“I relate,” he said. “Half the time we’re doing good just to stay alive.”
Sophia nodded, his comment striking the deep admiration she had for the brave souls who served as he did. She was about to say so when Blayze spoke up again.
“I never realized running for District Attorney was such a big deal,” he said. “If I didn’t know better I’d think your father was running for governor or something.”
She nodded. “Yes. But if you consider all the power DA’s have, it makes a lot of sense.”
“Last item of business,” he said. “You asked that I don’t discuss things with Roman or your father without you. Or at least, that I don’t withhold any information from you. I ask that you do that same thing. If something happens, you come to me since I’m the one hired as your protector.”
“Why would I be tempted to bypass you?”
He shrugged. “Same reasons anyone under protection does. They don’t want to be restricted. They don’t think the situation is as serious as it might be. They don’t want to admit it’s really happening…. Take your pick.”
She looked at him as an odd yearning brewed within her. A desire to know what Blayze Brockton was really like. What he’d been through in life. How he was coping with his mother’s death. “I won’t hide anything from you,” she said, the words coming out in a whisper.
He gave her a satisfied nod, and for a moment Sophia was satisfied too. But then something occurred to her. Something she could hardly deem fair. He’d asked questions about her at length, made notes about her life that looked like some foreign coding. But he was under no obligation to confide in her in return. Something told her that this mysterious man who’d agreed to protect her, to put his life on the line essentially, may remain a mystery to her until their time together was through. A wave of melancholy washed over her at the idea of never really knowing the quiet warrior sitting just inches away.
“Hey, Blayze?”
He was focused on his papers again, but as he glanced up, his handsome brow furrowed.
“Thanks for agreeing to do this.”
The smallest lift pulled at one side of his lips. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter 6
“I have to applaud these guys for taking action,” Roman said to Blayze. The retired detective had parked his cherry Corvette in Sophia’s driveway, and was carting his bags to the Rover. “Too often people fail to take threats seriously. By the time things escalate, they’ve missed out on a lot of valuable clues.”
Blayze squinted against the bright morning sun. “I can imagine.” His mind drifted back to the conversation he’d had with the District Attorney. Mr. Vasco had said Blayze could use the private investigators Roman worked with for help with the case. He figured he’d do so with the smaller, more simple tasks, and reach out to Sutton’s team with the more in-depth stuff.
“Hey, I wonder if you could do me a favor—something to do with that first package Sophia received.”
Roman’s chest puffed. “Sure, what is it?”
“I’d like a list of the guests who’ve stayed at the Maraddo Motel in the last two-and-a-half years.”
Roman pointed at him and clapped his hands together. “That’s not a bad idea. I already had them pull a more recent list, the entire month of September, which is when she received it. But it wouldn’t hurt to go back further.”
“Right,” Blayze said, glancing at the house. Sophia stood on the covered porch, hovering a water can over one of the many potted plants while her orange cat weaved back and forth between her legs. Why anyone had the desire to plant more stuff— amidst green grass, palm trees, and flowers lining the walkway—he’d never know. He guessed it was the instinct women had to beautify everything around them. “I think that since the accident happened over two years ago,” Blayze said, “maybe the motel card represents something that happened back then too.”
“Good thinking, vato,” Roman said with a nod.
Blayze had heard the term old soul used for people with more of a serious mind; but he sensed Roman was a young soul. Dressed in black, tattered jeans and a designer button up shirt, which displayed a skull with crossbones across the back. “How about we take it a little further? Say… six months before the accident?”
“Not a bad idea, man,” Blayze said, partly because it was a good idea and partly because he wanted a good rapport with the man. They’d be working together after all.
Roman held up a hand. “Put it here.”
When Blayze obliged, smacking his palm to Roman’s, the guy clasped his fingers around it and bumped elbows with him, reminding Blayze of his school days.
“Okay,” Sophia hollered from the porch. “Plants are watered. I’m grabbing my stuff now and we’ll be good to go.”
