by Rye Hart
I stood on the sidewalk in front of Logan’s downtown Queens office, realizing that the voices in my head had once again taken over. It was more like a run-down brick building on the corner of an abandoned lot that needed someone to cut the weeds down.
I stared at the building with faint skepticism. For as much money Logan told me he made by employing bodyguards for the rich and famous, I expected a better building to conduct business. Cheap bastard.
The front door opened, and Logan stepped out into the sunny afternoon with a grin. He waved me over from where I stood across the street.
“Good to see you, bro,” he said, embracing me tightly. “It’s been what… two years now?”
“Yep. Two long ass years,” I said, grinning. “I’d say nice place, but it’s not exactly what I pictured for a business like yours.”
Logan glanced up at the cracked red brick building with a grimace. “I know. I’d like to move, but you know Jade is determined to live in Queens for the rest of our lives.”
“At least fix it up,” I said. “It’s about ready to fall over, or collapse on your head.”
“Do you have any construction experience you smug son-of-a-bitch?”
“No,” I said, laughing. “Good point.”
“All right then. Come inside.” He walked through the door, reaching back to hold it open for me.
I followed him through the front office that smelled like cinnamon past a young female receptionist who smiled up at me as I passed by. The tight shirt she wore pressed against her tits, outlining beaded nipples. How the fuck Logan got anything done with her sitting up front was beyond me.
“Who's the receptionist?” I asked when Logan shut the door behind me. I took a seat in front of a neatly organized desk.
“Jade’s younger cousin,” Logan said.
“I thought Jade was against the whole working with other women.”
“It doesn’t count if their family apparently.” Logan grimaced as he took a seat behind his desk. “Don’t point out how bad that is. You don’t have a wife to deal with back home.”
I held up my hands. “Backing off. What do you need help with exactly?”
“I have a wealthy client who needs to hire a bodyguard for his daught—”
“No,” I cut him off sharply. I shook my head when Logan opened his mouth again. “No, bro. I’m not going to chaperone some spoiled rich brat around. I thought you needed help with something serious. I’m not into the babysitting business.”
“I lied on the phone,” he said, plainly as he lifted his hands in what looked like surrender. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for the guy, but watching some rich twit for any length of time, even a few minutes, was fucking out of the question.
“I wouldn’t be here if I knew you were going to pull this shit bro.”
“That hurts. Just listen to the details of the job. It might change your mind.”
“I doubt it,” I said, wryly. “How did you even end up in this business? Four years in the fucking Special Forces and this is where you ended up?”
“I’m not happy about it,” Logan said. “Never said that it was sunshine and fucking daisies here, but I had a wife and a child on the way two years ago. I had to do something that wouldn’t risk my head getting shot at.”
“Not saying that isn’t honorable, but damn, bro.” I sat back in my chair in disbelief as I clasped my hands over my stomach. “How did we end up like this?”
“Too much death,” he replied, grimly.
I looked down at my forearms. Four fucking years in the Special Forces meant watching death up close and personal. I couldn’t count how many times I’d watch the life leave someone’s eyes. I also couldn’t count how many times I was relieved to see it too. It seemed morbid, sick now that we were out, but in the heat of battle, it was what we were trained to do.
Logan had gotten out of it the second he learned Jade was pregnant with their first child. At the time, we had lost two friends in a mission during the middle of the night. Too much death had a tendency to scar the soul in horrible ways. I didn’t blame him for ending up in a position with a business that didn’t involve guns, or terrorists wishing you were dead.
I studied the names I had tattooed on my arms over the years. Every single one of them had covered my ass in battle. I never wanted to forget them, but the last name on the list had the deepest imprint on my soul.
Tony Martin.
Four months ago, I had been surrounded by that God-forsaken country in Iraq. Then, it had taken one well-placed bomb to end Tony’s life within a matter of seconds. He had only been one step ahead of me. I still couldn’t shake those images of his body flying through the air in a spray of sand, blood, and debris.
“Harley.”
I looked up sharply at the sound of Logan’s voice. “What?”
“You’ve been going to get help, right?” he asked, cautiously. “You’ve been home for almost four months, and this is the first time I’ve seen you since Tony’s funeral.”
“Yah. It was one of the requirements my Mom set up when I came back,” I said, nodding. “I agreed to get help as long as she let me help pay the bills around the house along with treatment.”
“Then, promise me you’ll consider this job. I know your Mom could use the extra help while she’s in remission. She’s been in our prayers during her treatment,” Logan said.
“Thank you, that means a lot.”
“Remember Robert Carter?”
I frowned at the familiar name. “That’s one of the federal prosecutors who put terrorists behind bars, right?”
“Correct. He wants to hire a bodyguard for his daughter who recently graduated law school and is going on a trip to Spain.”
“How old is the daughter?”
“I believe she is—” Logan picked up the file in front of him to flip through the papers quickly. “—twenty-two. She graduated from Harvard a few weeks ago. Obviously a smart girl, so she can’t be that much trouble. You know Robert doesn’t put up with anything. I can’t imagine how strict the guy was on her – not to mention how much balls he must have busted all these years. In my opinion, this is easy money man.”
