Protecting Her (Honor Bound #5)

Chapter 1

1

JUDE

B lood mixed with sweat on the training mat, the metallic scent a familiar companion. Captain Jude Smith’s muscles burned from two hours of close-quarters combat drills, but she pushed through another set. Her opponent—a fresh-faced SEAL who'd made the mistake of hesitating—was learning that Jude’s reputation wasn't exaggerated. She moved with controlled precision, each strike calculated. When he telegraphed a right cross, she slipped inside his guard and had him on the mat before he registered the movement. Training fights weren't about winning; they were about staying alive when it mattered.

"You telegraph your attacks," she said, offering him a hand up. "In the field, that gets people killed."

The young SEAL nodded, respect replacing his earlier skepticism about training with a woman in his face. Jude had stopped noticing those looks years ago. BUD/S had taught her that respect was earned in blood and sweat, and she'd earned it one brutal evolution at a time.

The call to Command came as she was wrapping her split knuckles, her body humming with familiar pain—the kind that reminded her she was still alive when others weren’t.

Dawn blanketed Virginia Beach in shades of steely shadows, the ocean a dark line against the horizon. Her phone vibrated again, a reminder that this summons wasn't routine.

The Naval Special Warfare Command building rose ahead, its modernized exterior at odds with the weight of history it contained. Jude's boots echoed on the polished floor as she made her way to the briefing room, cataloging the changes since her last deployment. New faces in the halls, fresh unit citations on the walls, another gold star added to the memorial display.

Once inside, Jude scanned the briefing room's walls covered with satellite imagery of Bogotá. The sprawling city looked like a nightmarish tactical maze—narrow streets and blind corners perfect for ambush. Captain Richards stood at the head of the table, his expression grave enough to set off warning bells.

"At ease," he said, though Jude's posture remained rigid. "How's the training going with the new teams?"

"They're learning." She kept her voice neutral, professional. "Some faster than others."

He nodded, understanding the unspoken assessment. Then he slid a diplomatic security file across the table—unusual enough to sharpen her focus. The Department of State seal seemed out of place among their usual military briefings.

"High-stakes summit coming up," Richards said, watching her reaction. "Senior Diplomat Carmen Ruiz has been getting death threats from the Nuevo Amanecer terrorist group. Intelligence suggests they're not just making noise this time. I want you on personal bodyguard duty. Protecting her.”

Jude's fingers traced the edge of the file, remembering Yemen. Another diplomat, another threat. They'd gotten lucky then when her instincts triggered an evacuation hours before the attack. The memory of embassy buildings burning still haunted her.

She opened the folder, and her breath caught for a fraction of a second. The photo of Senior Diplomat Carmen Ruiz showed a woman with diplomatic corps perfection: tailored suit, silver-streaked dark hair falling perfectly to her shoulders, and big brown eyes that had seen too much and gave away nothing. It struck Jude for just a second that Carmen Ruiz was very beautiful.

Stop it.

Jude forced her focus to the intelligence briefs instead: three credible assassination threats in the past month, escalating tensions over oil rights and indigenous territories, and corrupt local officials with cartel connections. The more she read, the more the knot in her stomach tightened.

"Why me?" She kept her voice steady, though her mind was already running tactical scenarios. Her file was full of successful protection details, but this felt different.

"Because the last time someone tried to take out a US diplomat in South America, you were the only one who saw it coming." Richards tapped the photo. "She's too important to lose. The entire peace treaty's riding on this one."

He pulled up additional satellite imagery on the screens. "Nuevo Amanecer's activities have been escalating. Two car bombs in the last month and one assassination of a local official. They've got backing from someone with resources—military-grade equipment, professional training."

Jude studied the explosion patterns, recognizing signatures she'd seen in Baghdad. "They've recruited ex-military. These aren't amateur attacks."

"Exactly." Richards pulled up personnel files. "I'm giving you full pick of your team. Whatever resources you need. State Department's made this top priority."

Jude nodded, already calculating team composition. She'd need Sarah as second; her Delta Force background would be crucial. Marcus for local intel, Kate for tech. The pieces started falling into place as she reviewed the summit location specs.

"One more thing." Richards' tone made her look up. "There might be internal threats. Watch the local security forces. We've got reports of cartel bribes reaching high levels."

"Understood." Jude gathered the files, her mind already shifting to operational planning. But as she stood to leave, her eyes caught on Carmen's photo again. Something about those eyes, about the quiet strength in her expression, made this assignment feel heavier than usual.

"Smith." Richards' voice stopped her at the door. "Keep her alive. Whatever it takes."

She nodded once, sharply, and headed out. The weight of the files in her hands felt like prophecy. Her knuckles stung as she gripped the folder tighter, the pain a reminder to stay focused.

This wasn't just another protection detail. She could feel it in her bones, the same way she'd felt the ambush coming in Yemen. Something about this assignment was different.