The porch door creaked shut behind her as the cat narrowly escaped a tail amputation. The animal seemed to make a pest of itself if you asked Blayze.
Last night, just after he’d got settled into the spare bedroom, the curious cat ventured right into the room and jumped on his bed, waving its puffy tail high in the air like a victory flag. Seemed just when the thing sensed it wasn’t welcome, courtesy of a few nudges through the covers with Blayze’s foot, he curled up into a ball and made himself at home. He figured he’d be stuck with the thing at his feet all night until Sophia scurried in to retrieve it.
The light had been low, bluish shadows really, but as Sophia leaned down to hoist the purring animal off the bed, a splash of moonlight spilled in. Her hair was pulled back, shoulders bare save the tiny straps of her night dress—a glowing white against her olive skin. Blayze had thought sharing his space with the cat was bad—lending his mind to the idea of spending weeks alone with Ms. Vasco was no easy thing to recover from either. He’d have been better off had she just left the cat in there.
“You know,” Roman said, leaning his back against the Rover and folding his arms. “Ms. Vasco is strong. She is. Not many days you’ll see her get ruffled. But that last package that came, with the car…” He did a quick check over his shoulder. “She freaked.”
“She was scared, you mean?”
Roman shook his head. “Angry.”
Blayze lifted his brows in surprise before checking over his shoulder. Any moment, Sophia should march back out with her arms full of items she wouldn’t want him to help her carry. He looked back at Roman. “Angry?”
He tore the sunglasses off his face and leveled a look at him. “Livid.”
But then it struck him—Mr. Vasco said she hadn’t believed her mother’s death was anything but an accident.
Roman shot a nod toward Sophia’s house, but Blayze had already heard the squeak of the front door. He glanced over in time to see her shuffle onto the porch in a set of high heels, her fingers gripping the extended handle of a small suitcase. She positioned it behind her while lifting a wardrobe bag high off the ground. A brown leather purse big enough to hold a small file cabinet hung over her shoulder and bounced off her hip while she walked.
“Excuse me,” Blayze mumbled. He got three steps in before Roman spoke up.
“Dude, don’t bother,” he hissed. “She doesn’t want help.”
“Too bad.” Blayze marched up the steps and, without asking, lifted the zipped wardrobe bag from her grip. Not the dangling strap of the purse that threatened to fall. Not the rolling case she’d have to hoist into the SUV, just the wardrobe bag. Compromise.
“No, I’ve got it,” Sophia protested, but Blayze was already walking away with it. He moved to the back of the SUV, flung open the hatchback and looped the hanger around the clothing hook.
“I said I could have gotten that myself.”
Blayze spun around, watched as she parked her suitcase and pressed the extended lever back into its nook. He resisted the urge to take that from her as well. “Sophia,” he said as she struggled to hoist the case into the back.
“What?” she grunted.
“Would you just let me help you, please?”
She
pinned the suitcase between the back of the SUV and her skirt-covered thighs, letting it rest there before she wiggled it in. “Blayze?” she said, stepping back as he closed the hatchback.
“Yes?” He walked Sophia to her side of the car, the steady click of her heels echoing along the drive. Though he already knew what she’d say, he opened the door for her and stepped back.
He lifted his gaze until their eyes met. Sophia’s brown eyes narrowed, the heat in them stirring something low in his belly.
“Is it going to be hard for you to allow me to do things on my own?”
He tipped his head, wondering if he should answer honestly.
“Did you feel an overwhelming urge to help Roman move his bags from his car to this one?”
Roman cleared his throat from the other side of the vehicle. Sounded more like a laugh.
“No, I did not.”
Her lip quirked the slightest bit before flattening into a line once more. “I know it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. And trust me, I know that gentlemen are in short supply. It’s just that— I don’t like being made to feel like the weaker sex.”
