Guardian Knight

by Aarti V Raman

  ‘“Course, sir.” Lucas grinned and snapped off a salute.

  Brand would have come back with a retort but the screen on his side showed a picture of Akira Naik sleeping deeply in her comfy bed. Hair spread all over the pillow and the robe bundling her.

  Lucas whistled. “What I would give to be left alone with her.”

  Murad, always on the lookout for single available female, asked, “Why?”

  “Underwear, man. Things I haven’t seen. I got a hard-on just seeing her...”

  “Why are we disrespecting Ms. Naik?” Brand asked mildly. “Have you two been around dudes so long you think its okay to talk shit about women?”

  Murad and Lucas colored and muttered apologies.

  Brand continued coolly, “If you two have things under control here, I am going to take a shower now. Work off this sweat. I’ll be back and we can go over the logistics again. Get the rest of the team here for the next debrief, will you, mate?”

  The backtalk stopped as both men focused on work. They started using the miniature, palm-length com-talkies to call the rest of his crew to the nav cabin for a debriefing session.

  Slipping his own comms in his pocket, Brand walked away, just as the radar screen started to blip.

  Lucas and Murad frowned when they saw it.

  The navigation cabin was aft of the prow, the cabins were situated about halfway away from the room, down one short flight of stairs. The gym, sauna, spacious galley and more cabins were all situated on this level. And there were three bathrooms, apart from those with en-suites, on this level.

  The next level held all the lounges and Premier Delgado’s quarters.

  None of the lounges were in use till tonight. The documentary would debut in the media room adjacent to Delgado’s stateroom. The rooms didn’t allow much in the way of access, but then again, this limited Brand’s own exit strategy.

  It helped his conscience that there were three lifeboats and two more inflatables on board. All the ninety guests could be taken out in a matter of minutes if something were to happen. His crew was trained to handle any contingency.

  His primary responsibility was to keep Santiago Sebastian Delgado alive past this night.

  At least it had been. And dammit, he scowled as he opened the heavy oak door of his cabin opposite Akira’s, it still was.

  His talkie squeaked static. He picked it up on reflex. “Go for Rice.”

  Brand was inside his room, walking towards the closet that held his workout clothes, his daily outfit of cargo pants and black tee shirts, and one hideously expensive tuxedo that he’d had to bring to the event. He absently pulled a towel from an overhead rack and depressed the talk button.

  “Brand, there’s an unidentified approaching us, port-side. Submerged. So we couldn't spot it till it came near range. We’ve asked for identification. Waiting for confirmation.” Lucas’s hard tones crackled over the talkie.

  “Keep asking for identification. Don't make any moves. I’m moving out.”

  Brand moved out of his cabin at a rapid run, holding his talkie and checking the Walther PPK he carried in his other pocket. It’s not like he was going to shoot at some submarine but it helped to carry it. To have that assurance.

  “Brand, it’s a sub.” Short for submersible. “One of the new ones from the South East. And it has a Bazooka mounted on the mouth. Pointed at the first deck. Should we engage?” Lucas sounded worried now.

  “Shit. Wait. Have they identified themselves? Dammit.” Brand ran back, opened Rumi’s door and breathed a sigh of relief because he found it empty. He’d seen her entering the gym when they’d been checking security in the nav cabin.

  But that meant...

  “They are refusing to identify themselves. Total comm silence. Should we engage?” Lucas asked with less worry and more surety now.

  Brand’s answer was instantaneous. “Yes.”

  The reason Brand had been hired was because he could make warships out of pleasure yachts. The Princess had been stripped and fortified with a special kind of Kevlar material that should withstand heavy fire, should the need arise. Unfortunately, a Bazooka was more than heavy fire. It was a contained bomb.

  There were sten-guns and machs hidden on various levels of the boat. Not to mention the six torpedoes he had had fitted on the undersides of the vessel. And the men manning each of these firearms knew what they were doing.

  In fact, there was even a rocket launcher on the port-side deck, in the storage area. Markham was manning it.

  “They’re still refusing to back off. The Bazooka’s engaged. What do we do?”

  “Dammit. Dammit. Secure Sebastian now.”

  Brand didn’t think anymore, he kicked the door opposite his own cabin in. The wood splintered and gave way.

  The woman on the bed came awake instantly with a small cry. But she didn’t scream. He gave her points for that.

  “What the hell?” Akira looked at him wildly.

  “No time to explain. Get your stuff. Now.” He strode in looked out of the huge porthole that was directly behind her huge four-poster.

  There was another porthole on the west wall, but that one showed only shiny blue water. This one, on the other hand, showed a long black barrel poking out of the water. This was not good news.

  “What?” Akira asked again, getting out of bed. She grabbed her laptop and stood on the side of the bed.