And Jude had learned long ago to trust those instincts.

Her office felt colder than usual as evening shadows crept across the office walls, bare except for unit citations and her BUD/S class photo. The sight of her graduating class always brought a familiar ache. Three faces would never age past their service photos, forever young in dress whites. She'd stopped counting the ghosts years ago.

Jude spread Carmen's file across her desk, the harsh fluorescent light catching on the glossy surveillance photos. More official photos showed the diplomat at peace signings, humanitarian missions, and closed-door negotiations. Twenty-five years of service in conflict zones had left its mark in subtle ways: the watchful alertness in her posture, the way she always noted exits and entrances.

Venezuela, 2019: Carmen negotiating with cartel-backed officials while riots burned the city.

Sudan, 2021: Carmen brokering peace between tribal factions when everyone else had given up.

Afghanistan, 2022: Carmen establishing women's education initiatives despite death threats.

Each mission should have been impossible. Each one, she succeeded.

An incredible woman, Jude thought to herself.

Memories of her own previous protection details flickered through Jude’s mind. Losing Johnson to a sniper she should have spotted in Kabul. Learning to trust her instincts when they screamed about local security being compromised in Caracas. The ambassador's family huddled in a safe room while she coordinated their extraction under heavy fire in Yemen. Each mission had taught her something vital, usually paid for in blood.

The video footage brought Jude’s attention back to the present.

Carmen Ruiz moved through crowds with graceful authority, commanding rooms with little effort. In a clip from a recent UN session, she defused a near-violent confrontation between opposing delegations with nothing but carefully chosen words and unshakeable composure.

Jude found herself rewinding certain segments, studying details she didn't strictly need. The way Carmen's hands moved when she spoke—elegant but precise, no wasted motion. How she tilted her head slightly when listening intently, her hair catching the light. The subtle shift in her stance when she sensed hostility, almost military in its readiness.

"Getting to know our protectee?"

Sarah Chen's voice made Jude straighten, caught off guard—a rare occurrence that made her frown. Her second-in-command leaned against the doorframe, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Team assignments." Jude shifted to tactical displays, ignoring Sarah's raised eyebrow. "I want you running backup detail. Your experience with diplomatic protection will be crucial."

Sarah crossed to the desk, studying the summit location blueprints. "Hotel Gran Diplomático. Lovely place for an assassination attempt."

"Sight lines are compromised on all approaches." Jude pulled up satellite imagery. "Too many access points, no good containment options. We'll need to modify standard protocols."

"Already making lists?" Sarah's smile held an edge of understanding. They'd served together long enough to read each other's tension.

"Marcus for local intel; his Colombian contacts will be essential. Kate for tech, James for medical, David for surveillance." Jude marked positions on the blueprint. "But we trust no one outside the core team. Intel suggests cartel money's reaching into local security forces."

Sarah nodded, her expression turning serious. "Like Caracas?"

The memory of gunfire and betrayal hung between them. They'd lost two team members in that ambush after local security forces were bought off by cartels. Jude still remembered the taste of blood and cordite, the way trust became a luxury they couldn't afford.

"We run everything ourselves." Jude's voice carried the weight of command. "Every route, every contingency. I want full background checks on all hotel staff, daily sweeps for surveillance equipment, and alternate extraction plans for every movement."

"You're taking this one personally." Sarah's observation wasn't a question.

Jude didn't respond, focusing instead on memorizing building layouts. But her eyes kept drifting to Carmen's photo, to that pointed look that seemed to see right through her professional distance.

"She's got quite a reputation," Sarah continued, watching Jude's reaction. "They say she can read a room better than any intelligence briefing. Never lost a negotiation she committed to."

"Then we make sure she lives to keep that record." Jude started gathering the files. "Briefing at 0500. Bring the team up to speed on summit security protocols."

Sarah lingered at the door. "You know what they say about protecting diplomats. Hardest part isn't keeping them alive; it's keeping them from making your job impossible."

Jude's lips tightened. She'd protected her share of diplomats, entitled bureaucrats who ignored security protocols and treated their protection detail like servants. But something told her Carmen Ruiz would be different.

She turned back to the surveillance feeds, watching Carmen navigate another high-tension negotiation with seamless grace. The way she commanded attention without demanding it, how she wielded influence like a scalpel rather than a sword.

Carmen Ruiz’s intense brown eyes were in Jude’s dreams that night.

Dawn broke over Washington DC, and the State Department building rose like a fortress against the morning sky, its limestone facade catching the first hints of morning light.

Jude arrived early, checking in through the rigorous security protocols. Her new diplomatic security credentials drew a few curious glances. SEALs weren't common in these halls.

Sarah met her in the lobby, already familiarizing herself with the building's regular security team. "DSS has been briefed on our assignment. They're coordinating additional coverage for the summit."