Please say he wasn’t giving in to an eye roll. Come on, Blayze, just nod and close her door. No, let her close the door. He took a step back without so much as a nod and strode around the back of the car.
“I told you, vato,” Roman mumbled.
“Yeah, well she already told me too—last night.”
Roman turned bug-eyed. “Then why—”
“Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.” Blayze climbed in behind the driver’s seat. The Land Rover allowed for more space than most. And after being sealed up in a tank for hours on end, or even a chopper, it was like riding first class. He strapped his seatbelt, hoping to restrain his irritation as well, and tugged the notebook from his pack. A quick glance at the schedule reminded Blayze that he had a call to make.
“You know,” Sophia said, “I wish I could get over my aversion to accepting help, but I just can’t.”
Blayze hovered his thumb over the phone number he’d pulled up on his screen. “What’s that?”
“I’ve obviously got issues to be so … adverse to accepting a little help.”
It took everything in him to stay quiet. To keep from saying something he shouldn’t, Blayze tapped the screen, initiating a call to the security department of the university they were headed to. The same university that would host the final event Sophia had said she wasn’t—under any circumstances—willing to miss.
Sophia scanned a small stack of typed papers, her lips moving soundlessly as her eyes scanned from left to right. Left to right.
She was practicing her speech, he realized. The mere idea caused a whole new knot of nerves to build up in his chest, the energy in the cab seeming to shift.
Blayze got the scoop on security at the venue. Several hot topics would be addressed by the group of diverse speakers. The local press planned to be there to capture highlights and interview the guest speakers once they were through. A much larger speaking event would take place that very day across town, where several candidates would address a similar crowd. The District Attorney would be at that event with most of the other candidates running for a title.
“Have you ever heard Ms. Vasco speak publicly?” Roman asked as they neared the university.
Blayze pulled his eyes off his paperwork, catching Roman’s gaze through the rearview. Blue sky and swaying palm trees glared back in the deep reflection of his gold-rimmed sunglasses. “Not yet,” he said, shooting a look to Sophia as well. “I don’t know how she even thinks about addressing big crowds. I think I’d rather be deployed again if I had the choice.”
“You and me both,” Roman said. “But really, you’re in for a treat. She’s good. Dang good.”
Blayze gulped. “I can imagine.”
“Gracias, Roman,” Sophia said with a grin. “Let me know how much I owe you for that later, will you?”
Blayze would be lying if he said his curiosity wasn’t piqued. The anticipation made the drive seem longer. It didn’t help that the traffic approaching the massive campus had slowed to a crawl.
A nervous energy hummed over his skin. Blayze was in charge of keeping Sophia safe among the chaotic crowd, but Sophia had a feat of her own to consider. People had gathered there by the busload. Scholars, professors, and news reporters. Extremists following the campaign trail would be there too, front and center. The other guest speakers included associates, managers, and spouses of those running for office.
Blayze wasn’t used to seeing this end of things. His mother, in her activist work, favored fundraisers, namely charities geared toward women’s rights. But it wasn’t rare for her to demonstrate support for a candidate she believed in.
Like the one who’d asked her out. Mom typically turned down gentlemen who asked her out, but she’d felt obligated to make an exception—something about the acquaintance who’d introduced them. When she came back that evening, Blayze, Chanze, and Jazmin were all lined up on the couch waiting to hear how it went. Mom began spinning some tale about the man being an alien in disguise. “It all started when I caught a hint of green alien flesh by his wrist…” The four of them stayed up until the wee hours of the night, sharing a box of leftover pizza. Boy, had they shared a lot of laughs that night. And many more over the years. Perhaps she was sharing a few good laughs with friends in the clouds. He’d like to think so.
“Okay, Blayze, I’m going to let you and Sophia out at this turnaround. Leave your luggage here. I’m going to drop it off at the hotel so it’ll be waiting for you.”
