Axel Wulf: A Romance Crime Action Thriller

Chapter 2

Lochlan

My handler, Slate, sets his laptop down on the conference room table and sits while I stare over his shoulder. Images of a seafood bar with ice sculptures pop onto his small screen then jump to the back wall when he plugs in the projector.

“C’mon now, mate. You sure you don’t have any other work?” Guarding rich old birds is my least favorite pastime and Slate knows this.

“The food will be top notch. All you have to do is keep an eye on a pair of earrings.” If I didn’t know the bloke so well, I’d think he was serious.

“There’s filet mignon, New England clam chowder, and check this out.” He clicks through a slideshow filled with delicious image after image.

“That’s not fair, I haven’t eaten.” My stomach growls and for the first time, the job in Boston seems possible.

If only I didn’t have to pretend to be a fookin’ Englishman. “Why can’t I just be Lucky from down und-ah? You Yanks love me accent.”

“You want the job or not?”

Thinking, I wander to the window where below, a tugboat pushes a barge on the Hudson River. Shit. I could use the money and if I do well, maybe, I’ll ask for a raise. If this view is any indication, Patten Securities is moving up the food chain.

I remember when me and Slate had nothing more than a tent, a backpack, and a shitload of sand between us. It’s loyalty that makes up my mind, not the money and not the buffet. If my friend is asking, there must be a reason.

Decided, I sit and get down to business. “Nah, yeah. Tell me about the job. I got nothing else pressin’. Might as well go to Boston.”

He opens up a few more files and projects them onto the back wall. “You’re going to guard Ms. Calliope Bradford-Clarke at a fundraiser.”

“What’s the charity? Saving children saddled with horrible first names?”

He grins and opens a Facebook page. “Are you going to let me continue or keep making bad jokes?”

“Hey, I’m listenin’. You want me to guard some old bird wearing a few mill’ in jewels. Is that about it?”

“Almost.” He clicks and I gasp as the headshot of an incredibly gorgeous woman projects onto the back wall.

Holy fook. Her big blue eyes stare straight out and grab my cock. She’s got this messy, blunt-cut, short blond hair. And her smile? You’d swear she was about to blow you. With no goo on her lips, cheeks, or eyelashes, I might call her a girl-next-door but that would be wrong, too. Bloody hell, she’s all woman.

While my pal chuckles at my discomfort, I swallow hard and tell my little brain to stand down. “Good one, eh?”

“Her mother, Penelope, is signing the check. Calliope is the one you’ll be guarding.”

I’m a bodyguard and a former Marine. Surely, I can resist some pretty sheila for one night. Leaning my butt against the windowsill, I try to appear uninterested as I cross my arms over my chest. “So, is she a model or what?”

“A college student, getting her doctorate at Massachusetts Institute of Technology.”

“Fook me.” Beautiful and intelligent? This assignment just got a lot harder along with my willie inside my jeans.

Slate grins like a dingo with roadkill. He stands, walks next to me and stares down at the tiny cars in New York City traffic.

Offhandedly, he says, “There’s one other small thing you need to know.”

“What? She married?” My discomfort lessens. We got rules.

“She’s single but way too distracted, my friend. Last night, her apartment was broken into, her state-of-the-art safe opened, and she’s not even sure if she left her apartment unlocked.”

“So, they got the earrings?”

“No. She keeps them nearby in a safety deposit box.” Slate’s brows raise, waiting for me to get the implication.

“I hear you, mate. If someone was smart enough to know she had a wall safe, and smart enough to crack it open, stands to reason they’d be smart enough to know she stashed her earrings at the bank. Do you suppose it was a trial run and they’ll try again later?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He shakes his head back and forth. “But I don’t like it.”

“I got a suggestion, why don’t these rich toffs make replicas and have her wear those to the party?”

“I asked Patten the same thing. Apparently, the jewels are sixteenth century and people pay big bucks to see them.” He reaches for his mouse and two pearl-drop earrings appear on the wall. Each has a large red ruby wrapped in thin gold strands.

“Can’t you hand this off to some other bloke?”

“I would but none of them has your particular… charm.” He chokes on his coffee, smiles like a Cheshire cat, and composes himself by staring out the window.

“Do I need to beat it out of you? What aren’t you telling me?” Maybe she’s snooty, obnoxious, and bloody difficult to deal with.

His eyes water from holding in his laugh. “It’s a costume party and you’re expected to act as her date.”

“That’s perfect.”

It’s bad enough to attend one of these affairs in dark sunglasses, an earbud, and aloof as the secret service. To actually make insipid conversation with the filthy rich? I’d rather have a wisdom tooth pulled, maybe two.

“Fine, but I want combat pay.” My growls stop abruptly when he shows me the check from Mrs. Penelope Bradford-Clarke.

“Blow me? For one night?”

“Thank you, but no.” He chuckles.

“Bugger off.”

“One more thing. Our client has a lot of influence in New England. You make her happy and it could mean a lot more work for more of our guys.”

That cut deep. He knows I’d walk over hot coals to help out.

Covering my imaginary virgin breasts, I say in my highest falsetto, “I feel so dirty, so used. Will you still respect me in the morning, luv?”

He plants a fucking kiss on my cheek which I immediately wipe off and he laughs all the harder.

“Get the fuck out of my office, Lucky. I’ll email you with the details and tell that fucking appendage of yours to stand down until after the job.”

With a grin, I whistle tunelessly and peek in at Grayson who’s got his door open with a phone to his ear. I give him a thumbs up and he returns it.

Despite giving Slate a hard time, I’d give my life for these guys. Patten Securities gives military men and women a chance to make a few bucks while on leave. Even SEALS, just starting out have a hard time, especially if they pick up a wife and a baby along the way.

“Bye luv.” I kiss Gilly, Patten’s receptionist on the top of her head.

Face red, she yells back, “When we going out? I’ve been practicing.”

“I don’t know… last time you nearly killed me.” I rub my arm where she let go a wild dart and the lovely eighteen-year-old sticks out her tongue.

“No bars while I’m gone.” I give her my stink eye until she rolls her eyes. New York City is no place for an almost grown woman without a chaperone.

“I promise.” She crosses her heart with her index finger.

“I’ll be checking.” I never had a little sister but if I did, I’d want someone like me watching out for her.

Shaking my head, I head to the elevator and outside, hail a cab to the airport. In the long security line, I text the woman with the beautiful eyes.

Me: Patten Securities gave me your number. Can I call u?

Calli: Yes. TY. Give me five.