Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) (2 page)

Chapter
Two

Present
Day

Kestrel

“You’re
sure about this?” Gabby asks.

Turning
around, I face my sister-in-law and smile. It’s difficult because what I’d like
to do is scream. Instead, I grit my teeth, take a deep breath, and then say,
“Gabby, I’m a grown man. If anyone knows, I do.”

“You
know what I mean.”

Yes,
I do. My well-meaning sister-in-law is worried about me.
And
rightly so.
She knows how fucked up my past is. She’s also a
psychiatrist, so it’s ingrained in her.

“I
appreciate your concern. I really do. But I spent over two
months—alone—hiking the Appalachian Trail. Were you worried about
me then?”

She
punches me in the shoulder. Not hard, but enough to get my attention.

“I
was worried to death. Ask Kolson.”

“Ask
me what?” my brother asks as he enters the kitchen where Gabby and I are
standing.

“Wasn’t
I worried about Kestrel when he was on that crazy backpacking trip?”

“Aw,
hell, don’t even get her started. What brought all this up?”

I
give Kolson the eye.

“Not
this again? I thought we’ve been through all this,” Kolson says as he grabs his
wife around the waist.

“Dozens
of times,” I say.

“Yeah,
but I can’t help it.”

“Listen
to me, Gabby. I’m as good as I’m ever
gonna
be. I’ll
always be slightly fucked up. How can I not be after what our father did?”

Kolson
and Gabby both nod.

“Dr.
Hart, put your psychiatrist hat on and listen. I can still be fucked up and
function perfectly fine. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Okay,
I’ll grant you that. And you’re right. Any one of the things Langston did to
you—the cages, withholding contact, keeping you in the dark—would
be enough to traumatize you. Add them all up and it would be difficult not to be
a little fucked up.”

“Gabriella,
look at me. You know how I am and I deal with it just fine,” Kolson says.

“True,
but you have me to talk to. I worry that when Kestrel leaves, he won’t have
anyone.”

I
throw my arms up in the air. “Hello. This is the twenty-first century. Have you
heard of cell phones and Face Time? I have your number.”

Kolson
laughs. “She’s stubborn, bro.”

“I
am aware, believe me. I’ve sat on the proverbial couch in that office of hers,
though I questioned my judgment frequently.”

“Hey!
What does that mean?”

“What
it means, dear sister, is that if you had your way, you would lock me in your
apartment and never let me out of your sight.”

Gabby
actually has the good grace to blush.

“Aha!
I’m right!”

She
looks at Kolson and he says, “Don’t get me in the middle of this one. Sorry.”

“Okay,
so I’m overprotective.”

“Now
that we have your admission, can we move forward?”

She
nods.

“Excellent.
So, I’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow. Kolson, my temporary residence will
be that executive apartment your real estate agent found me, but in the mean
time I want to look for something to buy. Even if I end up hating Charleston,
which I doubt I will, it would be a great investment.”

My
brother is in total agreement with me. I’m moving to Charleston, South Carolina
to open up the southern branch of Hart Transportation Services, or HTS, the
company my brother started. The headquarters are here in Manhattan, but Kolson
thinks we need to expand the business. I worked for our father, Langston, in
the casino business until last December. That ended when my father was
tragically (or not) killed by my mother to prevent him from shooting Gabby.
Suffice it to say my father was an evil man. Kolson left the family business
years ago, but I stayed on for various reasons, mainly sick ones.

Things
unraveled after his death and we found out he was involved in all sorts of
illegal things—human trafficking, for instance. We knew he was tied to
the mob, but we didn’t know the extent of his activities. The FBI dismantled
his casino business, Hart Entertainment, and I went to work for my brother
after that.

Gabby
suddenly throws her arms around me, catching me off guard. I have this thing
about touch. Long story. Her weight sends me backward and we both start to
tumble. Kolson sees what’s happening and his quick reflexes save his wife, but
I end up busting my ass on the marble floor in the kitchen.

“Jesus,
Gabby. What the hell was that all about?”

Her
sheepish face tells me all I need to know. My ass is going to be purple by tomorrow.

Kolson
only laughs.

I
just shake my head.

“I’m
sorry. I just wanted to hug you. I’ll miss you.”

My
head clangs as Kolson helps me up. If I knew moving to Charleston was going to
be this much of a pain in the ass, I would’ve thought twice about it. She means
well and I do love her, but sometimes, she drives me fucknuts.

By
the look on her face, if I don’t say something, she’ll be in tears. “Of all the
people I know, I’ll miss you the most.” I spread my arms out and she steps into
my embrace. “You’ve helped me more than anyone I’ve ever known, even Kolson.
And that’s saying a lot, Gabby. Thank you.” And that is the truth.

“If
you need me …”

“I’ll
call. Don’t worry. And as soon as I have a house, I want you two to come down.”

Gabby
claps her hands and says, “Maybe we should go with him this week. You know, to
help him settle in.

Kolson
and I say at the same time, “No!”

She
gets the message.

“Damn,
Gabriella, you’re like a mother hen. He’s fine.”

***

It’s
a gorgeous September afternoon when I step off the private jet. A car meets me
on the tarmac and shuttles me to my new office. It’s near the Charleston
International Airport, in North Charleston, so the ride is brief. We selected
that location to be near the airport and for the land. It’ll be easier for us
to have all of our vehicles in one location. Right now, we are bidding for a
large chunk of acreage about two miles from here. If our bid is accepted, we’re
going to add a large charter jet to accompany our smaller craft. Right now we
only use corporate jets. With Charleston’s proximity to Atlanta and Charlotte,
we’re in a prime location to secure a variety of business that is untapped thus
far.

