Unexpected Guardian (Skyline Trilogy Book 3)

by Willow Summers

Only Jenna and the assistants noticed Ralph’s “yesss!”

  And away they went, camera flashing. It was a play on teamwork, loyalty, and espionage. Jenna was randomly stuck in the middle, the token damsel. There was no way they could use these pictures for PR, but Ralph was going with it anyway. Eventually they were done, and the three of them were allowed to change and leave.

  “That. Was. Awful,” Jax said as they slumped to the curb to grab a cab. “Never again. I will quit before they make me do that again.”

  “I was close to wringing his neck.” Josh clenched his fists. “The shit he was saying to you, Jenna. All this time getting you to eat, getting you healthy, and that asshole goes and comments about it.”

  “You look better now than when I first met you, Jenna.” Jax squeezed her forearm with a kind smile.

  “He was doing it to get a rise out of you, Josh. You kept getting mad, which is what he wanted, so he kept using it.”

  “I agree with Jax. Never again.”

  “That’s what I said at eighteen. And here I am. I also said I was walking away from my misspent youth, yet in a few hours I’m headed right back to it.”

  “We’ll keep you safe,” Josh said easily.

  She wasn’t so sure they could. Not this time.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  That night Jenna, Josh, Erika and Jax sat around Jenna’s kitchen table, all dressed in black, looking at a map. The idea was for Jenna to go to an old friend’s shanty in the middle of urban hell and plead her case. Hopefully the bonds of loyalty would grant her something—best case, the problem dissolved, and worst case, there would be eyes and ears looking out for her. It was possible that too much time had passed. Her absence might have been seen as abandonment. A very real possibility.

  Don’s men were supposed to meet up with her and escort them through. There were a lot of bad goings-on in the Lower East Side, and they didn’t want a bullet in the stomach for trespassing.

  Josh and Jax were both geared up, calm and level. They were going into battle, and Jenna would be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge the hum of anticipation. Even their eyes were bright. This was what they’d trained for, even though it was on domestic soil, and they were headed in under the cover of darkness to use their skills.

  Jenna shivered.

  “Okay, here’s the thing, guys,” Jenna said to keep things moving, looking at Jax and Josh in turn. “It’s been a long time since I went frolicking in the sewers of New York City, but I still remember a thing or two. I’m hoping that once I get in the thick of it, I will know danger as it comes, so if I say something, you do it. It might sound weird at the time, but do it. Trust in my sense of direction and trust in the path I choose. Okay?”

  “Hooyah,” Jax and Josh said together.

  “I don’t like this,” Erika muttered.

  “Me neither, Erika. But it’s better than having endless hot dog vendors setting up shop around us.”

  True to his word, Don had called the police from the lobby. He watched as they showed up, walked directly up to the hot dog stand, and then gave chase as the vendor took off running. He was caught, as they usually were, and taken away in cuffs. The cart had two guns, exactly where Don had said they would be. It made Jenna wonder if Don had been a hot dog vendor at some point in his youth.

  The three of them would not be taking guns into the concrete jungle. They didn’t want to kill anyone accidentally with a traceable piece of hardware—traceable being the operative word—because there would be no discreet disposing of bodies in the heart of the ghetto. It was a dump-and-hump situation, as Josh had said—humping not indicative of gyrating on someone’s leg.

  To make up for the lack of firearms, Josh and Jax had large, scary knives attached to their person. Jenna had a smaller blade at Josh’s urging—he didn’t seem to care that she didn’t intend to let anyone close enough for her to need to use it.

  Leaving a crying Erika behind, they silently walked out of the apartment, down to the street, and then hailed a cab. As soon as they climbed into the vinyl seats, Jenna started gabbing merrily. She didn’t want three brooding, black-clad people noticed, and an overly talkative, and obviously ridiculous, woman always explained her silent male counterparts. The cabbie probably shut off soon after their getting into his space, if he bothered to care in the first place.

  Jenna had purposely tried to make herself look ugly. Her hair was matted, her teeth were wine-stained, she wore no makeup, and there were traces of dirt on her face. Josh laughed at her, saying a little dirt wasn’t enough to disguise her beauty, but an inspection in the mirror proved him wrong. Dead wrong.

