Kazak Guardians: Book III: Megan (Kazak Guardians Series 3)

by C. R. Daems

  "This plane is wonderful and the service outstanding, but I'm not sure it's worth five days in the hospital and weeks of convalescence," I said as I limped to the closest chair.

  "True, but now that you're here I can at least try to get the pilot to avoid all the pot holes and pamper you for a few hours."

  True to her word, Kathryn hovered over me the entire flight, fed me a five-star restaurant meal, and the flight was as smooth as if we were parked on the runway.

  "Thank you, Kathryn. That was almost worth the injuries," I quipped as I left the plane. A limo waited to take me to the Kazak complex where I spent another week eating, sleeping, and meditating. Lynn's secret, like the Kazak secrets Gabe wanted to learn, weren't secrets—just dedication and hard work. While recounting the fight to Witton, I realized Lynn's fanatical insistence on meditation had saved my life. When your mind is at peace, you can make those split-second decisions necessary to survive. Everything had been clear because I wasn't distracted with thoughts of dying, being hurt, or living. So I spent hours in meditation reviewing the assignment, the fight, and finding that quiet place of peace. By the end of the week, I was feeling better and bored, so I decided to visit Jody. Witton approved, stating my vacation would start after the visit.

  * * *

  Ann Marie booked me a limo to Reagan Washington National Airport. There I found I was in first class, and it was on the company's dime. The flight stopped at O'Hare Airport in Chicago, where a good-looking young well-dressed man sat down next to me.

  "Hi, I'm Jason. Are you traveling to Vegas?" he asked, followed with a gorgeous smile. And the rest wasn't bad. He had a pleasant angular face with blue eyes, straight nose, and kissable lips. He looked athletic but not muscular. He appeared to be around six-foot, which I like, since I'm five-nine. And he didn't have a wedding ring on, not that it mattered as it was unlikely we'd ever see each other again.

  "Yes. Are you going on business or to break the bank?" I asked with my own I'm-interested smile, which I've been told would make any man look twice. Of course, I wasn't exactly dressed to kill in my striped cotton hoodie and jeans, although they were of good quality and expensive.

  "Business, sort of. I'm attending the annual PGA Expo in Vegas. I'm a golf pro in Naperville, Illinois," he said. "What about you?"

  "I'm on vacation."

  We spent the all-too-short flight to Vegas evaluating each other. As we were getting ready to exit the plane, he took the plunge.

  "How would you like to meet for a drink or, better yet, dinner?" he asked. I would've bet from the look on his face that if I could have seen the hand behind him, he had his fingers crossed.

  "I'd like that. But not today."

  "How about eight p.m. tomorrow in the lobby at the Venetian Resort and Casino?" he said, handing me a slip of paper with a phone number. "In case you need to get in touch with me."

  We separated at the luggage area, as I had to retrieve my leather sports bag from security as it contained weapons—in case Witton needed me to go directly on assignment. From there I caught a taxi to the Bellagio Hotel where Ann Marie had booked a small suite. Normally I'd prefer a standard room. Why waste money when I didn't plan to spend much time there? But Ann Marie had insisted as the Committee was paying for it. I had to admit it was spacious and the view breathtaking from the fifteenth floor. This was the life I wanted: interesting work with plenty of time off and the money to see the world in comfort.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon by the time I reached the training facility, and Jody was getting ready to conduct the nightly critique of the day’s activities and answer questions when I entered the workout area. Eighteen women sat in a semicircle in front of Jody.

  "Megan! Lose another client?" she shouted as I limped toward her. My leg had mostly healed, but tended to ache by the end of the day. Of course by now she had heard at least an abbreviated version of my assignment. "And got all shot up in the process. Embarrassing."

  The candidates sat watching, wide-eyed, as she grabbed me in a bear hug.

  "Actually, I think the client paid some thugs to get rid of me. We didn't see eye-to-eye over the Lynn Protocol," I said, maintaining a thoughtful expression while nibbling on my lip.

  "What did Mr. Witton say?" Jody asked, as if interested.

