Big Hard Bodyguard (Dominant Protectors Book 1)

by Jack Ellison

  I heard fear in his voice as he gave me the location. An old abandoned farmhouse out of the city. Not far. He paused, then reeled off a few details about Chloe’s captors, and Jean’s whereabouts.

  I wonder what Jean had said to him? He’s more scared of him than he is the Russians.

  “Right. Last favour. I need guns. And a big fucking knife.” I looked around at the blazing afternoon sun around me. “And some fucking sunglasses.”

  He gave me a location not far from where I was. He said one his guys would meet me there. I warned him not to fuck with me. That the consequences would be catastrophic.

  I doubted he would be so stupid.

  Chloe

  The car stopped about half an hour later, I guessed, though I had no idea of the time. I had bumped my head often during the undignified transit, and was slightly bruised and disheartened. The trunk opened suddenly, low afternoon sun blinding me. The bag was unceremoniously placed back into my head as I was pulled roughly out.

  I could no longer hear the noise of the city, however, and guessed we were out in the suburbs. Or maybe the countryside.

  I struggled to suppress rising fear. Axel was resourceful, but how would he know where I was?

  What if he hadn’t made it? What if he was…

  Steeling myself, I pushed the thought away angrily. I had to keep faith in him. It was the only way I could keep my strength. I didn’t want to turn into a gibbering wreck. I needed to keep my wits about me if I was to help Axel in any small way I could. Even if it was just by staying safe and unharmed.

  I was half dragged, half carried hurriedly across grass. I heard a door squeak open in front of me, and I was pushed roughly from behind.

  Probably Mr. Broken Nose. Hope it still fucking hurts.

  I was taken up a flight of stairs, and the bag was removed. I recognised my kidnappers. The guy whose nose I’d broken stared at me viciously. He approached, turning me roughly on my feet. I was facing a mean-looking Russian or Eastern European sitting on a plush office chair. It looked out of place in the dirty room that surrounded us.

  Looks like an old abandoned building. House, or farm maybe.

  The guy with the broken nose raised his arm as if to give me a back handed slap. The guy in the chair rose his arm. Broken Nose froze in fear.

  “Do not fucking touch her, you fucking idiot.” He rose to his feet. He was massive, well over six foot. Lean, not as muscled as Axel.

  He walked forward, and poked the guy hard on his broken nose.

  I laughed, amazed at myself. I was no longer afraid. It wasn’t in their interest to harm me. Not yet, anyway.

  Plus they’re all dead men walking.

  The leader turned to face me, amused. Then he looked back at his bleeding henchman.

  “You have already been fucking stupid once today. You let a little girl break your nose.” He laughed. The other guys in the room joined in.

  His face went dark.

  “If you are stupid once more today, I will feed you to the fucking dogs. And I will let her kill you.” He jerked a thumb my way.

  “Now, Miss. Please excuse my men. They are stupid. They know how to fight, and that’s it. I, however, will be civilized. If you are respectful, you will not be in danger. I have food, water, and a bed for you. You will not be touched. I will not allow any harm to come to you… as long as your father and I can… come to an arrangement.”

  He raised his eyebrows, smiling.

  “OK?”

  I looked up at his menacing face. He tried to put on a soft expression, but didn’t look much less scary. I nodded.

  He gently removed the tape from my mouth.

  I smiled. “That would be nice, thank you. I promise to be good, sir.”

  I looked down at my hands and feet. “If we are to trust each other, can I be untied, please? My arms and legs hurt.”

  He snapped a finger at his men. They complied, cutting the tape gently, taking great care not to cause me any discomfort.

  “Now, Miss. Please do not get used to making demands. I am fair, but my patience is short. This request I grant as a sign that we can be respectful to each other.”

  He gestured at a large mattress in the corner of the room. A handcuff was attached to a radiator behind the bed.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable. But please, do not try anything. I do not want to have to chain you up like a dog. You are too beautiful for that.”

  I felt sick at his gaze as he unashamedly ogled my breasts through my thin blouse.

  I walked over to the bed and sat down. I took a long mouthful from a sealed bottle of mineral water that was next to the pillow.

  The leader pointed to one of his men. “Vladimir. You are not to leave this room unless I am here. You are to keep this girl safe. If any of the idiots so much as goes near her, you are to kill them. Understand?”

  The man named Vladimir nodded, and dragged a plastic chair over towards me, facing outwards from the wall behind him. He sat down, arms crossed.

  The leader approached me.

  “Vladimir is my voice when I am not here. He is not stupid like the others, and understands the importance of our… negotiation. He is my most trusted man, and he will not allow the other idiots near you.”