  They left the cab three blocks from the meeting point, paid the fare, and found themselves standing on a street corner in the thick, noisy night. The streetlights weren’t as diligently maintained in this part of town, and the result was a depressing, and dangerous, gloom pressing in around them. Sirens sounded in the distance, adding to the chorus of random shrieks and cries, a dog barking, and a woman wailing. All ingredients for urban soup.

  Jenna closed her eyes, remembering. It had been countless years, a lifetime ago, since she’d stood on this block. Max had lived eight blocks away. He’d found her five blocks from where she stood, backed against a building with a raging, drugged-out homeless man stroking his dick as he advanced on her. She shivered as her brain skipped to the next memory: getting the first score on her own about twelve blocks away. Having sex for drugs a mile beyond that.

  She shivered in disgust. There were a lot of memories here. None of them good. She’d forgotten some, pushed others away, but they weren’t long gone. Smelling the dirty streets, the piss, hearing the cries and screams—they weren’t long gone at all.

  Jax had said she’d grown up in a life of luxury. A life of luxury, indeed. First her father. Now this. Whether she’d wanted it to or not, her hide-and-seek past was revealing itself one bit at a time, forcing her to face it.

  Jenna opened her eyes. Josh and Jax were looking at her, expressionless, waiting for the command to move. There was no time for emotional sabotage in this, and Jenna saw confirmation of that in Josh’s eyes.

  “Fuck it, let’s do this.” Resolve settled into Jenna’s bones. Erika was right. She wouldn’t cower. Not from a bully, not ever again.

  She started off at a brisk walk, not hearing the boys behind her, forcing herself to step lighter, quieter. To remember her street urchin days. It was there, the memory, firmly in her muscles, as if it had never left.

  They made the rendezvous in under ten minutes with no more than a solitary hoodlum sighting. The kid was up to no good. Neither were they. They avoided each other.

  There was less light in the meeting spot, the shadows cloaking an abandoned warehouse. Glass scattered across the ground. A mangled fence, long since stripped of its usefulness, angled away.

  “Left corner of the building, two of them,” Josh said in a low murmur. They flanked Jenna without speaking, ready to protect her.

  “I’m Candace.” Jenna walked to the corner. She felt the prickle of eyes, but no fear followed. Two guys stepped forward. Josh put his hand on Jenna’s arm, stepping in front of her.

  “It’s okay, Josh,” Jenna said quietly. She was in her element. She knew this. Trusted it.

  “Hard to use a false name when your picture is all over the city.” One of the guys had a thick voice. He was a big man, meaty. He had hammy hands and thick arms. His shoulders must have been as wide as Josh’s, though the man was shorter. Instead of muscle, though, he was rounded. He was a big but short block, the immoveable thickness of his body matching his voice. For all that, Jenna didn’t fear him. She immediately put her faith in him.

  “Just following instructions.” Jenna stepped closer.

  The man looked at her, verifying her identity with a nod. His gaze darted behind her, stuck to Jax, and then glued to Josh.

  “Don should have told you to expect them.” Jenna nodded to the guys.

  “He did. Expected
a bodyguard. Not this.” The man looked back at her, humor in his mouth but not reaching his eyes. “Chief’s idea of a joke, no doubt.”

  Chief? Jenna thought. She would need to ask about that.

  She surveyed the other man. Her height, just under six feet, and wiry. His muscles were stringy and fluid, lending to fighting. His nose had been broken, maybe more than once, and set improperly. This man had a temper; it was clear by his fast, dodgy movements. He made Jenna nervous. Unpredictability always did.

  The meaty man said, “I’m Scout. This is Gerry.”

  The wiry guy nodded. “Hi-ya.” He was Northern Irish, by the sound of it. Jenna relaxed slightly. It wasn’t unpredictability; it was a cultural difference. She’d been judging him with American standards—New York standards. It would be like saying a Californian was dumb because he was so laid-back. Which wasn’t always the case. Not always.

  “We shouldn’t have any problems,” Scout said. “Follow me.”

