W

by Anne Leigh

  For the first time in my life, I had no plan for what I was going to do – I was being led by pure instinct. The instinct to protect her, all parts of her, whether she liked it or not, it wasn’t her choice to make.

  He was a tall guy, but I didn’t come out of the academy in the top 5% for nothing. Being caught completely by surprise, Denton managed to say, “What the hell?” before I dumped his body on a pile of leaves and pressed on the carotid arteries by his neck, just enough to render him unconsciousness.

  He’d be okay, he’d just look like he was sleeping.

  The sound of a bullhorn followed by a harsh order, “Everyone out!” had me backing up and reaching for Athena. Her eyes were caught in equal parts fear and wonder. She was trying to scream, but no words would come out. I’d seen it a couple of times before. It’s what happened when the brain hadn’t connected with the vocal words and I knew I had only a few seconds before the actual shrieking started.

  I muffled her mouth with my hand and even if I had derailed her romantic plans for the night, the last thing I wanted was for her to be completely frightened of me. To her, I was a complete stranger who had just dumped her wanna-be lover’s body in a messy pile of leaves, while probably looking like a completely deranged man.

  I lowered my head close to her ear, the subtle scent of jasmine and rose wafting towards me, my jaw touched her soft cheek and I whispered, “Your father sent me.”

  “Let’s go,” the Hulk commanded, grabbing my hands, and leading us away from the house, his strides precise, even, filled with purpose.

  I had so many questions, but couldn’t find the strength to speak out loud yet. My body was going into overdrive with the current flash of events. He kept moving and moving and all I could do was follow. I stopped in my tracks to give myself a minute, but then I heard the commotion stemming from the house and the sounds of police sirens blaring in the background.

  That side of the university was lacking in light so I couldn’t completely see the expression on his face. Apparently, he was not giving me a minute because when I let out an exhale, he had me by my waist up on his shoulders and he was carrying me around like a minor inconvenience.

  “Please put me down,” I said, my hands digging into his back, feeling the solid, hard muscle that his shirt couldn’t hide. The speed and pace that he took was unbelievably fast. I wasn’t a tiny woman, I indulged in too many sweets which would be the main reason why my 130-lbs was not going any lower. I’d rather be at this weight than be at my previous weight before… For many, many years…

  He wasn’t listening to me or if he was, he was completely focused on what he was doing. We passed Mama Sidas, my favorite taco place, a never-been opened pharmacy store, and when we reached the small lot area where food trucks usually parked, he slowly put me down.

  “Call your friend.” His voice was steady, not even slightly out of breath. “Ask where she’s at. She should be out by now.”

  How was I to say no? This guy obviously wasn’t one to take orders.

  I took my phone out of the tiny black shoulder bag I had wrapped over my right shoulder and with my hands shaking, I dialed Dyan’s number.

  She answered on the third ring, “Athena! Where are you?”

  “I’m safe…” There were no other words for it. This guy might be the cover model for a rough, tough war machine, but he made me feel safe. “Where are you at?”

  Mr. Hulk walked towards a bike that screamed expensive and bad-ass and swung his leg over the top of it in one fluid motion. His head turned towards me, and I had a gnawing sensation crawl up over me. If I started carrying on a conversation with Dyan, the way his arms were hanging loosely over the front of the bike’s frame and his feet planted on the pedals, he looked like a guy who would wait all the time in the world until I ended the phone call with my friend.

  Dyan’s voice was breathless, sounding as if she’d just run a marathon, “I was worried for you, girlfriend, but I got a text telling me to get out. I’ve no clue who it came from, but it looked urgent and thank goodness I did or else I’d be arrested right now, along with the others.” Her voice cracked as she continued, “I can’t afford to get arrested, A. My parents would kill me.”

