The Dragon Bodyguard_Silver Talon Mercenaries

by Sky Winters

  Damien looked away, processing the question. Ingrid knew it was no small thing to ask. And though she'd intended it as a distraction, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't very, very curious. Damien kept so much hidden, and she wanted in.

  "It's…not much of a story, I'm afraid," he said, turning his brilliant blue eyes back to Ingrid. "She was a shifter like me. And we fell in love, hard and fast. I was a lot younger back then, probably around your age. We got married and had all these big plans for our future. I'd been in the military before she and I met and loved the lifestyle. But she wanted me to settle down and get some normal job here in DC. For her, I would've done anything.

  "Eventually, she became pregnant, and it was the happiest day of my life. I couldn't believe I was going to be a father. It was overwhelming and exciting all at once.”

  I know the feeling, thought Ingrid.

  "The pregnancy was normal, and eventually, the day came for her to give birth. We went to the hospital, and all seemed to be going as it should've. But eventually, she began bleeding. And according to the doctor's, it just didn't stop."

  Damien closed his eyes and turned away. Tears formed in Ingrid's eyes, and she instinctively reached across the table and placed her hands on his.

  "And that was that. I went from married and expecting a family to a single father, all over the course of an hour or two. That's life, I suppose. It was bizarre at first; I had no idea how to even begin being a parent, let alone a single one."

  Damien looked away for a moment. Ingrid could tell that the topic was a difficult one for him to discuss, and she wanted to give him all the time he needed.

  If only he knew that he was about to become a dad again, she thought for a brief moment before dismissing the thought from her head.

  "But I made it work. However, I knew I'd never be able to do a ‘normal' job in the city. Working in some office all day, shaking hands and doing whatever it is these suits in the city do…I just couldn't do it. Not to mention that being a shifter, I'd always be an outsider, no matter how well I did at keeping the secret. So, I got in touch with some of my old shifter military buddies and we put together this group of ours. And that's been how it's been ever since."

  He took a sip of his sparkling water, and Ingrid could tell he wished it were some kind of booze.

  The waiter brought their food before either of them could say another word, and after they both took a few bites, Damien looked back up at Ingrid.

  "I can't help but feel like there's a reason for you wanting to get so into my personal history like this," he said. "Almost as if…there's something you want to tell me."

  Ingrid was stunned. How did he know?

  He's got me, she thought. No sense in keeping this from him any longer.

  But just as she opened her mouth to speak, Damien's phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out and took a look.

  "What the…" he said. "Sorry, I've got to take this."

  "Emergency?" asked Ingrid.

  "Maybe. I got a text from a number that the crew and I only use for emergencies. And now I'm getting a call. One second."

  Damien shot up from his seat and hurried off to a quiet corner. As he spoke, Ingrid watched him. It was still so strange to her that she was pregnant, and that this man was the father.

  Wait a minute, she thought. Does that mean the kid's going to be some kind of…wolf kid? Is he or she going to be a shifter like her father and half-sister?

  But before she could give the matter too much thought, Damien hurried back to the table, sat down, and flagged the waiter.

  "What's wrong?" asked Ingrid.

  "Not sure yet," said Damien. "But I've got to meet with the crew ASAP. Some kind of last-minute operation."

  "Oh," said Ingrid, realizing that the chance to tell Damien her news was now going to have to be put off, at least for the night.

  "And when I say I have to go, I mean now," he said, handing his card to the waiter. "I'm going to have to call you a ride back to the house."

  "Oh, no problem," said Ingrid. "I hope it's nothing too serious."

  "Should be fine," said Damien. "Probably just one of the guys having last-minute concerns about the operation tomorrow."

  But Ingrid didn't think Damien was entirely convinced.

  The waiter soon returned with the card, and Damien made a call for a ride. He waited with her out front until it arrived.

  "I probably won't be back until the morning," he said. "Don't wait up."

