Will
Chapter fourteen
Back in DC, the reality of what I signed up for when I joined Capital Security has finally sunk in.
The danger of rescue missions, like the one we just returned from after five long weeks, four more than we planned, isn’t that different from what I was doing in the military.
And I don’t know that it’s the kind of life I want to expose Jewel to. I’m not even sure it’s the life I want.
Rubbing my hand over the scar on my shoulder, I’m reminded that it wouldn’t be fair to inflict my unpredictable and dangerous job on her.
She has had enough heartache from losing her father, and I don’t want to be responsible for causing more.
A long time ago, I tried relationships, but every time they failed because the woman couldn’t bear not knowing where I was, when I’d return, or even if I would.
This isn’t a job for someone in a committed relationship. It’s why Ben, Parker, and I are the ones who handle these special operations. Tim, our other partner, stays behind in DC with his wife and baby son.
Last night, when I was finally back in my apartment, I tried calling Jewel, but the call went straight to voicemail.
She’s either blocked me or is ignoring my calls.
The list of missed calls and texts from her stopped completely a couple of weeks ago.
She’s ended it, but I’m sure if I could explain, it wouldn’t be over.
Taking my cell from my jeans pocket, I pull up the message thread and start to type, but I only get one word in before Parker slaps me on the back.
“Conference room, bro. Ben’s got a job for us.”
Following him, I delete the draft and shove my cell back into my pocket.
Trekking through the mosquito-riddled jungle, I had a lot of time to think.
Memories of Jewel were my constant companions, and I wished more than once that we could be back on our beach together, staring out to sea in comfortable silence, waiting for the sun to peek above the horizon.
Being with her was the most peaceful I’d felt in years.
But that was then, before reality crashed into our plans for more. We tried to do long distance, but it’s just not possible with my job making constant demands on my time that can’t be ignored. It’s not fair to her or me.
She’s clearly moved on, and nothing has changed. Is there even any point in trying to explain?
Maybe it’s best I leave things as they are rather than making more promises I can’t keep.
Five Months Later
Isle of Capri, Italy
“If all the jobs could be this sweet,” I muse with my legs kicked out in front of me at a full stretch, and my face turned up to soak in the sun’s rays.
“It sure beats the rain and cold we left behind in DC,” Parker agrees, lying in a similar way on the sun lounger beside me.
“Or sweating our balls off in a South American jungle for weeks on end,” I add, peering through one eye at my friend beside me.
These last six months, our jobs have been exciting and varied.
But without a doubt, this private security gig for the Barbieri family on an idyllic island is by far my favorite one yet.
“Luckily, that mission was a one-off favor to a friend of Ben’s. I’ve already told him I’m not doing those trips again. I’m getting too old to be running through the jungle while getting shot at by crazy drug cartel members.”
“You’re not going to get any arguments from me. At least they didn’t shoot you.”
Parker chokes out a laugh. “Come on, dude, you weren’t shot. It was barely a graze.”
“I beg to differ, and I’ve got the scar to prove it.” It might have been a minor injury considering the dangers in our line of work, but it pissed me off, nonetheless.
Another of Parker’s low chuckles is released, drifting across to me on the light sea breeze, and a contented sigh slips from my mouth.
This would be a lonely life if I didn’t have my buddies to hang out with like this.
We arrived in Capri early this morning on a private jet along with our billionaire client, Antonio Barbieri.
He and his brother Gio have been dealing with escalating threats to their lives and those of their families.
But when Antonio was attacked in Naples by a trio of professionals, they decided they needed more than just a local security firm to protect them.
We were recommended by mutual friends, and right about now, I’m damn happy to be here.
“Toughen up, cupcake,” my friend eventually manages to mutter. “But I do agree, give me security and protection duties for a billionaire any day over an asshole politician or prissy princesses.”
“I vote at our next team meeting that Ben gets all the divas.”
“I’ll second that.”
We fall silent, simply enjoying the rare quiet moment of downtime. It doesn’t last long when Parker’s phone pings with a notification, and we both sit upright.
“Looks like our break is over. Antonio and his wife Lucia are on their way back to the villa,” he says, and already he’s jumping up with his fingers still flying over the screen, replying.
“I’ll do another sweep of the property if you want to go meet them at the gates,” I say, getting to my feet.
He gives me a sharp nod of acknowledgment before walking through the balcony doors. Words aren’t required because we both know exactly what we need to do. It’s what we do best: protecting the people who pay us to keep them safe.
But in this case, our client has become our friend, and that makes this job personal. Nothing can be left to chance, which means we check and recheck all the points of vulnerability as many times as it takes, and I go to do just that.
It’s after midnight when Parker and I next speak. The house is dark and quiet. We’ve checked all the cameras, front and back, and spoken with the three local guards walking the property perimeter.
“All good?” I ask out of habit, already knowing everything looks normal.
“I don’t like the sound of this guy,” Parker says, glancing up from his cell. Ben had emailed through an update on the guy they suspect is orchestrating the threat campaign.
“Me neither. Desperation can make a white-collar criminal more dangerous than the most hardened professional criminal. And this guy is running out of options with the warrant issued for his capture.”