Marcus appeared at Jude's side, his movement silent despite his size. "Just got off a call with our contacts in Bogotá. Nuevo Amanecer's definitely mobilizing. They're anticipating the summit."

"Surveillance positions?"

"They've been scouting the Hotel Gran Diplomático. Three probable sniper positions identified already." He kept his voice low. "My contacts are setting up counter-surveillance before we arrive."

Jude nodded, checking her watch. The diplomatic security briefing would start soon in the large conference room. Her team wasn't here to protect Carmen within the State Department; that was DSS territory. They were here to plan for Colombia, where the real threats waited.

"Vehicle approaching." David's voice was cool and professional. "Diplomatic plates match our briefing."

Jude moved to the secure entrance, her body thrumming with pre-mission tension. The underground garage was clear of all other vehicles, walls of concrete and steel creating a defendable space. When the armored Mercedes pulled in, her awareness narrowed to tactical precision.

The car door opened, and Jude's training almost failed her.

Carmen Ruiz emerged with fluid grace, her charcoal suit and cream silk blouse a deliberate contrast to the utilitarian surroundings. Silver threaded through her dark hair like moonlight on water. But it was her presence that caught Jude off guard—the way she filled the space with quiet authority and how her eyes swept the garage in a security assessment that rivaled Jude's own.

"Captain Smith." Carmen's voice carried warmth without sacrificing professionalism. She extended her hand, and Jude noted everything in that brief contact: the subtle calluses that spoke of more than just pushing paperwork, the steady pulse at her wrist, and the strength in her grip. "Thank you for taking on this assignment."

"Ma'am." Jude kept her voice neutral, ignoring how her skin tingled where they'd touched. "If you'll follow me, we've established secure routes through the building."

They moved through the underground corridors, Carmen matching Jude's pace without effort. The click of her heels on concrete echoed like punctuation, a counterpoint to the silence of Jude's tactical boots.

"I reviewed your security protocols," Carmen said as they entered the elevator. "Quite thorough. Though I notice you've eliminated all public appearances from the summit schedule."

"Yes, ma'am. The exposure risk is too high."

Carmen's lips curved slightly. "The peace process requires public trust, Captain. Sometimes diplomatic necessity outweighs tactical preference."

The elevator doors opened to the conference level, and Jude felt her spine stiffen. "With respect, ma'am, diplomatic necessity won't matter if you're dead."

Instead of taking offense, Carmen turned to face her fully. For a moment, Jude forgot to breathe. The diplomat's dark eyes held depths of understanding that made her feel exposed, seen in ways that had nothing to do with physical sight.

"You lost someone." It wasn't a question. "In Yemen, perhaps? Or was it Caracas?"

Jude's silence was answer enough. She shouldn't have been surprised that Carmen had researched her; Carmen's file had mentioned her skill at reading people. But the sharp accuracy of it made her chest tighten.

"I'm not unfamiliar with loss, Captain." Carmen's voice softened. "Or with the weight of protection detail. I know what I'm asking of you and your team. But this peace treaty could prevent thousands of deaths. Sometimes we must risk one life to save many."

The conference room doors loomed ahead, saving Jude from having to respond. Inside, local officials and security representatives waited for the briefing. She watched as Carmen transformed, her gentle side replaced by diplomatic steel.

For the next hour, Jude observed Carmen's mastery of the room. She navigated the contentious discussion about summit security with graceful authority, defusing tensions before they could ignite. Each carefully chosen word served multiple purposes: building consensus while gathering intelligence, offering compromise while maintaining control.

Jude found herself studying micro-expressions, cataloging tells and tensions. Her tactical awareness kept tracking sight lines and access points, but part of her attention remained fixed on Carmen's diplomatic dance—the way she tilted her head when listening, how she used silence as effectively as speech, the subtle shifts in posture that commanded attention without demanding it.

"Your security concerns are valid," Carmen was saying to the DC Metropolitan Police liaison. "But surely we can find a balance between safety and necessity."

Jude caught the slight tension in Carmen's shoulder, the only tell that she'd noticed the liaison's evasion about coordinating with Colombian security forces. Their eyes met briefly across the room, and Jude saw her own suspicions mirrored in Carmen's gaze. The diplomat hadn't missed anything; she was just better at hiding her reactions.

The meeting concluded with preliminary agreements in place, though Jude noted which officials would need closer surveillance. As the room cleared, Carmen gathered her notes with practiced efficiency.

"Walk with me, Captain?" She made it sound like a request rather than an order. "We should discuss the modified protocols."

They moved through the building's secure corridors, their steps falling into natural synchronization. Carmen's presence beside her felt like a gravity well, drawing Jude's awareness despite her best efforts to maintain professional distance.

"You have concerns about the Colombian security forces we'll be working with," Carmen said quietly.