It’s
almost three-thirty when I get to the office. My secretary, Shayla Drummond,
greets me as I enter.

“Welcome,
Mr. Hart.”

“Shayla.
Nice to see you.”

The
office was set up during my previous visits. Currently, we are running on a
staff of four employees. The rest will be hired as new business starts coming
in. Jack, Kolson’s right-hand man, has been sending his team out after Kolson
has vetted prospective clients. We’re looking at bringing on the Atlanta
Falcons, Carolina Panthers, Atlanta Braves, and some smaller businesses. There
are some Charleston companies I’ll start researching, but my main goal is to
get this office operating as a fully functional business entity.

“Shayla,
when does the new receptionist start?”

“Monday,
sir.”

“Good.
Can you bring me up to speed on everything?”

She
follows me into my office. Shayla is in her late forties, married, and has two
kids in college. She’s been an executive assistant for over fifteen years and
knows the ropes. I hired her because she won’t mind working long hours and
wants the money. I’ll compensate her well for it, too. Looking around my
office, I see that she has set everything up to my specifications. The last
time we spoke I gave her explicit instructions for where I wanted everything
placed. I’m particular about these things, so I’m pleased with the results.

“Coffee,
water, anything to drink, sir?”

“Coffee,
please, and dispense with the sir. Let’s drop the formalities. Call me Kestrel
since we’re going to be working together every day.”

She
peruses me for a moment,
then
gives me a brief nod.

“Cream,
sir?”

“Black.”

She
hands me the coffee and I take a sip. It’s disgusting.

“Don’t
be offended, but this is shit coffee.”

Her
eyes widen a bit.

Standing,
I ask, “Where’s the brew station?” My intentions are to make a better cup of
java than this crap she handed me.

“Brew
station?”

“You
know, the coffee station.”

“Um,
we don’t have one.”

“Then
how did you make this?”

“It’s
instant, sir.”

“Kestrel.”

“Kestrel.
Sir.”

I
scratch my forehead and extend my arm toward the chair. “Please sit.”

Shayla
takes a seat.

“So,
we don’t have a coffee pot, huh?” I ask as I lean on my desk. I don’t stay
there but a second because the bruises on my ass sting. My hand automatically
reaches behind me to rub them but I stop when I see Shayla curiously watching me.

“No,
sir.”

“Kestrel.”

“Kestrel,
sir.”

“Shayla,
do you have an issue calling me Kestrel?”

“No,
sir.”

“Then
why do you keep saying, ‘sir’?”

A
huge grin spreads across her plump face and in her lovely Southern accent she
says, “Why, it’s the way I was raised, sir. It’s a southern thing.”

“So,
it’s not something you’re saying because you’re uncomfortable?”

“Why,
no, sir!” she says so emphatically, I fear I may have insulted the poor woman.

“Shayla,
are you more comfortable saying sir than you are saying Kestrel?”

“Well,
I’m comfortable with both, sir.”

“All
right then. Now, we’re going to have to do something about that shit coffee
though.”

And
Shayla lets out a belly laugh.

After
we review the most important items on the agenda, she tells me where I can find
a Target.

“Shayla,
I’ve never set foot in a Target. Will they deliver?”

Her
brows pop up to her hairline. Then she laughs and laughs some more.

“Are
all you New Yorkers like this?”

I
rub my chin. “Probably not. I’m a little odd.”

“Hmm.
Tell you what. I’ll pick up a coffee pot on the way home. What kind should I
get?”

“The
best kind they have. I’m particular about my coffee. And can you pick up some
good coffee too? I like to grind my own beans.”

She
shakes her head and mumbles, “Well I’ll be.”

“I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

“Good
night, sir.”

It’s
going to take a little bit for me to get used to this “sir” thing. It makes me
feel like my asshole of a father. He always insisted everyone call him sir. My
cell rings, interrupting my thoughts.

“Kolson.
I was getting ready to call you.”

“How
is everything?”

“Other
than Shayla tried to poison me, I’m fine.”

“Poison
you?”

“She
fed me instant coffee.”

My
brother breaks out in a roar of laughter. “Oh, hell. Wait until I tell
Gabriella.”

“No!
Don’t tell Gabby. She’ll get your pilot to fly her down here to try and save
me. And don’t tell her my ass is killing me. The damn thing is purple from
where she knocked me over the other day. Your wife is a menace.”

“Shall
I hire you a nurse?”

“Only
if she’s a black-haired beauty with huge …”

“Hey!”
he protests.

“You
asked.”

“I
suppose I deserve that. So how’s the office?”

“Good.
Shayla is well organized and if I can get her to stop calling me sir, we’ll do
fine together.”

“Sir,
huh?”

“Yeah,
and I hate it. Reminds me of Langston, that fucker.”

“Truth.
So, there’s this huge software company you need to get on. And Jack will be
down next week to move on some things,” Kolson says.

“Right,
but I need to get the staff up and running. I need at least three more people
to get this place functional.”

“Whatever
you need, Kestrel. I’ll be down to hopefully close out the land deal in the
next month. If all goes as planned, the rest of the building will be opened up
and will have over a hundred on staff by the end of next year.”

“Good.
I honestly don’t see anything stopping us. We won’t be stepping on anyone’s
toes. The smaller companies don’t want what we want—they can’t handle it.
And the large corporations have to outsource it all anyway. There isn’t another
company down here that offers the complete package like we do.”