Kiss Away the Hurt
by Mary Ann Shaw

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

Recharged with the energy to fight for his life and his sense of peace Tristan Macdonald fought the noisy, pushy and fast-paced crowd to reach his destination. Entering the revolving door, he stepped inside the Towner Building, and left the sweltering blast of mid-June city heat behind.

He took the elevator to the top floor, and within minutes, he stood inside an elaborately furnished office. Quickly, he estimated the age of the man sitting behind the clean and paper-free desk to be in his mid-eighties. Believing he had blundered into the wrong office, he wanted to make a hurried departure, but before he could make a quick apology, the man rose.

Introducing himself with a ceremonial handshake, Steven wasted no time and gestured toward a chair with his short muscular arm.

Although wearing the typical executive’s attire, he reminded Tristan of a retired stocky Marine Drill Sergeant who saw pleasantries as a way to pacify a baby sucking on his mother’s breast.

Tristan settled his large frame into the wide and soft-cushioned chair. He looked at Steven across the wide expanse of the desk.

The man leaned back in his seat, and scrutinized his bearded face. Those observing eyes saw his tension as they peered beneath the brush masking his countenance.

Self-conscious, he would have given anything to know what Steven saw while staring at him, almost to the point of rudeness.

“I understand you are having some difficulties and require my service.”

Steven broke the tense silence and dissolved Tristan’s nervousness. Everything bottled up inside gushed out with the gravity of his hopeless situation. Yet, as he spilled his guts, the older man remained impassive, studying his face, as though sizing him up.

After he finished, they discussed the information endlessly, or so it seemed to Tristan. In his limited business experience, he learned never to presume the person he confronted would approve of his prepared proposal without weighing the pros and cons before committing himself. But he couldn’t fail. Failure meant the loss of the only thing he had to love and nurture – his land. The land his grandfather should have given him upon his death.

“You’re hired,” Steven said at last.

“You’ll do it – I’m hired.” Tristan hesitated, baffled. He tried weighing the whole structure of events and was still just as confused. “I thought I was hiring you. I don’t understand.”

“Sorry for the confusion. Let me put it to you this way. You wouldn’t like the fee I charge for my service. So I work for you and you work for me in return for my service.”

“All right . . . sure . . . anything to get back what belongs to me. I can start right now.”

“I’ll need forty-eight hours on this,” Steven replied.

In spite of the coolness of the office, perspiration dampened Tristan’s face. His suit jacket clung to his sweaty shirt, and he forced himself not to rip off the tie constricting his breathing. “Why so long? I assure you, the information I gave you is accurate.”

“I’m not calling you a liar, Mr. Macdonald.” Those eyes, remaining steady and calm, stayed locked upon his face. “Forty-eight hours is the best I can do.”

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