At least now we know who’s behind all the threats, and while the slippery fucker has gone to ground, we’ll remain on high alert. Especially since there are links to the Mafia in Naples.
“Cornered fuckers are the worst. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
I’ve got the first shift monitoring the cameras, and as I spin my chair to face the bank of screens, movement on the left perimeter camera catches my eye.
“Hey, wait. There’s someone moving near the side gate where the path leads down to the beach.”
“And would provide access to the far end of the balcony.”
Parker leans over my shoulder as I adjust the camera angles on that side of the building. “Isn’t that where one of the local security guys is?”
We switch the screen to the other camera on that side of the villa, and the two local guards are leaning against the brick wall, smoking cigarettes. “And that’s why I hate using locals,” Parker growls, moving the computer mouse to pick up different angles.
Black-and-white footage from the balcony camera fills the main screen. “Fuck, there’s someone outside the bedroom doors.”
“I’ve got the outside,” Parker announces before taking off at a sprint.
We worked together for years in the Rangers, and even though it’s only been months since I joined him at the firm, we’ve not forgotten any of that training. We know exactly what to do and where we need to be. The trip to South America proved our instincts have not become rusty.
Parker will circle around the north side of the villa and come up from behind, while I go directly to Antonio and his wife.
We don’t want to scare the intruder until we know we’ve got him cornered.
I fire off a quick message to the local guards to hold their positions until we give the command. We don’t need them to cause confusion.
I put in my comms and check Parker can hear me before I silently make my way up the internal tiled stairs.
Earlier today, I walked through the villa, memorizing the interior layout.
Every room, door, window, and cupboard, checking locks and removing any potential obstacles so I could easily navigate my way even in the dark.
And when I reach the upstairs hallway and crouch outside the bedroom, Parker’s voice comes through on the comms. “One man at the balcony door.”
Swish, bump. The faint sounds of movement come from the other side of the door. It sounds like Antonio is awake. I send him a text.
Me: I’m outside the bedroom door and coming in.
His reply is a thumbs-up, and I silently turn the knob and slip inside. Antonio is lying hidden on this side of the bed, and he gestures to the closed door of the en suite bathroom, letting me know Lucia is inside. I signal for him to remain in place.
Tapping my earpiece, I let Parker know our positions. Then, keeping low, I move toward the wall to the side of the doorframe.
CRASH!
An iron chair from the balcony comes hurtling into the room, showering the floor with shards of glass and splintered wood. A large man barrels through the remaining framework, bringing with him the stench of alcohol and sweat.
“Where is that bitch?” the intruder growls, head turning from side to side like a madman. I don’t hesitate, running at him before he can spew anymore hate, my arm around his neck, getting him into a headlock.
But a punch to my thigh has me staggering backward and loosening my hold. It wasn’t a fist I felt, it’s … a deep searing pain. “Knife,” I shout, warning Parker.
There’s no time for more as the fucker raises his hand to stab me again. A glint of steel catches in a flash of light from outside.
“What the fuck do you want, Bruno?” Antonio yells from behind me.
It’s enough to distract the attacker, and I draw back my fist and swing.
The satisfying crunch of broken bones tells me the punch was successful before I sink to my knees.
My strength is draining from me along with the deep-red bloom of blood on my thigh.
Unbuckling my belt, I wrap it around my thigh just below my groin, then try to pull it tight. I can hear Parker, or is it Antonio, nearby.
“You okay, Will?” Parker’s voice comes to me like I’m down a tunnel.
“The fucker got me.” I groan.
A bright light blinds me temporarily, and when I open my eyes again, Parker is leaning over me, tightening the belt into an effective tourniquet.
“It didn’t hit the artery,” he mutters, and I don’t know if he means to reassure me, but it does. I’m glad that today isn’t the day I die because I want to see Jewel again.
Why that thought comes to me now, I don’t know, because it’s been months.
Rip. Parker has cut my jeans from ankle to groin. I prop myself up on my elbow to glance down at the bloody mess.
“Fuck, those are my favorite jeans.”
“Will, lie the fuck down and shut up,” Parker yells. “Antonio, call an ambulance.”
Parker was our medic back in the Rangers, and relief courses through my veins as I watch him try to stem the thick river of blood seeping from my body and onto the cream tiles. He won’t leave me behind.
The rush of adrenaline is wearing off, replaced by a sharp pain so intense that the metallic odor of the blood tastes like a mouthful of rusty nails. I fall back to the floor, my head swimming. I’m slowly sinking into a dark abyss.
Firm pressure on my thigh drags me back with the effect of a fiery dagger twisting so deeply into my muscle, it’s almost out the other side.
A muffled grunt is dragged from my lips.
My thoughts begin to tangle in a web of muted sounds and hazy images of my life.
Explosions. Choppers. Gunfire. A desert. A jungle. A beach.
A pretty young woman sitting alone on a white sandy beach. This is the one image I want to hold on to. The one I want to repeat. The gray veil of nothingness creeps in, overwhelming my senses one by one. I don’t fight it this time. Because it’s in my dreams where I find Jewel again.