32. Second Chance Serenity
The thrill of the chase is one of my favorite parts of this job.
Boots hammering against the pavement, I sprint through a back alley in downtown L.A. My body is coated in a thin layer of sweat thanks to the humidity clinging to the air, and my muscles are warm. I pay little attention to the trash littering the ground, or the stench of dirty, wet pavement as I run.
The guy I’m after, a would-be stalker who stole some photographs my client would rather not get out, glances over his shoulder. His beady eyes widen and he pumps his arms harder, as though that is going to speed him up. Truth is, I could have caught him nearly as soon as I started chasing him, but he deserves to worry awhile. And from the looks of it, that’s exactly what he’s doing.
His face is beat red, his expression one of fear as he glances back again. Good. I grin. A man who would target a woman who’d just had a baby, simply so he could make some spare change off “never before seen photographs” should be afraid of what’s going to happen when I catch him.
I may be a man of God, willing to let justice be served by appropriate channels, but he doesn’t have to know that.
The man trips, his foot catching on a piece of broken pavement, and he tumbles forward, face sliding against the pavement. He cries out in pain, and tries to roll over, but I’m faster as I slide to his side, then slam my knee down into the middle of his back. With him pinned to the ground, I search his pockets, finding the phone he’d used within seconds.
“I’m sorry, man! I didn’t do anything!” he yells as I rip the cell free from his possession.
“I’m confused,” I reply. “Are you sorry or did you not do anything?” I ask as I quickly check his phone for the photographs. As soon as I’ve double checked he didn’t delete them, I shove the phone into my pocket and withdraw zip ties from my back pocket.
His wrists bound, I haul him up so he’s sitting, then pull out my own phone to make a call to the officer one of my partners, Jaxson, told me to contact.
“Diaz.” He sounds distracted, but answers on the third ring.
“It’s Michael Anderson. I’ve got some scum for you to pick up.”
Interest perked, his tone changes. “Send your location. I’ll get uniforms over there.”
“Great. Thanks.” I end the call and share my location with the officer. As soon as that’s done, I take a deep breath and stretch, rolling my neck and enjoying every pop from the aches.
I survey the man sitting on his back. He’s short, probably at least a foot below my six-foot-six inches, and his face is red and bloodied thanks to the pavement rash. All in all, dude looks rough. “Long day?” I ask, reaching into my pocket and popping a piece of gum into my mouth. Chewing gum has become a habit of mine ever since I got back from overseas. Being deployed in war zones, shot at, blown up, and nearly killed a time or two has left me with more than just physical scars. And for some reason, the monotony of simply chewing gum helps lower my anxiety.
Not that I’m having any right now. No, right now I’m dealing with the desire to scare this guy so badly he’ll never consider doing this ever again. “Long day?” I ask, leaning against the wall and firing off a text to my client, letting her know the images are soon to be in the hands of police.
He glares up at me. “They were just pics, man.”
“They were an invasion of privacy,” I tell him. “Surely you can understand someone’s desire for discretion after they just had a baby.”
“Someone’s going to get them, might as well be me. They won’t get me on anything.”
“Maybe not on the pictures,” I admit. “Those will likely be a slap on the wrist.” I snap my fingers, then push off the wall. “Except for the fact that my team got footage of you trying to rip the baby from her arms when she wouldn’t let you photograph him. That makes it attempted kidnapping.”
His eyes go so wide it’s nearly comical. “I was going to give him back! I just wanted a picture!”
“Take it up with your lawyers. But I can guarantee they’ll be no match for hers. Deep pockets and all.” Sirens echo down the street moments before red and blue lights bathe us in color. “Let’s go.” I haul him up to his feet, then march him forward as two uniformed officers climb out of the squad car.
“Michael Anderson?” the one closest to me asks.
“That’s me.” I open my jacket so he can see the Knight Security badge strapped just inside my leather jacket. “The images on his cell phone are of a sensitive nature, so I’ll be delivering them myself. But I’d appreciate it if you could get this guy booked for attempted kidnapping.” I hand the target over to the police, then start back up the street to get my bike.
“You heading to the station?” one of the officers call out.
I wave my hand in response, not looking back at them as I climb onto my rented bike, fire up the engine, and take off down the street.