  Brand knew they had seconds, if that, to get out. In these closed confines, the blast impact would be enormous. He was certain Sebastian was in the fortified nav cabin by now. Protected.

  And he deduced this attack was not on the premier. No, it was on the woman who was going to make the little country and its ruler famous. It was for Rumi Bali.

  Without another thought, he scooped Akira, the bag and laptop in his arms and sprinted out. He caught Rumi coming out of the sauna on the east end, near the stairs and yelled, “Take the stairs. Now.”

  ~~~~~~

  Akira held onto him, out of shock more than anything else. And there was a part of her that was terribly aware of the strength and power of the man who was running up the steps to the upper deck with her bag and baggage like it all weighed nothing.

  For a single second she even thought that it was all some sexy dream she was having.

  Then she heard the big explosion… felt the ground shake beneath her feet… saw wood and splinters being blown sky high. Like gruesome confetti.

  Akira couldn't stop from hiding her face against his chest. Her hands tightened around him as he carried her to the star-board side. As the sound of the explosion wound down, there was another.

  And this time, the port side listed because the torpedo had been launched. It hit the target and blew it to smithereens.

  Brand dumped her on the deck chair, dropped her bag and would have walked away, without another word but she said, in a steady voice, “Brand, wait.”

  He waited.

  Akira looked at him.

  His chest glistened with sweat. His sweat pants sat as easily on him as the cargoes he’d worn before. The non-expression of his face reminded her of granite waiting to be blasted. She recoiled as she saw the steely purpose, the killer control of his black stare.

  She licked her lips and asked, “Who are you?”

  He waited a beat before answering. “I am the man who saved you.”

  Then he walked away as if what he had done had no consequence whatsoever.

  Akira looked at his retreating back and felt something more than gratitude. She felt …too much.

  Reality kicked in a second later as she huddled into her robe and looked around then. There wasn’t much activity this side of the ship, but men were running down the stairs in a terribly hurry and with precise motions.

  She saw Rumi standing to one side, talking to a man and made her shaky way to her friend. Things were making sense to her now that the initial shock had passed.

  The premier’s cabins were too far below for that explosion to have caused any
real harm. And she was one of only two people occupying the cabins above. Ergo, the explosion had been meant for Rumi.

  Akira looked at the pieces of wreckage that lay on the deck chairs. If she’d been in that room a second longer...

  ~~~~~~

  Rumi finally found her, concern etched in her strained face as they both ran toward each other. “My god! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

  “I am fine. I am fine. Brand grabbed me before the explosion hit. We made it out safely. But, you --” Akira hugged her friend then.

  Both women shuddered.

  Then Akira eased back and saw her friend. “Thank god.”

  Rumi swallowed, nodded. Didn’t say anything.

  “What happened?” Akira choked out.

  “I don't know. I really don't. I wish...” Rumi shuddered again.

  Once, she’d thought it was worth it worth it all to give up your life for something you believed in.

  That was before she had found someone to believe in. Being in love made the fear for another person so huge. So damn scary. And even now, knowing that she was a target, Rumi’s first thought had been of Henry.

  Of what would happen to him if something happened to her.

  And, now all she wanted was Henry to hold her and make everything safe again.

  She hugged Akira tight, and swallowed the tears that flooded her throat.

  Akira hugged her back tighter. “I know, I know.”

  Then they both looked up to hear the distinctive whir of rotor blades. A Sikorsky was rapidly gaining on the yacht, circling low.

  Rumi smiled, and one tear slipped out anyway. “Henry’s here.”

  Four

  “And then Brand’s yelling at me to run up the stairs. Carrying Akira in his arms like he’s Akshay freaking Kumar, and then the whole thing went poof. And I’m so glad my tapes were in the media room where the explosion did not hit.” Rumi recounted the whole incident to Henry while he drank coffee and she sat on his lap, a couple hours later.

  He hadn’t let go of her since the chopper had touched down.

  Rumi was brushing it all off now. Now that they were all safe. Now that she was in her lover’s arms and death was just cabins blown to pieces.

  “Poof? It was like a bomb went up in there.” Akira corrected as she drank her fourth cup of coffee. Maybe then she’d start to feel warm again, alive again.

  She’d had brushes with death before. A seasoned foreign correspondent dealt with it on a regular basis. She’d seen gunfights, mobs, civil riots, natural disasters. And she’d been calm through it all. But then, all of that had been impersonal. She’d been the observer, the reporter, doing her job in the face of death.

  She’d never faced the death of a loved one before. And her internal clock was still all shaky.

  Rumi would go nuts if she found out how shaky she was.

  “I'm just glad both of you made it out alright,” Henry said simply, as he looked at Akira and Rumi.

  Especially Rumi, who had hassled him and irritated him and made him feel more than he could ever imagine feeling for a woman.