  He opened the car door, saw her in, and took off, shutting the door behind him.

  That was …odd, thought Ingrid. I know last-minute stuff like that is part of his job, but he seemed a little spooked by the whole thing.

  The car started off and Ingrid rested her head against the car window, her eyes on the passing city.

  I hate that I'm secretly happy that I don't have to tell him about…what's going on, she thought. This is all just too much, and after hearing about his past, I can't imagine that getting some nanny knocked up is how he imagined starting a new family. He's going to be so upset.

  She shuddered as she imagined that temper of his coming out again, how mad he'd be when he learned the news. Ingrid imagined him punching the wall, his handsome face a deep red as he told her to get out and never come back.

  It felt so silly to her, but she was lost. Getting pregnant out of marriage like this was something she never planned for, and the idea of being a single mother without a job was enough to make her feel like her heart might stop beating.

  The car pulled up to the house and Ingrid got out. As soon as she stepped onto the front lawn, something struck her as…off, like something wasn't how it should've been. The house seemed darker than normal, and looking in through the windows, she saw that not a single light was on.

  It's nothing, she thought. You're just being paranoid.

  She fumbled in her purse for her keys and unlocked the front door. But as soon as she stepped inside, she realized that something was very, very wrong. The air of the house was dead-still, and just as she thought, all the lights were off. She walked through the main entrance room, looking around as she did. Reaching for the nearest light, she flicked the switch, but nothing came on.

  "Is that our guest of honor?" asked a familiar voice from the kitchen. "Get on in here, young lady!"

  Ingrid's heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She walked into the kitchen, and there, she saw a sight she couldn't have imagined.

  It was Miller, the leader of the mercenary group she'd met at the ball. He was seated in darkness, a cigarette held near his face the only light around. To his left and right were a half-dozen mercenaries, all armed to the teeth.

  And to his immediate right, a gun pressed to her back, was Adeline, her face wet with tears of terror.

  "We were wondering when you were gonna get here," said Miller, a sinister smile on his face. "Now come on in and join the fun."

  CHAPTER 6

  Damien arrived at the designated meeting location, but he was the first to arrive. He waited in the empty warehouse just outside of town in one of the DC suburbs, wondering just why the rest of his men weren't there. Dread began to build in his stomach. But before he could get too worried, he heard the sound of cars and motorcycles come to a halt outside the place. Moments later, the rest of his crew streamed into the warehouse.

  Anders, now recovered from his injury, was the first to speak as the men formed up.

  "There's the boss man," he said. "What's the story, chief?"

  A confused look flashed on Damien's face.

  "Hoping you boys could tell me," he said. "I got a text on the emergency line telling me to meet here. So, who's the asshole who called this meeting?"

  The men looked at one another with confused expressions on their faces.

  "Wait a minute," said Smith. "Are you saying you didn't call this thing?"

  Damien's stomach tightened into a hard knot. He knew something was seriously amiss.

 
; "Just what the fuck is going on here?" he asked out loud, his voice taking on a hard tone.

  He was angry and getting more pissed off by the second. Something was seriously wrong, and he wanted to crack some skulls until he got to the bottom of it.

  Before he could fume for too long, however, another call came in on his phone. It was from the same number it'd been from before. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he answered it and turned away from the group.

  "Who the fuck is this?" he demanded, his anger now nearly at a boiling point.

  "Just an old friend," spoke a familiar voice.

  "Miller," hissed Damien. "What do you want, you miserable fuck? What the fuck is going on?"

  "Temper, temper," he said, his voice even and calm, not to mention a little cocky. "If we're gonna talk, then you're gonna need to calm down a little, my friend."

  "Tell me what you want, right now."

  "Always ready to cut to the chase," said Miller. "Now, if you're as good of a boy scout as I know you are, then you've got your laptop with you, right? Go ahead and open the bad boy up and check your email. I think you'll have most of your questions answered. Go on."

