan," he said sadly. "I know you've been dealing with a
lot lately, but I'm in big trouble and need your help...."


			      TO BE CONTINUED