Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) by Nathan Hystad (ereader iphone .TXT) 📕

the full four years, despite having the grades to transfer elsewhere. You two must have really hit it off.”

The car went silent. The only noise was the humming of the tires treading down the interstate. “You’re not the only one who does his research, I’m afraid.” Hunter stared at Marcus, and my sidekick started laughing.

“Good one, Hunter. I think I’m going to like you.”

I shook my head. Water off a duck’s back with this kid. “He got part of it wrong, though, didn’t he?” I asked.

“I’ll say.” Marcus laughed.

Hunter lifted an eyebrow, curious what he could possibly have overlooked. “What is it?”

“He finished his degree in three years.” The fact that Hunter Madison had missed something was enough to make me feel like we were on even ground again, and I took solace in that fact as we veered off the highway, merging onto an exit. The driver slowed, and the scent of the salty ocean hit my nostrils. We were close to the shore.

“Rex, do you see the size of these places?” Marcus gawked at the mansions as we drove past the massive lots. Some were extremely private, with huge fences and trees lining the road; others presented enormous pools and well-manicured lawns. All were far beyond any kind of wealth I could ever aspire to.

“Friends of yours?” I asked Hunter, and he grinned.

“I think you’ll find that most of these people don’t have friends, Rex. They have allies, business partners, and acquaintances, but rarely friends.” The billionaire lost his smile as he said this, and I wondered how true a statement it was.

“And you?”

Hunter didn’t answer as the driver came to a stop a few houses down. I watched as the dark iron fence slowly swung inward, and a moment later, we were entering Madison’s estate.

We waited while the fence closed behind us, sealing us in, and the second it clicked shut, my heart pounded harder in my chest. There was a sense of finality to the action, as if my life had changed as the latch connected.

“This is insane.” Marcus had his window open, and I appreciated his excitement but wished he’d rein it in a little bit. Hunter didn’t seem to mind; he just smiled as Marcus asked him about the house and its lineage.

“This house was built in 1919 by an architect who intended on staying. His wife fell ill five years later, and when the market crashed in the twenties, he lost the home and his love in the same year. But in that tragedy, the next owner named the gardens after her, and I kept the dedication when I purchased it.” The car went past the most opulent flower garden I’d ever seen, and I noticed the sign. “Lily’s” was painted in a light green on an old white sign, likely restored many times over the years. “I’ve lived here for thirty years… on and off.”

It had the charm of the region, with shutters and cedar shingles, but the sheer size of the mansion was off-putting. I couldn’t imagine living somewhere like this, so far from anything and anyone.

“If you ever need a house sitter…” Marcus climbed out of the car, and I rolled my eyes at him. “What? I’m good for it.”

The rounded driveway ran directly by the house’s main entrance, and I glanced up the three steps, past the two pillars that braced the awning over the front porch. Potted plants stood in perfect symmetry on either edge of the stairs, and it was obvious that Hunter liked everything neat and in its place. It was something we had in common.

“Come on in.” Hunter waved at the car, dismissing Alberto, and he drove off, disappearing around the house.

The door opened, and a man in a dark navy suit greeted his boss. His hair was slicked back, his expression grim.

“Gentlemen, this is Francois. If you need anything, just ask. Your bags will be brought to your rooms.”

The front door closed, and I stared around the luxurious foyer, wondering what I’d gotten us into.

7

It was far too early for a drink, but when Francois offered after bringing Hunter three fingers of Scotch, I nodded, accepting the tumbler of amber liquid. Marcus took one too, glancing at me with doubt in his eyes. As far as I knew, he’d never drank Scotch, and before I could tell him to sip it, he’d downed the contents. Hunter was considerate enough to pretend not to notice Marcus coughing, his eyes watering.

When the billionaire raised his glass, I did the same, sipping from mine. It was smooth and full. The bottle probably cost more than my entire bank account currently held.

“How did you find us?” I asked.

“There’ll be time for that later,” Hunter said, mischief in his eyes.

“You said once we were in your study…” I glanced around, admiring the man’s taste. He had an assortment of fine pieces from around the world, adorned and showcased from stunning dark wood shelves. I thought it might be African blackwood, but couldn’t be sure.

The lights were dim, and we sat in the softest leather chairs I’d ever parked on, with a round table complete with a crystal ashtray centering it. An envelope sat precariously on the edge of the table, closer to Madison than to me, and he must have noticed my inquisitive stare.

“What is it that gets you up in the mornings?” Hunter Madison asked, his voice low and growly. He took a long sip of his Scotch and sat back, crossing his left leg over his right. His free hand fidgeted, playing with a thick white-gold ring on his pointer finger.

The question was a little esoteric for me. “Are you going to ask me what my sign is next?”

He set his glass on the table and leaned closer to me. “Rex. You have an opportunity. You wouldn’t have come to see Hardy after all these years if you hadn’t learned something new. What is it?”

I fought the urge to stand up and walk away. Fire