  On Wednesday, which were ice cream nights, a tradition that Dyan had started with me and the girls on the second floor, she’d confided in us that her parents were super strict and she either had to become a doctor or a lawyer or her parents wouldn’t be paying for her tuition. Her older brother was a doctor and her older sister was a lawyer. I could only imagine the wrath her parents would bring down on her if she had been arrested tonight for attending a college party with booze for minors and possibly drugs. I’d never smelt marijuana, but the bloodshot eyes and the slurred speeches of some of the party-goers were dead giveaways.

  Somehow Mr. Muscle had managed to get my friend out of a dire situation. I paced back and forth, kicking a small rock or two that got caught in the front of my heels, listening to Dyan as she whooped in relief when she asked me for the second time, “Where are you, Athena?”

  I answered truthfully, “I’m with a guy.” A man.

  “A guy?” she questioned, I could hear her closing the door of her car. “Denton?”

  “No. Denton is…” I knew where he was, sleeping under a tree, “Sleeping.”

  “What guy?”

  I didn’t know who he was. “I’ll explain to you later,” I replied, straightening my back, trying to ease the tension that wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

  “Okay…” Her tone was unbelieving. “Just answer one question for me, A.”

  Air infused in my lungs, “Alright.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not...” I said - I can’t find it in me to lie to her - but for her peace of mind, I added, “But I will be.”

  I breathed out thrice as long and when she said goodnight and to call her anytime so she can pick me up wherever I may be, I took a long look at the view in front of me. Los Angeles never slept, something that I found out to be so different from Atlanta where I grew up, Boston where I spent most of my childhood, and Baltimore where I had no choice but to be, so even at this hour, cars passed by at way past midnight as my phone had indicated and the view from the lights that lit up Exposition Park could be seen from a distance.

  My father had sent him.

  My father had never had to send anyone for me. Ever.

  The only reason why my dad would send him wasn’t because of good news.

  Slowly, I walked towards him where he was still eyeing me silently, patiently.

  I’d never ridden on a motorcycle. However, I knew how to ride a two wheeled bike with multi-colored bells and whistles on it. It was on top of my Christmas wish list and my mom had been a nervous wreck watching me climb it and getting the scrapes on my legs after falling down way too many times. Our neighbor, Graciela, taught me how to balance my feet and push on the handles to brake.

  Mr. Muscle didn’t say a word. His demeanor was entirely composed, there was nothing that could fluster this guy.

  I wondered, what’s the color of his eyes? Were they as black as his mood? Or were they as green as his composure, cool, as if nothing could trip him up?

  Standing a few steps away from him, I said, “She’s safe. Thank you.”

  His head lifted in a nod, the lines in his mouth set in a straight line. Goodness, does this guy ever smile?

  Realizing that this may be the only opportunity I had to ask, I voiced out, “Is he going to be okay? Denton?”

  Again he raised his head in reply.

  Wow.

  What a talker.

  “Can we talk?” I’d probably be getting mono-syllabic answers from him, but I wanted to know why he was here, why my dad sent him here.

  For the third time, he nodded.

  This man didn’t waste his saliva on anything.

  I placed my phone inside my purse and just as I was about to hike my right leg up to situate myself on the back of his bike, he
pulled on the hem of his shirt and took it off.

  Oh. My. Jezebels.

  I may not be able to see this guy’s eyes, but even in the scant lighting, the top half of his body was undeniably, irrevocably, the most beautiful work of art I’d ever seen.

  The corded muscles that rippled on his back weren’t the ones that you could find in the gym. He was bulky, but not overtly so. His upper back looked rock solid; I could probably bounce three quarters off of them and they would bounce right back, and his lower back was just as impressive. Even at his relaxed state, they rippled at their own accord. They did not grow his type of body on trees. If they did, global warming would not be a problem because everyone would be planting a dozen of those trees in their backyards.

  Without looking at me, he reached his left hand out, offering his shirt, “You’re cold.”

  I swallowed a hearty gulp, not because of the cold that he thought I was feeling. Earlier, while I was talking to Dyan, I had felt cold. Fall was just beginning and it had been warm over the past couple of days but tonight, there was a slight chill in the air.