  Rumi grinned at that. “We have Brand to thank for, don't we? It seems like the guy is fated to save your life.”

  Akira thought, you’re right but I don’t like it. She made a face. “I thought I was the one who saved yours. With the idea of the shower and all.”

  Rumi snorted. “You were in snoozeville so you didn’t want me to wake you up.”

  Henry said in the same infuriatingly calm voice that had driven Rumi nuts until she had decided he was perfect for her. “Be that as it may, I am just glad both of you are in one piece. Even if we do have Brandon to thank for it.”

  His voice had the same accent that Brand had, Akira couldn't help noticing. Precisely English. But, with everything that came to Brand, even his voice was...intense.

  “I already did. I told him thanks and asked him who he was. He sure as hell isn’t just crew. And you know him, Henry, so give. Who is Brandon Rice?” Akira demanded.

  Henry looked steadily at her. “He saved your life, Akira. Can’t you let it go at that?” he asked feebly.

  Rumi laughed.

  Akira shook her head. “Fuck no. The man moves like a phantom, and has the seasoned reflexes of a warrior. He kept his head in a very tough, dangerous moment, which means that he’s had training with this kind of thing. So, tell me, does he work with you? Is he part of the whole government spy business?”

  It was the first of several things she could think of.

  Henry smiled at that. Shook his head. “Nope, I can say for a fact that Brand doesn’t work as a spy, for any government. He is his own man. But, you’re right, he has the training and the reflexes of a man with combat training. And, before you ask me, no, I can’t tell you what it is. It’s not my place. Ask him yourself.” Now his smile turned goading, but with a fraternal air. “Be a reporter.”

  Akira looked thoughtfully at her coffee. “You know,” she murmured. “I think I might just do that.”

  “Do what?” A faintly accented male interrupted them.

  ~~~~~~

  Sebastian Delgado walked across the fore of the upper level deck where the three of them were lounging on deck chairs. “I am so sorry for everything that has happened since you have arrived. Do forgive me for the...unpleasantness.”

  Akira immediately stood up, grateful that she had changed from the robe, into red flare pants and a white tank top and sneakers. She figured this place was dangerous enough without adding four-inch wedges to the mix.

  “Senhor Delgado,” she said with a smile, extending her hand and then dropping it to her side.

  Protocol, darn it! She didn’t know the protocol when it came to rulers of mid-size countries. She’d interviewed several political biggies before this, but no one as important as the leader of a country himself. And definitely not under such circumstances. It was an unnerving experience.

  A tall, spare man, who carried the weight and responsibility of his position with ease and a certain wariness, Delgado came across as implacable and intelligent. Both onscreen and in person. He was also extremely charming, when he chose to be. Like now when he took Akira’s wrist lightly in one hand and dropped a casual kiss on the back of it.

  To her eternal mortification, she blushed.

  “Please.” He gave a megawatt smile that showed even white teeth and a ruthless charm. “Call me Sebastian. All my guests do.”

  “You’re doing a number on her to soften her up or because she is gorgeous?” Rumi teased as she kissed him on both cheeks.

  He did the same back, then winked at Akira. “Both. Neither.” Then his stance sobered, “Rumana,” he was the only man on earth who persisted in calling her that. “I am so sorry, my dear… If I had known this was about to happen, I’d never have arranged for the documentary debut to take place on The Princess.”

  “We all knew the risks, Sebastian. I am just glad it wasn’t you. That they weren’t gunning for you,” she assured him.

  Henry just shook hands with the premier as if they were old friends.

  Akira was still reeling from the shock of seeing this larger than life personality before her. But she snapped out of it, when Sebastian smiled at her.

  Her brain started working. His charm was working, alright. A good looking, powerful man would turn any sane woman’s head. But when it came to her job, Akira wasn’t looking for charm or power.

  She wanted the truth.

  So she smiled, her own, cute smile that her mother had warned her would get her as into trouble as out of it. “Sebastian, I wonder if we could have some time alone.”

  “For a beautiful woman, always,” he said.

  Akira ignored the slightly sexist remark. She elaborated, “I know our interview is scheduled for eleven. And you’re prepped for it, but maybe we could just have a few impromptu questions. And anything you want will be off the record. I would be so, so grateful for a few minutes of your time, if you can spare it.
” She smiled disarmingly.

  It wasn’t that he wanted a hero worshipper, she wasn’t one. But you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. She waited for his smile and nod.

  There was approval in his eyes as he offered her his arm. “Like I said, I always have time for stunningly smart and beautiful women.”

  “Please.” She invited as she slipped her hand through his. “Call me Akira. All of my interviewees do.”

  He laughed then, and remarked, “Brand was right. You will ask the hard ones and I won’t be able to not answer.”