  Damien slammed the phone down onto the nearby table and pulled his laptop out of his messenger bag.

  "What's going on?" asked Smith.

  Damien was so angry that all he could do was hold up a hand, a gesture that said: "Not another word."

  He picked his phone back up and held it to his ear as the computer booted up.

  "Give me a little holler when you're looking at it," said Miller.

  Damien pulled open his laptop and saw that there was a new email from an unknown address, and that the email had an attachment. He opened it up, and when he saw just what the attachment was, he nearly flew into a rage like he'd never before done in his life.

  It was a picture of Adeline and Ingrid, each of them tied to chairs, their mouths bound with cloth. Both of their faces were in expressions of horror and fear, and tears streamed down their cheeks.

  Before he could look for too long at the email, however, it automatically deleted.

  "Not gonna give you the chance to trace that," said Miller. "But I think you get the picture."

  "Listen, you worthless piece of shit," snarled Damien, his rage boiling inside. "You let them go now, and I'll only rip you apart limb from limb."

  But Miller only laughed.

  "That's not how this is going to go down, I'm afraid. Do you need me to send you the email again? I've got all the cards here."

  "Then tell me what the fuck you want."

  "Something very, very simple for you. Just need you to sign a couple of documents. That's all."

  "Where?"

  "Address is coming to your phone. But write it down if you need to – that's also gonna automatically delete. Come at the appointed time. And come alone. I get the hint that there's any funny business, you're not gonna like what happens after that."

  Then the phone went dead.

  "Boss!" asked Anders. "What's going on?"

  Damien took a long, slow breath. His animal was on the verge of breaking free, and he knew that even though he wanted nothing more than to kill, kill, and kill some more, he needed to do his best to keep a cool head. His rage would only get him in trouble.

  When he was ready, he turned to his men and told them what the situation was. Once the men calmed down, Smith spoke up.

  "Then what's the plan?" asked Smith. "We're not gonna let this asshole get away with this, right?"

  A smirk formed on Damien's lips.

  "Not a goddamn chance."

  CHAPTER 7

  Ingrid struggled against her restraints, but to no avail. She was tied down tight, and she knew there was no chance she'd be able to break out of this place, and even if she could, what good would it do? Adeline was tied up somewhere in another room, and there was no way she'd leave without her. She had no choice but to hope Damien would do whatever it was Miller wanted and that Miller would hold up to his end of the bargain and let them free. But Miller had "untrustworthy" written all over him, and nothing he did put Ingrid at ease in the slightest.

  She looked around the dingy warehouse room, her eyes fixed on the tiny window in the upper part of the wall, the small rectangle of night visible outside of it her only connection to the outside world. Fear boiled in Ingrid's stomach as she remembered she was pregnant. It was still such surprising news to her, and she hadn't yet made space in her mind for the fact that she was going to be a mother. And that was looking like a big "if" at this point – Miller had no idea that he'd actually kidnapped three people instead of two.

  After a time, the lock on the door unbolted and two of Miller's men stepped into the room. They looked over Ingrid with sinister smiles before approaching her. Ingrid struggled against her restraints, fearing the worst. But the men only undid them and pulled her to her feet.

  "Time for the main event," said one of the men. "So, calm the fuck down; Miller doesn't like dealing with whiny women."

  The men led Ingrid to the main warehouse floor, where Miller and the rest of his gang awaited them. As did Adeline, who was there but still tied to her chair. The girl's eyes went wide as she saw Ingrid, and Ingrid's heart ached at the sight of the poor girl.

  "There she is," said Miller, clasping his hands together. "Now, I'm gonna le-"

  "Let me the fuck go!" demanded Ingrid. "Let both of us go!"

  Miller winced and held up a hand.

  "What I was going to say was, if you can keep the fucking yelling down to a minimum, I'll keep the restraint off your mouth. But if you insist on whining and complaining, then I'm gonna have to tie you down like this darling little lady here."