  Heat crept up my face, “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not.” He negated, the firm set of his jaw was enough for me to put his shirt on over my dress. At another time, I would probably fight with someone like him, someone who had no business ordering me around about this, but I was feeling tired and I wanted answers.

  With both of my legs straddling the bike, he put his helmet on and handed me a smaller helmet. I noticed that his bike was larger than other bikes I’d seen and it looked like there was a small metal storage bin in the back where he most likely retrieved my helmet from.

  Without waiting for my consent, he slowly pulled my hands over and wrapped them across his naked chest.

  I may have wet myself just a little.

  I’d heard stories of women orgasming just by looking at hot men. I never had that. But if one could orgasm from just touching a guy, I may have proven that theory tonight.

  This nameless man with a body carved in stone and a vocabulary that would make the dictionary proud, all sarcasm intended, may have just given me my first ever orgasm.

  And just to think of it, he hadn’t even touched me willingly yet.

  One o’ clock. Ten yards out.

  The man smoking a cigarette outside the mom and pop’s convenience store, Luisa’s Corner, had looked at Athena’s pacing figure five times in the last ten minutes. He kept fumbling with his cigarette lighter, used his left hand to light up the cancer stick, stepped on the still-lit cigarette with his right foot and started another one. Behind the shadow of the concrete street post in front of him, I’d gauge him to be 5’10”, medium build, and an amateur.

  Whoever was ‘training’ him needed to tell him that when you were staking out someone, you had to be one with the shadows, not apart from it. Blend in, don’t try to catch attention by wearing the whitest shirt that could be seen a mile away. Be a part of the crowd, not setting yourself apart from everyone else so you’d look suspicious. He was following her footsteps the second she stepped into that frat party. He must have gotten his orders just a few hours ago. If there was any proof that Athena needed protection, the proof was right there, within the two-mile radius that I’d pieced together.

  The man in the convenience store was just one of the three people under orders to watch her. Until they were given a new set of orders. Judging from the appearances of these thugs, there were no other ways to describe them, because they looked like amateur thugs – the skinhead, their massive build, the 0.45 caliber pistols, manufactured by ATOMIC, mass of 12 g and could penetrate up to 410 mm, that three of them were packing – they weren’t there to enjoy the party. They were sent by someone to grab her the millisecond they got their orders.

  I’d tried to piece it together, but I was still coming up empty.

  Who would want to take her?

  The last time I spoke with her father, Joseph, he’d explained that he was studying a new way to preserve organs and the use of some sort of inorganic compound could change everything. He gave me the whole biochemical jargon when I asked the most important question, “Why would anyone want to harm your daughter?”

  He had simply responded, “Because the only way to get to me is through her.”

  He’d answered my unspoken thought with, “Webb, the research I’m conducting will change the way human organs are preserved. It can quadruple, maybe more, the amount of time an organ is viable for.”

  My silence must have clued him in that I had no idea what he was talking about so he’d continued in his non-judgmental explanation. “As of present, the human heart, once it’s taken from the donor, can remain viable for less than 6 hours; the kidneys, 30 hours or less; the pancreas, less than 12. The times can vary because of the relative speed that the deterioration begins in the organ’s tissues. Now my research, this substance that I’ve created, can prolong the storage times, preserving the organs at higher rates; thus giving more time for the medical community to transplant the organs from donors to recipients.”

  “What does this have to do with your daughter?” I had asked, while sitting in the leather chair I’d grown accustomed to since I’d been out. I remembered being tempted to go out for a surf when I’d caught the reflection of the waves from the mirror hanging over my desk at my mom’s house in San Diego. Joseph had taken a long sigh and with a surrendered breath, he’d softly uttered, “My discovery has many uses; it can be used to preserve organs, but it can also be used to hasten death.”

  My skin went on high-alert at his admission, “What do you mean, Joseph?”

  “I’m calling in my favor, Webb,” he’d hastily replied, then I heard the rustling on his end, with someone asking, “Are we still on for lunch, Dr. Bridges?”

