Protecting Her (Honor Bound #5)

Chapter 5

5

JUDE

J ude moved through the gala venue's security sweep with mechanical precision, her body operating on training while her mind betrayed her with memories of last night. The historic ballroom's marble floors echoed beneath her boots as she checked sight lines and exit routes. Morning sun streamed through towering windows, creating shadows perfect for concealment—tactical concerns she should be focusing on instead of remembering how Carmen had felt and smelled and tasted.

"West entrance secured," Sarah reported through her earpiece. "Local security's running final checks on the guest list."

Jude acknowledged with a tap of her mic, studying the ornate columns that lined the ballroom. Each one could hide a threat, but her attention kept drifting to how they'd look with evening light streaming through the windows during tonight's gala. How Carmen would command the space in whatever she chose to wear, elegant and untouchable except for the memory of how she'd trembled under Jude's hands just hours ago.

Focus. She forced her mind back to security protocols, checking her weapon for the third time. They'd agreed it was just sex, just a release of tension that had been building since Washington. They had a job to do, and lives depended on their professional focus. But her body hummed with sensory memory: the silkiness of Carmen's skin, the way she'd arched into Jude's touch, how she'd whispered Jude's name like a plea.

"Personnel change at the service entrance," Kate's voice crackled through comms. "New waiter just checked in. Paperwork looks clean, but something feels off."

That caught Jude's full attention. She'd learned to trust her team's instincts. "Details?"

"Former military, according to his background check. Discharge dates match our intelligence about Nuevo Amanecer recruitment, but nothing concrete to flag him."

Jude moved to the service corridor, muscle memory taking over as she assessed angles and choke points. The waiter in question moved with too much precision, his casual stance carrying echoes of combat training that most wouldn't notice. But Jude had spent too many years in war zones to miss the signs.

"Track his movements," she ordered. "I want eyes on him at all times."

Her phone buzzed: a message from Carmen about final security arrangements. Just seeing her name on the screen made Jude's pulse jump, her professional demeanor cracking like ice in spring. She typed a brief response, all protocol and procedure, nothing betraying how her fingers remembered the curves of Carmen's body or how her lips still burned from their kisses.

The gala venue continued filling with staff: florists arranging centerpieces, audio technicians checking microphones, and security teams from various delegations establishing positions. Jude watched them all while calculating risk scenarios, trying to ignore how each evaluation included keeping Carmen safe not just because of duty, but because the thought of losing her had become personally unbearable.

"Multiple changes to local security rotations," Sarah reported. "They're swapping out previously vetted personnel."

Ice settled in Jude's stomach. She'd seen this pattern before, both in Yemen and Caracas. Small changes that seemed innocent until they added up to a big problem. "How many changes?"

"Seven so far. All in key positions."

Too many to be a coincidence. Jude moved through the space again, noting how the new security positions created subtle gaps in coverage. Most wouldn't see it; the pattern was only visible if you knew what to look for. Like the waiter's military bearing or the way certain radio frequencies carried extra static.

Her team had the venue locked down tight: Sarah coordinating ground teams, Kate monitoring surveillance feeds, Marcus tracking vehicle movements, and James ready with medical support. They'd run every drill, planned for every contingency. But experience had taught Jude that the worst attacks came when you started feeling safe and got complacent.

The ballroom's ancient mirrors caught her reflection as she completed another sweep. She looked the same as always: tactical gear, weapon at ready, every movement precisely controlled. Only her eyes betrayed the war between protecting Carmen and wanting her. The memory of last night rose unbidden: Carmen's silver-streaked hair catching moonlight, the strength in her hands turned to passion, the way she'd made Jude forget everything except the feel of her.

"Final security briefing in ten," David reminded the team through comms. "Delegate arrivals begin in two hours."

Jude acknowledged, forcing her focus back to the mission. She had a job to do, a peace summit to protect, and a diplomat whose life was more precious to her than protocol allowed. She couldn't let personal feelings compromise Carmen's safety. Even if those feelings had become as vital as breathing.