  "He said I needed to be more like you and sent me for remedial training. So here I am."

  "Candidates, this is a good time to review the Lynn Protocols. Obviously Kazak Megan didn't give her instructors her full attention when she was in training. Kazak Megan, would you like to explain how you managed to disgrace the organization?"

  "It started when I entered Ms. Vansise's office ..." As I recounted the story, Jody used each incident as a training opportunity, questioning my reasoning and pointing out my use of the Lynn Protocols. After the evening meditation and the candidates were dismissed, Jody and I sat around talking.

  "I don't mind working with the candidates," Jody said, looking pleased. "It's rewarding and I feel like I'm making a real contribution. But I'm looking forward to an assignment as soon as this class graduates."

  * * *

  When I entered the lobby of the Venetian, I saw Jason sitting off to the side in a small waiting area. He stood when he saw me and waved. He had dressed casually, with a short-sleeve US Open dark blue pullover, white slacks, and tennis shoes. I approved. I wore a knee-length short-sleeve flared summer dress, blue with a V-neck almost to the waist, where it transitioned into gold and then faded to white toward the bottom, and a pair of blue sandals. My only jewelry was a rectangular Chinese mother of pearl gambling chip hanging from a smoky topaz beaded necklace. He must have approved, because he stood there for several minutes with his mouth open and eyes wide.

  "Wow! Sorry, but you look…gorgeous."

  "You didn't like my hoodie?" I couldn't resist. He stuttered and blushed slightly. I smiled. "Well, now that I'm overdressed for McDonalds, where are we going?"

  He shook his head and smiled. "I guess Wendy's is also out. So, lovely lady, what kind of food would you prefer: Italian, French, Asian, continental, steak, or something else?"

  "Italian, and I'll let you pick the restaurant," I said. He scored points letting me pick the cuisine, but since I didn't know what he could afford I'd let him pick where. He took out a slip of paper and scanned it.

  "How about Lavo?"

  "Lead on," I said and hooked my arm in his. The Lavo was a beautiful restaurant and lounge overlooking the Strip. This was going to cost him a pretty penny. Of course, I was worth it. After a slow dinner we went up to the Lavo nightclub. They had table seating, which gave us an opportunity to talk as well as dance.

  Jason was single, so he claimed. It really didn't matter—I was single and not breaking any vows—but I believed him. He was a graduate of the University of Ohio with a Liberal Arts degree. He had entered some small tournaments and done well but so far hadn't managed to earn his PGA tour card. He had attended Q-school several times and had managed to reach the second stage. He entertained me with highlights of the school and the wannabe pros he had met. Then it was my turn.

  "So what do you do for a living?" he asked.

  I lied. I'm proud of being a Kazak but felt the truth would make most men uncomfortable.

  "I work for a small security firm in Los Angeles. We provide security for large estates and for special occasions. Boring mostly." Except for uninvited guests with AK-47s and professional Assassins, I mused.

  "I notice you have a slight limp. Job related?" he asked, nodding toward my leg.

  "No. A recent car accident, and it hasn't healed completely."

  "Bad accident?" he asked.

  I made up a story about some drunk running a red light and then spent an hour giving a condensed version of my Kazak training into a few watered-down stories. In retrospect, there had been some funny incidents, if you looked at them as a spectator and not as a student.

  "Rough school," he said after I finished.

  "Yes
, but necessary when you're dealing with rich clients. You not only need to know what to do but also what not to do."

  "Like get in the way of a bullet?"

  "More like when to call the office and when to call 9-1-1," I said, producing a hearty laugh.

  "I notice you don't drink a lot. You didn't finish your wine at dinner, and you've only had two drinks here."

  "You don't need to get me drunk." I grinned. He blushed. "I'm more fun when I'm sober." In fact both of my drinks contained no alcohol. I had bribed our waitress on my way to the Ladies. "So unless you're planning on ditching me, we could retire to somewhere more private—like your room," I said and was rewarded with a goofy smile and several wide-eye nods.