  “I’ll talk to you in a bit, Webb. Please make sure she’s okay.” Sounding resigned, he added, “She’s everything to me…” With those words, he’d ended the call. Joseph was 110 percent sure that I’d take the job. When my ex-S.O. talked to me about the job, I couldn’t refuse him. It wasn’t like I was given a choice, but even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t even think twice of not taking it.

  As soon as I’d gotten off the phone with Joseph, I’d pulled all the files on his daughter – from her school records, her favorite places to hang out, which weren’t a lot, her schedule of classes, and her inclination to frequent and donate to animal shelters as indicated by her credit card transactions. I knew her life story before I even met her including the struggles and the multiple surgeries she had because of a rare variant of lymphoma. The astounding number of ER visits when she was barely eight could be three times the amount to what an average person would have in their lifetime. I’d expected her to be a half empty kind of girl, but from the very first time I saw her in the university cafeteria, I had a feeling that she was far from what her files depicted.

  She wasn’t a sad and lonely girl, waiting for life to pass her by, covered in the darkness of her past, engulfed by the uncertainty of her future.

  Standing in front of a frozen yogurt counter was a woman who took a bite of the mango-coconut-passion fruit combo and savored it like the first bite was the best thing she’d ever tasted. She’d been laughing with her friends and used her spoon to offer them a taste of what she was having. She shouldn’t be sharing utensils with anyone! What if they had diseases or a cold or something infectious? She shouldn’t be so trusting of everyone. What does she know of her classmates?

  After inconspicuously staring at her for five minutes, she and her classmates, a redhead and a brunette, made their way to their Sociology class and I couldn’t help but notice that they had garnered numerous looks from the college guys.

  If I was being honest, Athena held that quality that pulled the attention away from others so the only choice that made sense was to look at her. She wore simple clothes, but her radiance outshone everyone else’s; her dark locks were a stark but complimentary contrast to her creamy white complexion, and her
huge, hazel eyes were beacons to a man’s inherent nature to follow and stare at a beautiful face.

  When I was a child, my mom used to say, “In a roomful of souls, the purest of them all stands out.”

  All I had of her were words and pictures, derived from files and files of data. I thought I knew her…but looking at her, hearing her melodic, tinkling laughter, seeing her close her eyes when she stepped out of the cafeteria as the sun hit her face, a disturbing sensation took over me – she wasn’t like any of the others around her, she stood out. Without meaning to, without trying to bring attention to herself, she just did. There was an air of innocence about her, a thread of vulnerability that made me want to protect her, keep her safe from anyone who would try to harm her.

  I shook the feeling off just as soon as the thought materialized in my head.

  She’s a job, Webb. A mission.

  She’s not anything else, will never be anything more.

  “I’m okay…” She was saying to her friend, her voice sounding anything but, her back was stiff as a pole, her head shaking in the negative, her tone trying to reassure her friend. She was standing less than a foot away yet I could sense the shiver in her voice. She was scared. Maybe even terrified of what I’d just revealed to her – that her father had sent me.

  Dr. Joseph Bridges was a top-ranked, respected scientist for the CDC. He was the most sought-after bio-terrorism expert and had won the Nobel Prize twice, one in the area of physics, the other in medicine. His works were the bases for over ten percent of the pharmaceutical drugs developed and produced in the United States. The CDC created a program centered around his research in collaboration with the Department of Defense. He also owned millions of dollars’ worth of patents in the drug delivery system. He was a rock star in the field of science and there was always an air of reverence and mystery when people talked about him. I had known of him because when I was stationed in Panama, two of the members of my team were assigned to guard him. If that didn’t tell you how important of an asset he was, then the fact that the highest ranking officer of the U.S. Army drove him around would be enough to make you shit a brick. Navy SEALs as guards, a U.S. army major as the driver, and the President’s number on his speed dial, Dr. Bridges was a national treasure.