Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Three Years Ago
The explosion rocked the foundation of the Embassy, making everyone drop to the ground.
Alex recovered quickly, backed up to the far wall, and drew his weapon. He already smelled smoke. They wouldn’t have much time.
“Attebury,” he called over to Lance. “Take Wrightworth. Get Pace and Rush to the helo. I’ll take Reyes and find the girl.”
“We should get some eyes on the situation,” Lance argued. “Let me get overwatch on the roof.”
“No time,” Alex said. “We do this quick.”
Lance didn’t like that. “Someone should have briefed us,” he spat. “This is suicide.”
Alex shook his head. “‘Should have’ doesn’t help us. Let’s resolve this and stay on the positive side.”
“Great, let’s hold hands, and Care-Bear stare.” Lance rolled his eyes.
Spencer slowly lifted himself off the floor, taking cover near Alex. “This shit’s going sideways.”
“Oh, you think?” Alex threw him a look as more rumbles and muffled gunfire drifted into the room.
Dammit. He wanted to appear as calm as possible, but the outlook wasn’t good. He didn’t know how many radicals were attacking the embassy, but even one was dangerous.
Charles got to his feet near the window, shaking his head. “I won’t leave without my daughter. You have to?—”
“Sir.” Alex waved his hand. “Get away from the window!”
As soon as the words were out of Alex’s mouth, the sound of cracking glass echoed into the room and blood spurt out from Charles’s shoulder.
He instinctively grabbed his arm, dropping back to his knees next to Mikael.
His friend put a hand to the wound, attempting to stop the blood. It poured out between his fingers.
“I…” Charles gasped. “I’ve been shot.”
Alex knelt and scooted over to the men. He detached his rifle strap, tying it around Charles’s shoulder. He pulled tight, making the man grunt in pain. Sticky blood soaked his hands as he expertly bound the wound.
“Sterling,” Lance coughed. “I smell smoke. Let’s get them out.”
Alex nodded, turning to Mikael. “Stick together. Hold this strap in place. My guys will get you to safety.”
“Act fast,” Roland commented, sneaking a look out the window. “They’re coming up the east side. Dozens of ’em.”
“Least it’s not hundreds,” Alex said. “Reyes, you’re still with me. Let’s get across the courtyard.”
Spencer’s face was pale, and he uncertainly bobbed his head in quick succession. “O-okay,” he stammered.
Alex gritted his teeth. “Someone let me know when that convoy gets here.”
Roland ducked back down, away from the window and shook his head. “They’ve got heavy artillery. Stay away from the walls.”
Alex nodded, pushing Spencer toward the door. Charles reached his good arm out to Alex, making him pause.
“Promise me you’ll get her out safe,” Charles managed. “Please.”
The situation was dire. It had already gone south before he could blink. He couldn’t promise shit. He threw a look at Mikael, who nodded, urging him to just tell the man what he wanted to hear.
“I promise,” he said.
Present Day
Alex sat straight up in bed, drenched in sweat, struggling to breathe. The alarm on the nightstand blared loudly, blocking out the sounds of screaming echoing in his head. He was used to waking up this way, but it never got easier.
He quickly turned the alarm off, then stood up, put his hands on the wall in front of him, and took a series of deep breaths. Moving around helped ease the panic. The familiar aches and pains he experienced every morning finally surfaced as the dream faded.
Calm down. They’re just dreams. He had no doubts as to what triggered his nightmares.
Those eyes, he sat back on the bed and rubbed his neck, then reached for his bottle of Motrin, and quickly swallowed his usual high dose.
Glancing back at the bedside clock, he pushed the lingering panic and dull pain aside. It was ten a.m. The exact time he set the alarm to go off. The blackout curtains were throwing off his sense of time.
He walked to the windows, pulling back the heavy fabric. The surge of sunlight made him squint. When his eyes adjusted, he looked out into the city. He had been living in hotel rooms on and off for five months in Los Angeles. Sleeping in his bed at his house wasn’t in the cards for now.
Edward had put him up in a nice hotel. The bed was comfortable, and maybe that was why he was able to dream.
He tore his gaze away from the window and grabbed his phone.
For the first time since he’d become a personal bodyguard, he wasn’t sure how a job was going to go.
The thoughts that ran through his head were a jumbled mess.
The instinct to keep Scarlet at arms’ length was heavy.
He didn’t want to come off as a jerk, but it was the only way he could keep his head on straight.
Maybe this is your chance to make things right in some way.
His ghosts continued to haunt him, well after he left the life of a PMC.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered. “Lance.”
“Morning, boss.”