  Scout led the way and Gerry hung back to get behind. “Wait.” She looked at Gerry. His direct gaze met hers. “No offense, but I don’t want you at our backs. I don’t know you. Keep to the side or the front or not at all.”

  Gerry squinted as he looked at her, and then sought approval from Scout. He got a nod and shrugged. “Watch out for the beasties behind ye,” Gerry said to the guys as he walked up next to Jenna. “Nicer up here anyway. So, single?”

  He had a boyish smile and friendly, easygoing attitude. He was younger than Jenna anticipated. Probably twenty-four or five.

  Jenna refocused on their surroundings. They took detours, twists, and turns. At the fifth unexpected turn Jenna said, “Are you trying to get me lost?”

  “Nah, just avoiding drug traffic.” Gerry bobbed his head. “Stay to the side, you know? I won’t see ye lost.”

  Jenna held her silence, remembering their surroundings. If they had to make a break for it, she would remember most of this, although she would miss a turn or two. She looked back at Josh. His eyes were scanning the whole time, his body moving with the grace she’d come to expect from him. His gaze hit hers, lingered. He nodded, and then went back to his business. He would remember.

  By Jenna’s estimate they were about three-quarters of the way when she started to get that weird feeling. Something was amiss, but not yet dangerous. Her street-urchin self would get off this path, hit the shadows, and go another way. As she was with four tough guys, she ignored it for another block until the feeling strengthened and demanded attention.

  She veered into the shadow of a dumpster. Josh was beside her immediately, standing over her. Jax was closing off a path from Don’s men, taking up the slack. They were efficient, perfectly orchestrated, and absolutely excellent at what they did. Jenna had a new appreciation for SEALs.

  “What’s up?” Scout asked.

  “We’re being followed,” Jax said. “Someone behind, someone off to the right. They are keeping their distance, but they’re loud as hell.”

  Scout and Gerry both looked around.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Scout said.

  Gerry shrugged. “Want me to check it out?”

  “No,” Jenna said. “Let’s slip out to the left then head straight. Let’s hurry, too.”

  “Agreed,” Josh said as he steered her out from behind the dumpster.

  Scout didn’t like the change of plans. He looked around him, then back at Jax. “What did these guys look like?”

  “Josh?” Jax kept his eyes moving.

  “The one to the right was wearing a navy-blue track suit, white stripe down the side, fairly cheap material, not made for silence. Black shoes, probably in the fifty-dollar range or bought off the street. Curly, dark hair; impossible to tell the color in the shadow. Southern European descent, most likely olive skin tone. About six foot, medium build. Doesn’t work out, doesn’t overeat. I didn’t get a visual on the one behind.”

  “Fuckin’ Chief.” Scout huffed. “Who are you, Jason Bourne?”

  “We’d take Jason Bourne down in two seconds flat,” Jax retorted.

  He was being serious.

  The weird feeling got worse. “We need to go.” Jenna was near panic. She wouldn’t stay and fight in this neighborhood. She wasn’t suicidal. Her instincts said run, and she intended to follow them.

  “It’s your rodeo. Follow me,” Scout said.

  The progression started again, leading off to the left through a narrow alleyway around a moaning man on the ground stinking of urine and vomit. They slipped between two dumpsters and around the corner into brighter light. That wasn’t the way Jenna would have chosen, but a few lost souls wouldn’t be bothering this team of devils.

  Plus, Scout and Gerry were probably packing.

  “I’ll meet you there,” Josh said in a low, deep voice.

  “No! Josh, no. You stay with me.” Jenna clutched to his arm like a Band-Aid.

  “I’ll get rid of them, Jenna. I’ll meet you there. Nothing is going to happen to me. They won’t even see me before lights out.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend using a registered weapon in this area,” Scout warned.

  Josh looked at him steadily—not in challenge, but in assessment. The other man looked back, but he was putting considerable effort into not looking away, Jenna could see it.

  Gerry said, “I’ll stay with him.”

  “Don’t need you,” Josh growled. “And I wasn’t planning on putting them down for good. They’ll wake up tomorrow none the wiser.”

  “I’ll still stay.” It was Gerry’s turn to meet Josh’s assessment. Unlike Scout, Gerry didn’t seem to mind in the least. He was too full of testosterone to back down and too young for any belief other than his own invincibility.