But as she watched staff transform the historic space for tonight's gala, Jude accepted a hard truth: keeping Carmen alive might be her duty, but keeping her distance had become impossible.

Evening transformed the ballroom as the chandeliers cast warm light across marble floors where Colombia's elite now mingled. Jude maintained her position near the dais, watching Carmen navigate diplomatic conversations with effortless grace. The silver streaks in her hair caught the light as she moved between delegations, and her midnight blue evening gown was a stark contrast to Jude's tactical gear. She looked so beautiful, Jude could barely tear her eyes away from her, but she knew how vital it was that her eyes were everywhere.

"Two more security rotation changes," Sarah murmured through comms. "That's nine total."

Jude tracked the suspicious waiter from earlier, noting how he kept drifting closer to Carmen's projected path toward the podium. His movements were too deliberate, each pass bringing him nearer while still appearing random to untrained eyes.

"Status check," she ordered quietly, thumb brushing her concealed weapon.

"East entrance clear," Marcus reported.

"Surveillance feeds normal," from Kate.

"Perimeter secure," James confirmed.

But something felt wrong. The waiter's jacket sat oddly on his right side, just off-kilter enough to be noticeable to Jude’s trained eyes. The local security teams had positioned themselves to create a blind spot near the stage. Even the usual radio chatter felt too quiet, like the silence before an ambush.

Carmen began moving toward the podium for her keynote address. The room shifted around her, delegates and observers repositioning themselves. Jude caught a subtle hand signal between two of the new security personnel—a gesture that didn't match standard Colombian protocols. Jude moved silently closer. Very close.

"Sarah, check the?—"

The waiter moved, one fluid motion that screamed military training, and he reached his hand inside his jacket. Time stretched infinite, each second longer than the previous, as Jude's body responded before conscious thought. She registered multiple details simultaneously: the metallic glint of a weapon, Carmen ascending the podium steps, the positions of her team, and the civilians in the kill zone.

Jude crossed the space in three steps, her combat instincts taking over. The waiter's hand emerged from his jacket with a matte-black pistol. She drove her shoulder into his sternum, redirecting the weapon's aim toward the ceiling as his finger tightened on the trigger and squeezed it. The gunshot cracked against marble, sending ripples of screams through the crowd.

But the waiter was well-trained. He rolled with her impact, using the momentum to create space between them. A knife appeared in his left hand— a standard special operations forces backup technique. Jude caught his wrist as the blade slashed toward her throat, feeling his tendons strain against her grip. She twisted, using his own forward momentum to break his balance.

They crashed into a table of champagne flutes. Glass shattered as Jude drove her knee into his solar plexus. The gun clattered away, but he maintained his grip on the knife. A precise slash forced her to release his wrist or lose her own.

Through her earpiece, she heard her team coordinating Carmen's evacuation while engaging multiple hostiles. The waiter had been a distraction for a larger assault team. But Jude's world had narrowed to the deadly dance between blade and body, each movement a calculated risk.

He struck again, the knife tracing patterns she recognized from close-quarters combat training. She blocked a thrust aimed at her ribs, metal scraping against her tactical vest. Her counter-strike caught him in the throat, disrupting his breathing for a few crucial seconds.

But he recovered faster than Jude had expected, and the blade flickered toward her face again. Jude felt it bite along her cheekbone as she twisted away. The pain sharpened her focus to crystalline clarity. She trapped his knife hand against a broken table, the bones cracking under precise pressure.

The blade dropped. He tried to turn it into a grapple, but Jude had already mapped his injuries. A strike to his damaged wrist, an elbow to his bruised ribs, and he folded like origami. She secured his hands with tactical restraints, noting the quality of his weapons and gear. Not cartel equipment; this was professional hardware.

"Threat contained," she reported, already moving toward Carmen's last position. "Status of the package?”

She had to know if Carmen was ok.