It always made him smile when Lance called him “boss.” It was something that started years ago when they were both with SEAL Team 3, stationed out of Coronado.
Lance was the stronger one. He’d saved Alex’s ass more times than he could count.
He was a bit older, had been married, divorced, re-married, and had kids.
Alex couldn’t even manage a relationship longer than a year.
“Got your main lineup,” Lance said. “Wrightworth, Vega, Steele, Gilbert, Harper, and yours truly. I’ll set up your tech, and work the events.”
Alex walked to the bathroom mirror and peered at his reflection. “Vega?”
“Yeah,” Lance said. “Name’s on the list. I thought he was your new hire.”
“Guess I’m still waking up.” Alex yawned as he walked to the bathroom. “I could have sworn the new guy’s name was Rowe.”
“Uh…” Lance paused. “Nope. Name’s right here in print. Ulysses Vega, thirty-five, goes by Uly. Former Army Ranger, trained security agent, shining resume. Guy’s got skills across the board. Comes with a recommendation letter from some CIA big-wig—you had to have phone-interviewed him.”
“All right,” Alex huffed. “I got the name wrong. I had a long night. A long few years.” He reached over and turned on the shower.
“Don’t snap at me,” Lance warned.
Alex didn’t want to appear out of sorts. Lance already could smell something was up. It was his job, and he was good at it.
“Make sure this Uly checks in with you daily for the duration of our contract,” Alex said. “I’m going to pick up my client and be at North Pointe in about an hour. Make sure you fax all the paperwork to that lawyer.”
“Will do. See you there.” Lance ended the call.
Alex mentally went over the day in his head as he disrobed and got in the shower.
Edward would get the Elite Protection option.
Alex was officially Scarlet’s bodyguard during working hours, seven days a week.
He would drive her wherever she needed to go, escort her to public functions, and another guard would patrol the perimeter of her house at night.
Alex moved through his specific morning routine, keeping all these thoughts in mind.
He picked out some gray slacks, a white dress shirt, and dressed quickly.
He adorned his shoulder holster, adjusted it, and placed his 9mm handgun safely inside.
He grabbed his blazer and cast another quick glance in the mirror.
Just another job.
When he was ready, he left the hotel, got in his car, and headed back to Clay Street to pick up Scarlet.
It was Nora the roommate who answered the door with a toothbrush in her mouth.
“Hey,” she said with a mouthful of suds. “Come on in.”
As he moved into the house, Nora walked away from him to a door down the hallway. She spit her toothpaste into the sink and stuck her head back out the door.
“Scar,” she called out. “Your gallant knight is here in a suit!” She looked over at Alex and winked before closing the bathroom door.
A moment later, Scarlet emerged from another door at the end of the room, dressed in white and black loose-fitting athletic attire. Her sweatshirt hung low off her shoulder, and Alex couldn’t ignore the slight flash of cleavage as she leaned over to pack more clothes in her bag.
“Good morning.” She looked up at him as she slowly reached up to pile her wavy hair into a messy bun on top of her head, wincing.
“You ready?” He averted his eyes.
Scarlet sighed and pulled her bulky messenger bag onto her shoulder. “Yeah. Do you mind if I grab some coffee at the shop a block over? We ran out, and I haven’t had time to get to the store.”
“No problem.” Alex didn’t move away from the front hallway. He kept his posture stiff and folded his hands behind him in parade rest.
Scarlet gave him a critical look. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but shook her head and turned her attention to the bathroom door and tapped on it.
“Nor,” she said. “You coming with?”
The door opened and Nora looked out. “Nah, I’ll enjoy my morning commute with the common folk. I don’t have to be there until after lunch anyway.”
Alex stepped to the front door and opened it. He held it open and glanced back at Scarlet, waiting for her to leave.
“Oh.” Nora snapped her fingers. “Shit. Lunch. Remember, late lunch with my father at three. He wanted to know more about what’s going on. You have to be there.”
Alex frowned, wondering why it was the man’s business in the first place.
“Right,” Scarlet said. “Where are we going again?”
Alex cleared his throat, hoping to appear as impatient as he felt.
“We’ll figure it out later.” Nora chuckled.
Scarlet rolled her eyes at Alex, and pushed through the door into the morning air. She took the steps one at a time. When Alex offered out a hand to help her, she brushed him away. He tried to open the car door for her, but she beat him to it.
How independent.
“I can handle opening my own doors, Boy Scout,” she smirked. “It’s not like we’re dating.”
“It’s just part of job etiquette,” he responded, quickly.
Scarlet buckled her seat belt and sat back. “Does that fall under your core value?”