  Scout, not wanting to lose time, said, “Fine. The rest of us, let’s go.”

  Josh’s arms came around Jenna, pulling her tight. His lips brushed her, sending sparks deep into her body, warming her.

  “You do what you do. I do what I do,” he said. “I’ll see you in a heartbeat.”

  “I can’t lose you, Josh. Please.” She clutched his chest.

  He kissed her again, quicker. “I’ll see you soon. Follow Jax’s command.”

  Jax moved her along, leaving Josh and Gerry behind. Before they were out of hearing range, Gerry said, “Lucky man.”

  Jax chuckled. “Doesn’t know you very well.”

  “Shut up,” Jenna whispered worriedly.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Josh watched Jenna walk away, with Jax close beside her. Jax would keep her safe, and Josh didn’t anticipate this taking too long.

  He turned to the Irishman. He was a spunky kid. It brought back memories of training and the excitement of the Navy. He’d had his whole life to look forward to then. It was a long time ago.

  The shuffling of feet sounded in the alleyway. That was one. Where was the other?

  Josh signaled Gerry, who didn’t have a clue what the hand sign meant.

  “Back. Up,” Josh mouthed.

  Gerry held up his hands at the anger in Josh’s stare and backed off. Josh took up position beside the opening of the alleyway, blending into the shadows. It was then that he heard footsteps from the street, coming from the opposite direction in which Jenna had disappeared. He looked back at Gerry, who was waiting patiently, and motioned toward the second incomer. Gerry squinted in that direction and caught on quickly.

  Bright kid. He might be helpful after all.

  Gerry slid along the wall to an area where the streetlight was out. Once in shadows, he stepped away from the wall, hitching his step to look like a drunk. He staggered back and forth until he reached the middle of the street. Once there, in the direct route of his mark, he seemingly became confused. Looking around in his make-believe drunken daze, he shrugged and settled for leaning against an old Buick, one of the beat-up old cars lining the road.

  Josh turned his attention back to his man, who had slowed ten feet from the end of the alleyway. He was just out of Josh
’s easy reach. Josh was no stranger to patience, however, and stayed still, waiting. He could hear the indecisiveness in the footsteps. Then the decision.

  As the man came through, Josh sprang forward silently, snaking his arm around the fragile neck in a secure chokehold, directing the mark’s eyes and body back in the direction he’d come in order to keep himself and Gerry anonymous.

  The man was smaller, lighter, and weaker. He also didn’t know hand-to-hand combat. It was no contest.

  Quicker than Josh expected, the man went lifeless. He wasn’t dead, confirmed by a quick check of the pulse, but he was out cold. The familiar waft of urine hit his nose as the man pissed himself. Hazard of the chokehold.

  Josh patted him down and found a switchblade and a gun. He took both, along with a wallet. If they were lucky, the man would think he’d been mugged. If not, well, they were no worse off for it.

  Josh melted into the shadows as the downed man’s comrade came into view. He slowed, sensing something not right, like an animal sensing a trap. There was something to be said for the instincts born within the grid of a dangerous city.

  Seeing the “drunk,” but not seeing Josh, the man sped up again. He was short and heavy. He put his hand in his pocket, probably where his gun or knife was, and did a bounce-walk up to Gerry.

  “Step away,” the mark said in an earnest voice. He was nervous, this one. Not a pro. Good news.

  Josh kept to the shadows on silent feet. He slid behind a car and walked slowly and quickly up the line of old, tattered vehicles. Gerry, ever the actor, straightened up, or tried to in the supposed drunken state he was in, and said, “’Cuuze mer?” in a barely understandable slur.

  The man moved a step forward to push Gerry out of the way. He’d just gotten his hand on Gerry’s arm when Josh made his move. He leaped forward, grabbed the man in the same chokehold, and squeezed his arm muscles. It took slightly longer for his lights to go out. This man didn’t wet his pants, though; he got to keep a little dignity.

  Josh let him fall to the ground in a heap. He took the man’s gun and wallet. Both getting mugged in the same location wouldn’t hold up, but if they went to the cops, there was no way to trace the attacker.