"Primary package secure," Sarah responded and Jude breathed a momentary sigh of relief. "Multiple hostiles engaged at east and west entrances. Extraction route compromised."

Fuck. We have to get her out of here.

Keep her safe.

Jude vaulted over an overturned table, scanning the chaos of fleeing guests and clashing security teams. Her tactical mind processed threats and assets: two more attackers by the entrance, local police responding with suspicious delay, multiple civilians in crossfire zones.

She found Carmen behind a marble column, Sarah shielding her while Marcus engaged hostiles near the service entrance. Their eyes met across the space, and Jude saw both diplomatic composure and carefully hidden fear in her eyes.

"Alternate extraction route," Jude ordered, reaching them as another gunshot cracked against stone. "Marcus, clear the kitchen. Sarah, rear guard. James, bring the vehicle to the service exit."

They moved as a unit, Carmen matching their pace without hesitation. Her evening gown whispered against marble as they navigated through service corridors, Jude with her body between Carmen and the threat. She was so close to her. Close enough to smell the memory of the previous night.

Focus, Jude!!

A burst of gunfire behind them confirmed Sarah engaging pursuers.

"Two targets neutralized," Sarah reported. "But police bands show multiple units converging. Response time's too fast. They had to know."

Jude guided them through the kitchen where Marcus had already subdued a hostile waiting in ambush. "Kate, status on follow vehicle?"

"Incoming. Thirty seconds. But satellite shows three unmarked cars approaching from the south."

The kitchen's service exit opened into a narrow alley. James waited with their armored BMW and kept the engine running. Jude did a final scan while Sarah and Marcus created a protective corridor to the vehicle.

"Clear!"

They moved fast, their practiced evacuation protocols executed with precision. Jude moved as one with Carmen, her body shielding Carmen as she held her close. She thrust Carmen into the back seat, throwing her own body on top of her. She heard the car door slammed behind them as more gunfire erupted from the rooftops all around them. Engine roaring, James accelerated away from the ambush zone.

“Are you ok, are you hurt?” Jude began to peel herself up from Carmen’s body, as much as she wanted to hold her close, it was far from appropriate now they were in an armoured vehicle.

“I’m fine,” Carmen’s voice had a slight shake to it, as the two of them began to sit up.

Only then did Jude allow herself to really breathe, to feel the sting of the knife wound on her cheek and the weight of how close they'd come to losing everything. Carmen's hand found hers in the darkness of the car, gripping with silent emotion that said more than words ever could.

They'd survived, but the attack's sophistication confirmed Jude's worst fears. Someone with extensive resources wanted Carmen dead. And they'd just proven they had the means to breach even the best security. It was very clear that the only people who could be trusted were Jude’s own tight team.

The armored BMW cut through Bogotá's narrow streets, James taking evasive maneuvers with practiced skill. Streetlights strobed across the tinted windows as they weaved through traffic, the engine's purr masking the tension inside the vehicle.

Jude spoke into her radio, "Status report?”

"Three hostiles neutralized at the venue," Sarah's voice crackled through comms. "Local police response was delayed but heavy. They're sweeping the building now."

"The waiter had military gear," Marcus added. "High-end equipment, American-made. This wasn't cartel hardware."

"Two vehicles following," Kate reported from their support car. "Black SUVs with diplomatic plates. Taking evasive action."

James took them down a series of progressively narrower alleys, the BMW's reinforced frame scraping against ancient stone walls. Carmen's hand found Jude's arm during a particularly sharp turn, her grip conveying more than just the need for balance.

"You're bleeding." Carmen's voice carried quiet concern as she reached toward the knife wound on Jude's cheek.

Jude caught her wrist before she could make contact, the gesture more gentle than she'd intended. "It's nothing. We need to?—"

"Incoming!" James called out as headlights flooded their vehicle from a cross-street.