* * *
“You’re surethe pictures are safe?” Sunny questions as she cradles her newborn son against her chest. As one of the most popular—and private—actresses in show business these days, having the birth of her son protected was enough to make the call to Lance and hire me.
It’s not the first time I’ve worked for her, and over the last year since she’d called and had me work a red-carpet premier, I’ve grown close to both her and her producer husband Geoff. He stands behind her now, his hand on her shoulder. They’re nearly complete opposites. As her name would suggest, Sunny has a bright smile and platinum hair that shines beneath the rays of sunshine sneaking in through the windows.
Her husband is nearly as tall as I am, and his hair is nearly black, his eyes a dark brown. He was a stunt man in his earlier years, and ended up losing his right arm in the process.
“The pictures will never see the light of day,” I tell them both. I saw to it that they were permanently deleted as soon as the Captain had written up his report. The phone didn’t leave my hands from the moment I caught him until the photos were removed.”
“You don’t believe the man who took them sent them off to anyone before?” Geoff questions.
“He didn’t have time,” I reply with a satisfied smile. “He was on the run the moment he snapped them, and the phone was in his pocket until I dropped him to the ground.”
Sunny smiles up at her husband, relief on her face. “Close call.”
“Yes, it was,” he replies, then leans down to kiss her on the top of her head. “What can we do to repay you?”
“Pay your invoice,” I reply.
Sunny laughs. “Obviously. But there has to be something else.”
“We’ve given your name to all of our closest friends,” Geoff says. “You are highly recommended in our circle.”
Pride warms my chest. When I’d been medically retired from the military after suffering injuries that wouldn’t allow me to remain in the service, I’d thought my time of helping others and fighting the good fight was over.
But then Lance opened his security firm, and my new destiny was revealed. One that allowed me to return to my hometown, while also seeing the world and helping as God leads me to do.
“I appreciate that.” I reach forward and shake his hand. “Let me know if you need anything else. You can always give me a call.”
“We will,” Sunny replies.
I offer Sunny a wave, then head toward the front door of their private house. Geoff walks behind me, following me out. As we reach the door, I turn to face him. “It was good to see you again, Geoff.”
“You, too, Michael. And listen, let me know if you ever want to take me up on that stunt work. I think you’d be good at it.”
“I’d be great at it,” I reply with a grin. “But it’s not for me. My life is in Hope Springs.”
“Life?” He arches a brow. “I didn’t take you for a family man.”
“Not yet,” I reply with a laugh. “But maybe someday. See you around.” I step out into the bright Los Angelos sunshine. My bike sits at the front of their circular drive, and since my flight isn’t for another five hours, I opt for a ride along the coast before joining the craziness of the airport.
But before I climb on, I pull my cell out and tap on Lance’s contact.
“Knight,” he answers.
“I’m going to head to the airport,” I tell him.
“Everything go okay?”
“Smooth as butter,” I reply.
Lance chuckles. “Good to know.”
“How are things back home?” I ask.
“She’s fine,” he tells me. I’m not at all surprised that he can read between the lines. Lance Knight was my Officer In Charge when I’d been in the service, and we’ve been close friends since the day we nearly died together, alongside our other partner, Elijah. He knows me better than I know myself most times, and Reyna Acker—the woman whose heart I broke when I’d been a teenager—is always on my mind.
“Good. Well, I’ll get my report to you as soon as I get back to the office.”
“Your plane lands late tonight?”
“Ten-fifteen,” I reply. “So it’ll be tomorrow before I get to it.”
“Not a problem. Looking forward to having you back in town.”
I end the call and climb onto the bike. After firing up the engine, I leave their estate through a massive iron gate, and hit the highway.
Wind whips past me as I drive. Warm air that kisses my skin. As she usually does, Reyna pops into my head. The girl I’d left behind when I joined the military. I’d promised her a future. A ring. Kids. And then I left without so much as a simple goodbye.
Now I can’t get her to give me the time of day.
Not that I blame her. I’d been focused on myself and wanting a life other than the one my father had set out for me, and she’d been planning for a future that would never come to pass.
Forgiveness. I’d told Geoff a family could be on the horizon for me someday, but the truth is I know it’ll never happen. A family for me doesn’t exist without Reyna. But I’ve been home for almost five years now, and she still won’t give me the time of day.
Does that mean I’ll stop trying? Absolutely not.
Even if it means watching her marry someone else.