Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One), Nathan Hystad [primary phonics books .TXT] 📗

backwards. “That was awesome. Remind me to go on these trips with you more often, Rex.”

Tires screeched as a black luxury sedan slid to a halt, nearly striking Marcus as he stepped into the middle of the back alley. He patted himself on the legs, then his chest, and moved toward me without saying a word.

The tinted rear window slid down, revealing an older man in an expensive suit. “I was wondering when you’d show up. Hop in.”

I groaned as I recognized his face. “Marcus, meet Hunter Madison, the billionaire.”

____________

Marcus was asked to occupy the front seat with the driver, and Hunter motioned me into the back-passenger side. “What are the odds?” I asked him, but of course, he offered no reasoning to how he’d conveniently found us in an alley behind Brian Hardy’s complex.

“Mr. Walker, it’s been a long time.” He stuck his hand out, but I ignored it.

“Cut the crap, Madison. I want to know what you’re up to right this instant.” I gave him my best stare-down, but the gray-bearded man didn’t flinch.

“I want the same things as you, Mr. Walker.”

Lavish cologne clung to the man like a cape, and I rolled my window down, feeling suffocated. “And what’s that?”

“The truth. You refused to accept my assistance before, but now… I have something you’re going to be interested in.” His green eyes crinkled as he showcased a veneered smile.

“Come on, Marcus. That’s our cue to leave.” I tested the door, finding it locked. “Driver. Unlock the doors. We’re going to the hotel.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of checking you out already. Your luggage is in the trunk.” He jabbed a thumb behind him.

Before I could think, I had his collar firm in my grip. “What do you have? And don’t play games.” I knew Hunter Madison had funded my father’s ventures, and that my mother had hated the man, and it was enough for me to blame him for Dad’s disappearance. When I’d come knocking twenty years ago, he’d claimed to know nothing about it. Of course, a decade later, after I’d begun my own investigating, he’d found me, offered me money to continue the mission Dirk and Clay had begun.

To the old man’s credit, he remained calm as he lifted his hands in the air. “Mr. Walker, we’re professionals. Let’s act like it.”

I released him, the fury burning away from me like gasoline with a flame. “How could you even check us out?” I heard someone shout, and I saw Darrel exiting the building, anger in his eyes. “Before you answer that, drive!”

The car sped up, racing through the alley, and turned onto Central Park West, heading north.

“I own the corporation that retains your little hotel. Nice spot. Very budget friendly.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he made the dig.

“Driver, pull over. Let us out.” I tested the door handle again as he drove, but it remained locked.

“Mr. Walker, all I ask is for a few hours of your time. You two can stay at my house for the night, and then make up your minds.” I noticed how he used the plural version, and Marcus craned his neck around from the front seat.

“Rex, this could be our lead, and you’ve been grasping at straws. If he knows something about this whole thing, we should talk to him. It’s worth a shot,” Marcus told me.

I didn’t see a way out, and I hated that Marcus was right. After hearing Hardy recall being part of my dad’s team, and the mysterious Bridge, I had to know more. I’d never be able to return home and pretend this information hadn’t found my ears. I owed it to my family and to myself to discover just what had happened to Dirk Walker.

“Fine. But don’t get any ideas, Madison. This is a conversation, not a contract. I know how your type operates.”

He fixed his ruffled collar and jutted his hand out again. This time, I relented and shook it.

“Alberto. Take us home.” Hunter Madison smiled as classical music softly played through the car’s speakers.

The conversation remained civil for the duration of the trip, but when Marcus or I asked the billionaire anything relating to my goals or his association with my father, he changed the subject, refusing to answer until we were in his study. I noticed him checking behind the car more than once, and wondered if he had any issues with being tailed, or if it was a natural instinct to look over your shoulder when you were so wealthy.

“Any stock tips?” Marcus asked as the car hit a freeway, the Manhattan bridges far behind us. I had an idea where he was taking us, though I’d never been this far east on Long Island.

Hunter Madison actually laughed and nodded. “Kid, you team up with me, and you won’t have to stay in my crappy hotels ever again.”

“I’m listening,” Marcus said.

“Where are we going?” I asked, slightly annoyed. We’d already been in the car for over an hour, and I had to use the bathroom.

“Take a guess,” Madison said.

Marcus waited a second before answering. “East Hampton. You have one of the largest ocean-front properties in the area, not to mention that behemoth of a yacht in the marina. Do you think we could go for a ride?”

I didn’t know how he knew this, but since Marcus loved doing research, I was sure there was a lot of public information on the rich man accessible from online magazines alone.

“Bingo. Mr. Walker, it seems you’ve found a good one here.”

“I taught him in his local college before he was smart enough to realize there was no money in anthropology.”

“Isn’t there?” Madison asked. “I know all about you, Marcus Wells. Parents live in Sarasota, Florida. Dad works maintenance for the school division, Mom checks out books at the local library. You aced every test in your senior year. Scholarships to any institution, but given your slightly disappointing SAT scores, you ended up in Boston, at Dr. Rex Walker’s school. Stayed