  He paused, thoughtfully. “Please, if Vladimir tells you to do something, please do it. Thank you.”

  He turned on his heel. “I have business to attend to. I will leave you for a while. Please try and relax.”

  He pointed to one of his men, shouting in Russian. The guy shook his head. The leader screamed angrily, his hand reaching for a mobile phone. He dialled a number and waited. No answer. He threw the phone at his men, who flinched. They looked down at their feet, mumbling something I couldn’t understand.

  Well I guess their assassin didn’t get on very well. I fucking hope that’s what they’re talking about. Come on Axel, stay focused.

  The leader left the room with one of his henchmen in tow, following along like a trained dog.

  The other two stood at the door. Hands down by their sides.

  I imagined Axel sneaking up to the building, a gun in each hand as he crawled silently through the grass. I smiled.

  Axel

  I’d met the contact not long after finishing the telephone conversation, following the directions I’d been given. True to his word, a hard-looking guy wearing dark aviator sunglasses was standing on the corner of the street, nonchalant. I was amused to see he was holding an ex-army issue duffel bag.

  He didn’t look up as I approached. He passed me the sunglasses and I put them on. I swung the bag over my shoulder in one deft movement. I hadn’t stopped walking, and the exchange was smooth.

  I continued on my way down the street. The weight of the bag on my shoulder was comforting.

  If these guys betray me, or the guns don’t fire, they’ll be next.

  I’d done some work for my contact many years ago, had found a target for him who had fled to the USA. Turned out this guy was planning a counter attack, and I had stopped it dead in it its tracks. I had waited to call this favour in, never forgetting. You never knew when it would come in handy.

  My contact knew how mean I could be. How good I was. He wouldn’t dare fuck with me.

  I pondered the dilemma of how to get near Chloe’s captors without detection. The hotel was a no-go, the place was too hot. And the car was recognisable.

  I could go back to the airport and hire a car, but that was too risky. They probably had eyes there, and would be sending people out soon to look for me, when they realised their comrade was leaking his brains out on the floor of the hotel.

  Settling on a plan, I found a large department store. I walked around the block a few times, doubling back on myself. Still no tail. But I needed to hurry. The store was large enough for anonymity, and I entered the front door in a hurry. I quickly grabbed some clothes to change into, heading to the changing room to try them out.

  Once inside, I opened the duffel bag to check t
he contents.

  There was a .44 magnum revolver, big, reliable and heavy. A smaller 9mm pistol sat next to it. A couple boxes of ammo sat at the bottom of the bag. I was pleased to see a bolt action rifle, partially disassembled to fit in the bag. A simple, medium ranged hair sight scope was attached. All three guns were fully loaded.

  I checked the safeties were all on, pleased to find they had been clicked in place on the pistols. The rifle didn’t have a bullet in the chamber.

  The rifle only had one clip, with no spare ammo. Five .308 bullets, accurate and with plenty of stopping power. Only five, but enough to take down a few targets that were stupid enough to show their heads at any windows.

  Finally, a wickedly sharp combat knife nestled next to the revolver, in a tough rubber sheath.

  I purchased the change of clothes, and left the store quickly. Now, for Stage 2.

  A quick walk took me on a winding route. I still wasn’t being followed. I found a quiet-looking bar end entered, quickly ordering a whiskey. The effects of the few drinks I’d had earlier were faded, and I needed focus. One large whiskey would do the job.

  I downed it as quickly as it arrived, nodding at the bartender and passing him some money. I quickly changed in the grimy bathroom, throwing my old clothes into the trash can. I neatly tore a few strips off of my old t-shirt with my combat knife before discarding the shredded debris.

  Makeshift bandages. Just in case.

  I stuffed the strips of cloth into the side pocket of my recently purchased camouflage-style combat pants. A plain, tight, grey green t shirt adorned my torso, my massive muscles bulging through the thin fabric.

  At least camouflage is still cool, sorta. Should help me approach unnoticed.

  I quickly washed my face and slicked my hair back. With my change of clothes and glasses, I hoped I would be a little harder to recognise during my escape from the city. I took a deep breath and left the bathroom, exiting the bar quickly.

  I jumped in a taxi, the driver looking at me eagerly as I entered.

  I gave him a location near where I needed to be, a couple miles down the road from the farmhouse. I had decided on jogging the last few miles. It would be easy to sneak up on the house from there. The generously donated sniper scope would help, too.