Blayze escorted Sophia into the building, paying extra attention to their surroundings. If there were a much bigger event coming up in this location, chances were he’d be on heightened alert that night. It’d be best to come into things knowing what to expect, maybe even bring Corbin in for backup, if possible.
At the entry, Sophia was greeted by an organized team who busily checked names, confirmed identifications, and got each guest suited up with a color-coded guest lanyard with their name printed on it. A small fan club huddled in the lobby got her attention with a few waves and the brave shout of her name across the busy corridor.
“We love you, Ms. Vasco!”
Sophia shot them an exuberant wave. “I love you guys too!”
Blayze tried not to get hung up on the declaration, but he couldn’t help but wonder how often interactions like that occurred. She wouldn’t want to encourage the wrong sort of behavior. Obsessions were common among public figures in general, but a woman who looked like Sophia was bound to get more than her share.
“You’re popular,” he mumbled.
“Not really,” she said through a smile. “Oh, there are the interns.” She shot the trio from yesterday a wave. Jane, Matteo, and Frank, Blayze reminded himself.
Sandwiched between dozens of guests and event staff, they filtered into a massive auditorium. The noise picked up there, the roar of jumbled conversation echoing off the endless windows, walls, and rafters. Blayze felt his stomach drop. If he took the amount of people who’d attended his senior class graduation and multiplied it by ten, it’d equal the size of the crowd Ms. Vasco would be addressing soon.
For the next hour, she rubbed shoulders with the other speakers, promising to talk with each more at that evening’s gala. The word commitment came to mind. This woman was committed to her cause; she had to be to do all of this.
It was like a giant, indoor football stadium with two-thirds of the ground level filled with seating, leaving that one third available for the speaking guests. Since Sophia would be sitting on stage, Blayze had been shown to the tech room. A continuation of the rectangular stage surrounded by portable walls. It was dark, save the glaring monitors and flashing lights dotting the control panels.
Once the program started, Blayze stood against a far wall, monitoring the goings on through the multiple angles captured on screens ahead. While a crew of a dozen people or so sat up to the control ta
ble, Blayze spotted a few fellow guards waiting in the wings, arms folded, checking their phones and watching the clock.
A printed version of the program had been taped to the wall along the back. Blayze watched as the hour ticked on, his stomach turning in a million knots. He was sure to be in more turmoil than she was.
A last-minute schedule change pushed her up one space, and before he knew it, they were introducing the San Bernardino District Attorney’s daughter. A list of accomplishments reminded Blayze that she was a training specialist at the immigration office, who was simply taking leave to support her father in his candidacy. And what was this—she’d published a book on activism among immigrant families? This woman was growing more intimidating by the minute.
At last, Sophia approached the pulpit, thanking first the professor who introduced her, and then her audience. “It is truly a privilege to be here today…”
While tucked behind the scenes, Blayze watched Sophia warm the crowd with a tale about her late mother and grandmother. Their touching journey to America—the struggles they faced, the sacrifices they made, and the victories that followed.
“Some of you might have heard of my father, District Attorney Nicolas Vasco,” she said, shifting gears. The fans made themselves known with scattered applause and cheers. “You might have even heard him relay the story of how his grandfather came to this land with an unquenchable fire in his heart and an undying dream in his soul. Ladies and gentleman, that is what our great country is about. Equal opportunity for male or female. Immigrant and native. Rich or poor.”
The crowd roared as she paused, nodded. “But what my father recognized during his service as District Attorney, is that the rich and poor aren’t getting treated as equals at all. Back in April, two men were charged with the same low-level, non-violent offense. Charged – not convicted. Cash bail was set for each. The first guy, let’s call him Tom, had the money. So, he paid it, and lived his life uninterrupted until he had his day in court three months later. Lucky for Tom—he had money. But the next guy, Adam, he wasn’t so lucky. See, Adam was barely scraping by as a single parent supporting three kids. And just because he didn’t have the money to put up like Tom, Adam spent the next two months in jail.”
The Honorable Warrior Page 4