  Ingrid realized she had no options. And being tied back down with a dirty cloth shoved into her mouth was the last thing she wanted.

  "Fine," said Ingrid.

  "Atta girl," said Miller.

  Then he gestured for the men to bring Ingrid to his side.

  "Then can you at least tell me what's going on?" asked Ingrid. "Why have you done this?"

  Miller had a look on his face that seemed to indicate he was considering her question.

  "Fine," he said. "I suppose it doesn't matter all that much at this point. Damien's on his way, and once I get what I need out of him, this'll all be over and done with."

  Miller sat back on a nearby table and spoke.

  "This is a business matter, I'm afraid. And one that your ass got all sorts of mixed-up in. See, Damien's little crew is my main competition in this town, and there's nothing more that I'd like to see than him out of the picture."

  "Wait," said Ingrid. "Does that mean you were behind that attack? The one that nearly got Damien and me killed?"

  Miller smiled, as if recalling a fond memory.

  "Yeah, that was me all right, but get over yourself – you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The goal there was to kill Damien, and you probably would've just been sent on your way – after those boys had their fun with you, that is. But if there's one lesson I've had to learn the hard way, it's don't skimp on the goddamn help. I hired some low-rent shifter thugs out of Baltimore for that one and, well, you get what the fuck you pay for.

  "Anyway," he continued, his thugs watching him speak, all with the same smart-ass smirks on their faces, "I figured our boy Damien's just too tough to take out like that, unless I want to start a full-on war with one of the best mercenary gangs in the city. So, I figured something else might be in order. And lucky for me, underhanded shit is my specialty."

  "So that's what this is all about?" asked Ingrid. "Just taking out the competition? All of this just to make more money?"

  "Honey, there's far more to it than that," he said. "You saw those senators that I've been getting cozy with? They're all eager to enlist my services for all sorts of cloak-and-dagger shit they've got in mind. Damien, on the other hand, is a fuckin' boy scout. Only above-the-board jobs for him. But once he's out of the picture, then I ca
n not only make my crew the top outfit in the city, but I can make even more money doing the kind of, ah, wetwork that some of these sketchy congressmen are into. You know, the ‘rubbing out the competition' sort of shit. We tried it a little while back, but that fuckin' Damien."

  He shook his head.

  "Just too good at holding us off. So, that's why I'm gonna get him to come here, alone, and sign a few little contracts that forbid him from working on the east coast ever again. The way I see it, my crew can become the top outfit from DC to New York. And you and Damien can piss off for all I care. Unless you make me mad."

  "But…" stammered Ingrid. "You can't keep us here! You have to call this all off!"

  Miller raised his eyebrows.

  "And why would I do that?"

  "Because…I'm pregnant!"

  Ingrid didn't know why she said anything. She thought that maybe revealing this information would appeal to whatever kindness remained in this man.

  Instead, his eyes widened, and he slapped his hands together.

  "Really?" he said. "Hot damn! Wait until Damien learns about this! He'll be begging me to sign that fucking contract."

  The rest of the men chuckled.

  Oh fuck, thought Ingrid. I think I just made things worse.

  But before she could consider the matter for too much longer, one of the men posted outside entered the warehouse at a brisk trot.

  "Boss," he shouted. "He's here!"

  "Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Send his ass in!"

  The man nodded and left. Ingrid was so excited to see Damien she wanted to cry. She looked over at Adeline, who was still sobbing quietly. Ingrid, not caring what Miller had to say about it, reached over and took the girl's hand. Adeline squeezed back hard.

  "Aw, ain't that sweet," said Miller.

  Then, Damien entered, two of Miller's men at his sides.

  "Damien!" shouted Ingrid.

  "Girls!" he shouted back.

  "Ah, ah, ah," said Miller, wagging his finger. "Tearful reunions can come after you sign my little documents."

  Then, a terrible, sinister expression formed on his face.

  "But first," he said. "Have I got some news for you!"