I rubbed at the back of my neck and sighed.
The last thing I wanted to do was leave my Mom while she received treatment for Stage II breast cancer, but our bills had to be paid. I had been discharged with honor, and a hefty sum to start early retirement, but my Mom struggled enough as it was financially. Growing up, we had no money, but she always made ends meet for us – and now it was my turn to step up.
The doctor I had arranged her to see was expensive. Damn expensive. Though, she was worth every fucking penny I could scrounge up - and then some. I’ve never imagined taking up a job like this, but maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea if it meant helping out with my Mom’s situation. I could swallow my pride and get through it.
The appeal to babysit a rich prosecutor’s daughter was not high on my list of things to do now that I had the time to do whatever I wanted. I had respect for Robert Carter though. While Logan and I took the bad guys out on combat through deadly force, Robert Carter put them behind bars for the rest of their lives as a form of punishment.
“How much is the mission here?” I asked.
“$500,000,” Logan said and laughed when I nearly choked on air. “That ain’t nothing compared to what some celebrities pay. That’s just your cut too. I’m not including mine.”
“Shit,” I exclaimed. “You could’ve started with that number.”
Logan grinned at me. “Good to know. Figured you might like this job since we’ve dealt with Mr. Carter previously from handing his reports for court. He’s a hard hitter, but you knew that, man.”
I nodded. Hard hitter was putting it nicely.
“My Mom’s receiving treatment this summer,” I said. “I have a feeling he wants a bodyguard for this summer.”
“Just for one month. All the travel expenses will be paid for as well along with the hotels.�
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“I’ll make my suggestions about Madrid,” I said, shaking my head. “There is some corrupt bullshit going on over there within that country. I don’t trust any personal guards there.”
“I take it that means you’re accepting the job then?”
“As long as I know you and Jade can help my Mom,” I said, pointing a finger at him. “I’m helping you, so you help me here.”
“Always,” Logan said, nodding. “Brothers are always first. No matter what. Here’s all the information.” He handed over all the papers. “I don’t know the exact dates besides that it’ll be in a week or so. Just sign and leave the contract here. I’ll call Mr. Carter to let him know you’re coming into Manhattan to speak with him this afternoon.”
I sat back in my chair. A headache pounded in my temples while I flicked through the papers quickly. Libby Armstrong. I glanced down at her photo attached to a piece of paper.
There was the best friend I’d be protecting too— the tall and leggy blonde with a sultry smile. I snorted. Abigail Carter. A timid woman with shoulder length brown hair and large frame glasses looked up at me from the photograph. She was small too. 5’3. 125 lbs. She could easily be abducted without a fight. It didn’t help her case either that she looked like a sexy book nerd with those glasses and innocent expression.
I cleared my throat at the last observation. Easy boy, Jordan, if you’re thinking of bangin’ a top US prosecutor’s daughter then you’d better be ready for another kind of war.
“Okay,” I said. “Call him up. I’ll be there within an hour.”
CHAPTER THREE - ABIGAIL
“You have to be kidding me.”
I stared at my Dad in disbelief as he handed off a case file to his paralegal. She scampered by me, well-aware that an argument was about to ensue. When Robert Carter got angry, all hell broke loose, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Yet, I could match my Dad’s angry voice tone for tone easily without batting an eyelash, and I would.
How dare he shit all over my plans?
He stood in front of the row of windows that overlooked the entire city of Manhattan dressed in a sharp navy blue suit with a crisp white button up my Mom had ironed for him this morning. His brown hair was peppered with grays, and a few faint lines covered the corners of his eyes, but he was sharper than ever. Age had never slowed him down.
“I’m not kidding you, Abi,” he replied, steadily. “I have hired a bodyguard to come with you to Spain. There's no argument about it.”
“You just want someone to tell you how I’m behaving,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. “You don’t think I know how to defend myself, or how to keep an eye out for trouble?”
“No, I don’t have any confidence in you for those reasons.” I winced at the harshness of those words. “You are incredibly naive when it comes to foreign places, Abi. You can’t imagine the concern I have for you. Especially with Libby tagging along on this adventure.”
“Libby is not a bad person,” I said, defensively. “She’s the only friend at Harvard who isn’t afraid of you!”
“For that,” he said, sitting down at his desk with a sigh, “I admire her for, but it’s already done. The bodyguard will be here any moment now.”
“You promised to trust me on this one thing,” I pointed out in exasperation. “This is the one time you promised that I could do this without someone hovering over me the entire time.”
“Things change, Abigail, and if we’re being honest, I do trust you. It’s everyone else in the world that I’m leery of. You’re my daughter, and when I’m concerned, I’m going to take precautionary measures to make sure you’re protected.”
“Protected against what?”
“I have taken on a case that involves a high profile terrorist leader who is currently in a US prison,” he said. “This man happens to mean a lot to his group of followers. They will do everything they can to get him back.”
“And you think that involves me?”
My Dad sighed heavily in exasperation as well. “Yes, Abigail. It does involve you because you are leaving the country, and I have a feeling you have posted your feelings about being away from me without any supervision.” He smiled thinly when I looked away guiltily. “That’s what I thought. This is where I feel much more comfortable having a bodyguard following you and Libby around Madrid.”