"Several." Jude kept her voice low. "The intelligence briefings suggest?—"

"Cartel influence." Carmen nodded. "I've worked in Bogotá before. Last time I was there, three senior security officials were arrested for corruption. We'll need to be selective about who we trust."

Jude glanced at her sharply. She hadn't expected such tactical observation from a diplomat.

Carmen's smile held a hint of amusement. "You're not the only one who pays attention to details, Captain. In my line of work, missing subtle clues can cost lives just as surely as missing a security breach."

The day stretched into evening, city lights replacing sunshine outside Carmen's State Department office. Jude fought to maintain focus as they reviewed protection protocols, hyper aware of how the enclosed space amplified Carmen's subtle perfume, something sophisticated and understated that Jude firmly pushed from her awareness.

"Let's test the systems," Jude said, pulling out the encrypted communications set. She handed Carmen an earpiece, trying to ignore how their fingers brushed during the exchange. "This connects to three separate frequencies."

Carmen inserted the covert earpiece with practiced ease. "And if someone attempts to jam the signal?"

"It automatically switches channels and alerts the team." Jude demonstrated on the control unit, her body subconsciously leaning closer to show Carmen the interface. "The pendant has a separate backup system. If you tap it three times?—"

"It sends a silent alert," Carmen finished, surprising her. "I had something similar in Venezuela. Though I suspect yours is more sophisticated." She touched the pendant, her fingers tracing its surface. "The craftsmanship is excellent. Almost too ornate for a panic button."

"That's the point." Jude activated the system, and Carmen's phone lit up with a secure connection notification. "Try it."

Carmen pressed the pendant, and Jude's tactical radio crackled to life. Sarah's voice came through immediately: "Alert received. Location confirmed. Response team standing by."

"Impressive," Carmen murmured. "Though some of these protocols seem... excessive."

"Three layers of redundancy." Jude leaned over the desk, pointing out features on the building schematics. "Each member of the core team monitors a different frequency. If one channel is compromised?—"

"The others remain secure." Carmen nodded, and Jude caught another whisper of her perfume. "Like having multiple diplomatic back channels."

Their shoulders brushed as they studied extraction routes on the blueprints they’d received from Bogotá. Jude shifted away under the pretense of checking sight lines, ignoring the zap of electricity between them after the contact. "The Hotel Gran Diplomático's architecture presents challenges. Too many access points."

"I've stayed there before." Carmen's voice carried a weight of memory. "During the last coup attempt. The service corridors proved useful for unofficial negotiations."

Jude frowned. "Those same corridors create security vulnerabilities."

"Which is precisely why we need them." Carmen's eyes darkened and held a hint of challenge. "Sometimes the best path to peace requires calculated risks."

"My job is to eliminate risks, ma'am."

"Your job," Carmen said softly, "is to manage them. There's a difference, Captain."

The way she said “Captain”—like she saw past the rank to something underneath—made Jude's chest tighten.

She focused on adjusting security patrol patterns instead of analyzing why.

Evening settled over the city as they finished reviewing the summit protocols. Through the office windows, DC's lights began to flicker on, creating a backdrop of urban stars. Jude gathered the Bogotá security briefings, trying to ignore how Carmen’s presence seemed to loom large and push against her awareness in the small room.

"One last thing," Carmen said, her voice softer. "I know my diplomatic requirements sometimes conflict with security protocols. But I trust your judgment, Captain."

"Just doing my job, ma'am."

"Are you?" Those dark eyes of Carmen Ruiz saw too much. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's briefing will be intense."

Later, in her sparse temporary quarters near the Navy Yard, Jude lay awake. The ceiling fan cut shadows through dim light as she reviewed the day, trying to convince herself that her hyperawareness was purely professional. She traced the rough wrap on her knuckles, focusing on the sting to ground herself.

Tomorrow, they'd run full security drills. She needed to coordinate with the advance team heading to Bogotá, establish command structure, and get everyone in sync. But her mind kept drifting to the way Carmen's voice changed when discussing the peace treaty, the barely perceptible softening that revealed how much it meant to her.

Jude rolled over, forcing herself to focus on tactical approaches and escape routes instead. She couldn't afford distractions. Not with this assignment. Not with these stakes.

The ceiling fan kept spinning, cutting the silent darkness into predictable pieces as she tried to ignore how this protection detail already felt different from all the others. How Carmen Ruiz wasn't just another diplomat to protect, but something far more dangerous to Jude's carefully maintained control.

Yemen had taught her that attachment got people killed. Caracas had reinforced the lesson in blood. She couldn't let her guard down, couldn't let Carmen become more than a mission.

But as sleep finally approached, Jude's last thought was of Carmen’s dark magnetic eyes that saw more than what she let on and voice that made “Captain” sound like something else entirely.