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Owen claps me on the shoulder. "Chuck said you liked bourbon. Let's sit."
I nod and sink back into the leather chair that I started the night out in. "Thanks."
It's a hell of a place for an interview, right in the grand lobby of his lodge at the entrance to his gala. Brocker gestures a hello to several friends and partygoers who pass. The guests’ eyes quickly fall on me, and I get several curious looks. People are clearly intrigued to see their host walk in and have a sit-down with someone like me.
Owen sets his glass down on a side table and levels me with a look that’s all business. "Mack, I'm sure you're a man who appreciates straightforwardness, so I'll get right to the point. You have a unique set of skills that I need."
I nod. "How so?"
"I’m starting a new fire department. The one in downtown Frost Forest, if you want to call it that, is small, dated, and stretched thin for volunteer firemen. We’ve lost three homes and a historic building in the last six months because of a lack of manpower and faulty equipment. It’s sad and unnecessary, but the surrounding areas are simply too far away to respond to calls for help."
A shocking spike of adrenaline courses through my veins at the idea of starting a new fire unit. It’s been a few years since I fought fires full-time, but it was the first line of work Ryker, Tyson, Matt, and I got into once we returned home from overseas.
I nod. "That’s understandable. This town is pretty remote. A small town in a large swath of woods, fire is your worst enemy."
"Exactly." Brocker picks up his drink. "I quickly realized that if I wanted fire protection and security, I’d have to provide my own."
"Okay. What’s the job?"
"My new investment property and surrounding area here in Frost Forest, about five square miles." Brocker sits back in his leather chair and looks out over the growing throng of people. "It's called Golden Meadow and is slated to be a premiere equine community with high-end horse facilities and maintained trails."
"The wealthy do love their horses."
Brocker chuckles. "They do. You'd be protecting the new homes and investment properties of most of the people at this party. There's a growing interest in the untapped resources of Frost Forest, and since I built Brocker Lodge here five years ago, many consider me as the new founding father of bringing back life and prosperity."
He reaches for another sip of bourbon. "Their words, not mine. That silly nickname has painted a target on my back."
Brocker’s potentially sitting on a gold mine—if he can protect it.
"Clear Creek to the east is already established and getting more crowded and expensive by the day. Frost Forest is the huge hidden gem between Clear Creek and Bloomsbury, the college town about a fifteen-minute drive from here."
I fold my arms over my chest. "Let me guess: Some of the original Frost Forest townsfolk don't like the idea of your kind moving in on their territory."
Owen shrugs. "Most do, but you're right: Some certainly don't want to see their town change. You may need to use your military skills to guard my ground if the bastards from the old Weller farm continue sabotaging my sites and setting my materials on fire. Jesus, I’m having to add new amenities to the place just to keep the marketing going My last idea was to dredge a damn pond to showcase fishing now."
I lock gazes with Brocker. Exasperation and frustration is written clearly across his wrinkled forehead and pinched brows. This is a more intense case than I thought. If someone is sabotaging Brocker’s sites and burning up his materials, then he’s got a seriously disgruntled and dangerous neighbor. "I take it that you’ve made efforts to reach out to your neighbors."
Brocker’s lips curl. "I bought the property off the oldest Weller son, Marty. I found out after the fact that he sold me the land without consulting his two younger brothers, Roy and Lyle. Not that he needed to, their father left everything to Marty to split equitably."
He shakes his head and sighs. "It wouldn't have made a difference. A sale is a sale."
Brocker rubs a hand down the side of his jaw. "However, Roy and Lyle aren’t interested in staying on their side of the new fence. I hired a property manager who also has her real estate license. She’s a hell of a trooper, handling everything so far. A sales crew is pointless until at least one model home and stable is built to completion, and the Wellers keep slowing things down."
Damn, this place is turning into the Wild West. Brocker needs to figure out a security solution and fast.
"Meanwhile, the damage is adding up, and a couple of pissed-off locals have joined in with the Wellers." He locks eyes with me. "And the local cops sympathize with the bastards."
My mind buzzes with what steps need to be taken, what camera equipment bought and installed. "I’m not a one-man band; I’ve got my partners to consider."
Admiration flashes in his eyes. "I’ve read about the four horsemen, that you travel with your men from your days in the Special Forces. I was saddened to read about Matt’s accident. I’m sorry for your loss."
A bitter taste in my mouth returns at the mention of Matt, but I push past it quickly before grief and guilt set in. "Thank you. But you’re right. I still have Jon Ryker and Chris Tyson to consider. They were my brothers in arms, and now they’re my brothers in business, for better or worse."
He grins. "Senator Stamm mentioned that you’re trying to rebrand after an incident involving a congressman’s wife."
Annoyance frays the edges of my thoughts. Damn Stamm and his big mouth. "Yeah, something like that."
Brocker slaps me on the shoulder. "I’m the oldest of five brothers, and I’ve cleaned up a few messes in my day. And where one of us goes, we all go. So I knew by talking to you that I was going to be asking the three of you to join my team."