“I’m twenty-two, Dad,” I half-whined, not sounded twenty-two at all. “I can handle my life on my own. You’re being paranoid about everything as usual.”
“You’ve been a bit sheltered, dear. Your life has been lived in a bubble thanks to me and your Mom making sure that you were always within reach” he said, and at the look on my face, clarified, “I admit that I’ve sheltered you a bit too much, but I’m your Dad. I’m going to protect you as much as I can. Since I am paying for this trip, the bodyguard stands. Period.”
He had me at that and knew it. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk with a dejected sigh. Libby is going to be fucking furious. There was no changing my Dad’s mind once he was convinced of something. I’d have to deal with another bodyguard reporting things back to my Dad as usual. How the hell was I going to enjoy myself with some muscle-head leaning over the top of me the whole damn time?
Right. I wasn’t.
A knock echoed on the door before anything else could be said. I turned in my chair as the doors to my Dad’s office were opened. My breath caught in my throat when a handsome, muscular guy with short brown hair entered the room with an air of confidence about him.
Muscles pressed against the fitted shirt he wore, and I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in the front of his pants. It seemed like his arms weren’t the only thing he was working out. I wanted to snort at my joke, but my sour mood helped to hold back anything resembling playful.
His eyes, a forest green color, flicked over my Dad and me with an indifferent expression. He was tall, and easily towered over everyone. Tattoos covered the patches of skin that were visible. There was something irresistible about him. I couldn’t pinpoint it besides that my stomach fluttered when he raked his gaze over me sitting in the chair.
“Ah, Mr. Jordan, I presume?” My Dad stood from his chair to hold out a hand for the man to shake. “I’d like to thank you for coming to Manhattan from Queens today. Your friend, Logan, mentioned you were making the trip to meet with us. I appreciate that more than you know.”
“Thank you for seeing me, Sir,” he said, voice deep and steady. It was beautifully masculine and left something in my stomach fluttering around.
My Dad extended a hand toward me. “This is my daughter, Abigail. You have probably seen her pictures from the files I sent to Logan though.”
“Pictures?” I asked, shooting my Dad a glare. “You sent them pictures of me?”
“I apologize for her lack of manners,” my Dad said, crisply. “She is not pleased with this arrangement at the moment.”
I stood up from the chair to offer a hand to him. “Abigail Carter. Call me Abi for short if you want.”
“Harley Jordan,” he said, but didn’t take hold of my hand. He nodded at me instead and returned his attention to my Dad pretty quickly. “Logan mentioned you had some documents for me, Sir?”
I rolled my eyes when my Dad smiled, obviously pleased with being addressed so politely. The few bodyguards he had hired were rather brash, or impolite by his standards. Not that I wasn’t interested in Harley. My stomach did that little flutter when I caught him looking at me before flicking his gaze over to my Dad. He smelled like something fresh mixed with an outdoorsy musk. Manly. Delicious. Ridiculously good.
“Yes. These are your plane tickets.” My Dad thumbed through a pile of papers on his desk. “Oh, Julia forgot to give me the information on the hotel. Stay right here, Abi. Don’t go running off until I’m done talking to you.”
I waited until my Dad left his office before I turned to look at Harley. He stood rigidly in front of my Dad’s desk, hands clasped behind his back. It took hi
m a minute, but he finally turned to face me. He watched me for a second before arching his eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Look, I realize that my Dad is hiring you to follow Libby and me around,” I started, giving him a pointed look, “but, I’d appreciate it if you try to make yourself invisible as much as possible.”
“Whatever your Dad says, I will do,” Harley said, firmly.
“Right, but I’m also in charge over there,” I said. “This is my spring break and my last chance to do something fun before I commit myself to working at this firm. Understand?”
Harley chuckled, a deep type of chuckle of amusement.
“I don’t want to spend my time supervising you. Believe me,” he said, “but, this is what I’m being paid to do. So unfortunately for you, that’s all I’m going to do.”
I knew what he was thinking. Spoiled rich brat. I could see it in his eyes, but there was something else there too. Maybe? I didn’t get a chance to decipher it.
He turned away to focus on the windows that overlooked Manhattan, his shoulders stiff and back straight as a board. Ex-military. Had to be.
Gathering that our conversation was over, I gathered my things from where I had set them on the chair.
“Your Dad told you to stay,” Harley said as he glanced back over at me.
I slipped the strap of my purse over my shoulder. I gave Harley a withering glare, but he didn’t bat an eyelash. His face remained an indifferent mask.
“You’re not in charge,” I said, coldly. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell me what to do. It won’t go over well.”
I opened the office door, but it was Harley’s voice that stopped me dead in my tracks.
“I’m not in charge yet,” he said, “but once we are over there, you’ll have to listen to me whether you like it or not, sweetheart.”
Anger skittered through me at the cockiness. I debated on arguing with him, but it was pointless. My Dad had most likely already handed over a hefty check, so it gave everyone a false sense of authority. Except, there was something different about the way Harley said it.