  After he paid the bill we made our way back to the Venetian. He wore a grin all the way back. He had a standard room, which I approved. Why waste money when you knew you wouldn't be spending much time there? Just someplace to keep your clothes and accessories.

  In the room, I put my purse in the drawer of one of the night tables, knowing I would wake if I heard it being opened. Under my skirt, especially on a date, wasn't a good place to hide a gun and knife, so I had bought a purse large enough to hold one of each.

  While exploring tongues, we managed to strip and landed on the bed. There I relaxed as he kissed my face, eyes, and began working his way down my neck. He spent luxurious minutes on my breasts which produced a nice warm feeling that spread throughout my body. As he slowly worked his way to my stomach, my pulse quickened, and I knew I was ready. I felt like a nun who had left the convent after half my life.

  Before I knew it, he was at my groin, and I felt my body spasm. I automatically scissored my legs around his head and pulled him into me as I climaxed. Fortunately for him, I realized he couldn't breathe and let go. He knelt back, gasping for air. He shuffled forward and slid easily into me, then moved slowly as though I were a virgin. All too soon he climaxed but managed to continue until I did—again. To his credit he didn't collapse on me but rolled on his side, facing me.

  "That was nice, ready to go again?" I asked. He choked.

  "All right, if we can wait a few minutes."

  After seeing the look on his face, I laughed long and hard.

  * * *

  The next five days were fun. We usually skipped breakfast—after a late night and morning delight—for an early lunch at one of the casino's cafes. In between attending several seminars and workshops with him, we managed to drive out to see a few of the many surrounding attractions: the Hoover Dam, Valley of Fire, and Red Rock Canyon. Before dinner we sometimes spent a few hours in the casino. The slots were boring, craps too difficult to understand, and blackjack too fast to enjoy. After watching for a while, we settled on Pai Gow. When we sat down I dropped two hundred-dollar bills and got a stack of ten-dollar chips, which I split and slid half to Jason.

  By the end of the second week Jason was a couple of hundred ahead and me about eighty down. He offered to return my hundred and split the profit, but I refused. By then he must have spent a year's salary, although I'd wager he had no complaints. We were having dinner at the Hofbrauhaus when my cell buzzed with a ringtone that indicated it was from Witton.

  "Yes, sir," I said excitedly, knowing it meant a client. The time off had been wonderful, but I was ready for another assignment.

  "Megan, I know it's short notice, but I expect you in my office two days from now, at eight a.m." The phone went dead before I could respond.

  "He's not much of a talker," I quipped. "I have to leave tomorrow. The company has an assignment for me."

  "I also have to leave tomorrow. I'm going to miss you, Megan. I hope we can see each other again sometime. Illinois and Washington D.C. aren't too far apart—by air." He grinned.

  "I also had a great time and would like to see you again, but I travel a lot for my job. I'll make you a deal. If you plan to attend the PGA convention again next year and aren't attached, I'll try to meet you here."

  "Deal!"

  * * *

  "Megan!" Jody said, smiling as I entered the dining building. She stood against the wall, eating. She didn't move, just waved her sandwich.

  "Hi, Jody. I hear you got the best food in town." That received several snorts and one choke, spraying milk on two girls sitting across from her. Hi, Fredric, make me whatever Jody has, it looks delicious." That got another round of snorts and a few laughs.

  "I thought only Kazak Lynn was crazy, but you're all crazy." He laughed as he put together a sandwich and a glass of juice. I took it and joined Jody against the wall.

  Jody and I walked back to the workout building after the last candidate had left for the barracks.

  "You weren't so lucky this time," Jody said as we sat in the bleachers waiting for the women.

  "I was damn lucky. I'm beginning to understand why Lynn has so many scars—"

  "Because her rules make her the perfect target?" Jody asked.

  "Yes and no. She's at perfect peace, so when the shooting starts her reactions are a few nano-seconds ahead of her opponents. The result is she gets injured but not killed like anyone else would. That's what happened to me. I should have been killed, and I would have if my mind hadn't sorted out the issues and reached a decision without conscious thought. That fight was my whole life. Afterward, I realized I should have been terrified. Instead, I was on a high no drug could give you."