The BMW swerved hard, tires screaming against cobblestones. Jude instinctively covered Carmen with her body as bullets sparked against the bullet-proof glass. The windshield held, but spiderweb cracks spread like frost across its surface.

"Multiple shooters," Sarah reported from the follow vehicle. "Taking them out."

Jude kept Carmen shielded while their convoy executed practiced escape maneuvers. Her body thrummed with adrenaline and awareness of every point where they touched. Carmen's perfume mixed with gunpowder residue from the firefight, an intoxicating combination that made Jude's head spin.

"Base team confirms that the hotel security is compromised." Kate's voice cut through the tension. "Proceeding to the fallback location."

They emerged onto wider streets where James could better maneuver. Carmen straightened in her seat but didn't move away from Jude's protective embrace. Their eyes met in the dim light, and Jude saw her own fear reflected in Carmen's gaze—not of death, but of losing each other.

"The waiter," Carmen said softly, her diplomatic mind already analyzing the attack. "He moved like Special Operations Forces."

Jude nodded, forcing herself to focus on security instead of how Carmen's pulse raced beneath her fingers. "American training. Probably ex-Delta or SEALs working in the private sector now."

"Like the contractors at the summit." Carmen's hand still rested on Jude's arm, her thumb making small circles that threatened Jude's concentration. "They're escalating faster than we had anticipated."

"Pursuers falling back," Sarah reported. "But police channels show roadblocks being established ahead."

James took them down a series of predetermined escape routes, each turn carrying them farther from the city center. Jude maintained radio contact with her team while monitoring Carmen's condition, noting the subtle signs of shock starting to set in despite her diplomatic composure.

"Here." Jude shrugged out of her protective vest, draping it over Carmen's shoulders. The move brought them closer in the vehicle's confined space, and Jude caught the slight hitch in Carmen's breathing.

"Always protecting me," Carmen murmured, her voice carrying layers of meaning that had nothing to do with security protocols.

"It's my job." But Jude's response lacked conviction as Carmen's fingers traced the knife wound on her cheek.

"Is that all it is?" The question echoed their conversation from the hotel terrace, loaded with everything they'd been trying to ignore.

Before Jude could respond, Kate's voice cut through their moment. "Another vehicle approaching fast. No plates visible."

The pursuit continued through Bogotá's labyrinth of streets, each near-miss bringing them closer together in the armored car's back seat. Jude coordinated with her team through pure training, her body and mind operating on separate frequencies. One tracked threats and escape routes while the other cataloged every subtle reaction from the woman beside her: the way Carmen's hand tightened on her arm during sharp turns, how she leaned into Jude's protection without hesitation, and the trust implicit in every shared glance.

"Clear route to fallback position," James finally reported as they turned onto a wider avenue. "No pursuit visible."

Only then did Jude allow herself to really feel the weight of what had almost happened. The knife wound on her cheek stung, grounding her in the reality of how close they'd come to losing everything. Carmen must have sensed the shift because her fingers found Jude's in the darkness, twining together with quiet desperation.

"I'm alright," Carmen whispered, answering the question Jude couldn't voice. "Thanks to you."

But they both knew it wasn't just about physical safety anymore. Something had changed in that ballroom in the moment Jude had seen the assassin reach for his weapon. Professional distance had crumbled in the face of possible loss, leaving them raw and exposed in ways no security protocol could protect against.

The city blurred past their windows as they headed for the fallback position, each mile carrying them farther from the assassination attempt but closer to truths they couldn't ignore. Jude maintained her security awareness through force of will, but her heart had already surrendered to the reality that keeping Carmen alive had become more than just duty.

It had become everything.

The Hotel Gran Diplomático's underground garage provided cover as their convoy arrived through separate entrances. Jude's team moved with practiced efficiency, securing the space before escorting Carmen through service corridors designed for this exact purpose. Each step echoed against marble floors as they made their way to the security command center on the fourth floor.

Inside the hotel's security room, controlled chaos erupted as Jude's team took over monitoring stations. She positioned herself at the command center, studying surveillance feeds from the summit venue while her pulse still raced from the chase. Each screen confirmed what she already knew: they'd been compromised from within.

"Sweep teams found surveillance equipment in the service corridors," Sarah reported. "Professional grade. Someone's been monitoring our movements."

Jude studied footage of the assassination attempt frame by frame, her jaw tight. She'd missed signs and let her guard down. She let personal feelings cloud her judgment until she'd almost failed at the one thing that mattered most.

"Building across the street," David called out. "Southeast corner. We've got movement."

She moved to the window, keeping to shadows as she verified the threat. Two figures on the opposite roof carried long-range surveillance gear, their movements suggesting military training. She'd seen similar setups in Yemen before everything went wrong.

"They want us to see them," Sarah murmured beside her. "No attempt at concealment."

Kate's fingers flew across her keyboard, pulling up personnel files. "Hotel security rotations changed again. Three new guards were added without proper clearance."

"Pull them." Jude's voice carried the edge of command despite her exhaustion. "I want our people on all access points. No one enters without direct verification."

The knife wound on her cheek burned as she issued orders, each word carefully measured to hide how the night's events had shaken her. But her eyes kept finding Carmen through the security room's glass wall, watching her speak with State Department officials in the adjacent conference room.

Even now, hours after the attempt on her life, Carmen maintained her diplomatic composure, striking in her midnight blue evening gown. Only someone who knew her well would notice the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her hands moved with too much precision as she gestured to emphasize a point.

"Ma'am." Marcus appeared at her shoulder. "Local police want a statement about the incident."

"No statements." Jude kept her voice low. "They had units in position before the attack. Someone leaked our security protocols."

She watched Carmen end her call with Washington, noting how the diplomat's mask slipped just slightly when she thought no one was looking. The urge to go to her and to offer comfort instead of just protection made Jude's hands clench at her sides.

"The waiter's dead." Sarah's voice pulled her attention back to duty. "Hospital's calling it natural causes, but the timing's convenient."

Of course. They were dealing with professionals. The same ones who'd nearly succeeded while Jude was distracted by feelings she had no business harboring.

Carmen entered the security room, and Jude felt her presence like a shift in atmospheric pressure. She still wore her evening gown, the midnight blue silk incongruous among their tactical gear.

"The State Department wants me to return to Washington." Carmen's voice carried that particular tone Jude had learned meant she'd already made up her mind to refuse. "They're concerned about escalating threats."

"They're right to be concerned." Jude kept her focus on the surveillance feeds. "Tonight was professionally coordinated. They'll try again."

"Which is exactly why I need to stay." Carmen moved closer, her perfume cutting through the room's tension. "If we run now, they win. Everything we've worked for—the peace treaty, the indigenous protections—all of it dies."

Jude turned, ready to argue, but the determination in Carmen's eyes made the words die in her throat. This was the woman who'd faced down warlords and cartel leaders and who'd built peace treaties in active war zones. Who'd survived tonight's attempt because she trusted Jude's protection completely.

That trust felt heavier than any battlefield command.

"Then we change protocols." Jude fought to keep her voice professional despite their proximity. "No public appearances. No summit meetings without full security sweeps. And you follow every protection measure exactly as written. Deal?"

"Of course, Captain." Carmen's smile held layers of meaning that made Jude's chest tighten. "I trust your judgment completely."

The words hung between them, loaded with everything they couldn't say in front of others. Jude wanted to reach out, to make sure Carmen was really unharmed, to admit that tonight had terrified her in ways no firefight ever had.

Instead, she straightened her spine and gave orders for the night watch rotation. She had a job to do, a diplomat to protect, and feelings she needed to lock away before they got them both killed.

But as her team cleared the room, leaving her alone with surveillance feeds and the ghost of Carmen's perfume, Jude accepted a truth she could no longer deny: keeping Carmen alive had become more than duty.

It had become everything.

And that was the most dangerous security breach of all.