  "You're making me jealous. I'm not sorry I chose this assignment but, as crazy as it sounds, I'm looking forward to having clients."

  "Yes, it probably does to anyone but a Kazak. Clare has the right of it. The Hill wants all the sane candidates to leave." I grinned at the thought. Just then the women began appearing. Jody waited until everyone had settled.

  "I'm enjoying this assignment. It's interesting to watch these women...mature. We're Lynn's creations. Without her we wouldn't be Kazaks. If any of these women survive, they will be my creations. Besides, they'd miss me." Her smile was evil.

  "I'm glad you chose to take this assignment. You're as hard as Lynn, and they will need that if they have any chance to become Kazaks. I don't think I could have done half as well. Even those who don't make it to the hill will have benefited from their time with you. You were the right choice," I said, knowing it was the truth. I was a Wolf and the women would have sensed my lack of intensity and reacted accordingly. We were Lynn's creations but were still individuals. "They would miss you, Jody."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  NHL Player: Mr. Harkin

  "Well, Megan, are you all partied out?"

  "Yes, Mr. Witton. I'm healed, rested, and ready for an assignment. Besides, the Megan board is an embarrassment hanging there next to Lynn's, with only one complaint, from that crybaby Lieutenant." I managed not to smile.

  "If all of the women Kazaks are going to use Lynn's rules, I'm going to need assistants to handle all the extra work. If that weren't bad enough, some of the men have adopted her rules and my workload has doubled." Witton shook his head. "Oh, you received a letter of commendation from Miss Vansise. I've posted it to your board. That probably means more men are going to adopt her rules."

  "Maybe you could petition the Committee for convalescence leave."

  "I might have convinced someone to take this job before Lynn showed up. Now it's too late." He smiled. "Although she's a pain in the ass and does cause me extra work, she's made significant contributions to the organization. That's why the committee will be watching your and Jody's assignments closely over the next few years."

  "I thought you picked our assignments." I knew about the committee. They had gotten our immunity, funded the organization, were the sole judge of our conduct, and dictated who got protection. But I thought Witton picked the Kazak based on availability and our attributes—those that the Witch Meztlil had named us.

  "In most cases, I do. However, Lynn reacts differently to situations than the men, and she has had a positive impact on several of her client's lives. Her rules are invasive, yet most clients like the
m after they get over the initial shock. The Committee is interested in determining if it's some inherent attribute unique to women or just Lynn. You and Jody are their lab rats." Witton took a drink of his coffee while he sat evaluating me or maybe waiting my reaction.

  "How about lab puppy," I quipped.

  "Megan the Puppy." He smiled. "Then your next assignment should be interesting. You'll be guarding Doug Harkin, a six-foot-two hockey player for the Arizona Coyotes. He killed some fifteen-year-old gang banger in a bar fight two weeks ago. Fortunately, they've had away games. When they returned, he was almost killed the following night leaving the locker room. He was lucky a new security guard was standing at the rear exit opening the door for the players and trying to get their autographs for his son. When Mr. Harkin stepped out the door, the firing started. Harkin is probably alive today because the guard pulled him back into the hallway and locked it. He wasn't so lucky. He received multiple gunshot wounds and later died at the hospital. Harkin got off with only a minor flesh wound to his arm."

  "The team's owners have gotten the FBI involved. The FBI would like him confined to his house while they try to find who was responsible for the shooting. But Harkin insists he wants to play in next week's games and needs to practice if he is going to be ready. The owners are reluctant to allow him to play because of the potential lawsuits if someone gets hurt at a game or practice. But he's one of their best players and they will need him if they hope to get into the playoffs—the upcoming final seven games are critical. So, they have reached a compromise—you."

  "Because I'm cute." I batted my eyes.

  "Because the Committee, in their infinite wisdom, selected you. I wouldn't have if it had been my decision. I suspect the Committee is testing their lab...puppy."

  "Well, Boss, point this puppy in the right direction. Sounds like fun." It sounded interesting, following some hunk of a hockey jock around.