  I sat back in the rear of the taxi as we sped off. I quickly ate the chocolate bar and downed the coke as we neared our destination. I closed my eyes, breathing methodically. In my mind's eye I visualised Chloe, scared, alone. I allowed myself a brief moment of weakness as I remembered the intense emotion I’d felt as we’d spent the evening together. The memories were distant already, faded by rage and adrenaline.

  Ain’t gonna let the girl go when she’s safe. She’s mine now. I need her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chloe

  Vladimir was a big, ugly boring ass. I tried to engage him in conversation to no avail. Amazingly, when the fear had faded, I found myself getting restless.

  “Your leader said you had some food. Please may I have some? I know I’m not supposed to ask but…”

  He looked at me. “Be quiet, girl. You will have food in soon time, OK. You are not…” He looked me up and down, cold eyes uninterested. “Skinny. It will be good for you to not be eating all the time.”

  I could barely make it his words through his thick accent. I frowned as he struggled with grammar, butchering the English.

  No wonder he doesn’t want to talk. Miserable, ugly old bastard.

  I smiled at him sweetly, patronisingly. Then sighed. I laid back on the mattress.

  Come on Axel. Get me out of this boring shit hole.

  A while passed as I dozed uncomfortably. Years of expensive mattresses and plush sofas had made most normal seats and beds tough on my back. I squirmed.

  If only Axel were here. I’d soon forget about the lumpy mattress…

  I wondered absently if Vladimir was right about my weight, as I dozed quietly. Pondering if I could do with losing a few pounds.

  Axel didn’t seem to mind my curves. In fact, I’m pretty sure they turned him on. Vladimir can fuck off.

  Axel

  The taxi made good time, and we were soon at the destination. If the directions I’d been given were right, I was roughly two miles from the old farmhouse. We had stopped at the side of the road, the taxi driver incredulous that this was where I wanted to go. Large, thick woodland stretched across the road to my right. Open farmland lay to the left. I could make out houses and barns dotted around the countryside.

  I need to get off the fucking road.

  I paid the taxi driver triple what he had asked for, making my best attempt to explain that he had never made this trip, if anyone asked.

  His eyes widened, then he nodded at me, a serious look on his face. I got the impression that he would take his vow of silence seriously, imagining me to be some top secret spy or a mob hitman. He wasn’t too far from the truth, with the latter. I didn’t feel the need to threaten him.

  I jogged into the trees as he sped off back to the city. A few more fares and I’d be a distant memory, anyway.

  The sun was fading into the sky, a red glow illuminating the clouds that hung low on the horizon. The afternoon sun was terribly bright, and I was grateful for the sunglasses I’d been donated as I jogged into the sunset, low sun occasionally peeping through the canopy as I travelled at a steady pace.

  My mind was now clear and I had a second wind from the whiskey, coke and chocolate. My blood sugar was up, and I felt good. Powerful and confident.

  As I ran, I focused my mind. I pushed doubts aside, turning my emotions off like a switch. Over the course of a half mile, I became an ice cold killer. Emotionless. Hard. After running for what I figured was roughly a mile total, I took a minute to stop and stretch out my muscles, going through a series of flowing moves that loosened muscle and tendons.

  I stopped to assemble the bolt action rifle, checking the scope and adjusting it somewhat. I slung the rifle back over my shoulder. My combat knife was already at my hip, the glint of the blade well hidden by the rubber sheath. I tucked the revolver into my pants at the back, checking the safety was on and the gun wasn’t cocked.

  The Tokarev I’d acquired from my Russian friend was tucked into the front of my pants. It was the only gun I definitely knew worked, and I needed it there just in case. I emptied the chamber and clicked the bullet that pinged out back into the clip.

  I held the black 9mm pistol in my hands as I ran, pointed down. Eyes roving the trees for targets. Both hands on the grip, steady. Bullet chambered, safety off.

  The woodland started to thin out suddenly and I saw the edge of the forest ahead of me. The trees petered out down to farmland situated in a long, flowing valley, a steep bank marking the end of the woodland as it levelled out down to the field. The arable parcel of land before me stretched out almost all the way to a big, old farmhouse in the distance.

  The road I had arrived on in the taxi had roughly followed my direction, cutting through the fields over to my left.

  I could make out a few figures standing around the farmhouse, patrolling. I ducked down, keeping a low profile as I approached a large tree at the top of the embankment. I clicked the safety on my 9mm and put it on the ground.

  I unslung the rifle and crouched down prone into a marksman pose, finger off the trigger. Left arm crooked at the elbow, large hand steadying the gun. Steady breaths minimized movement of the scope, as I looked down at the scene in front of me.

  A large, overgrown lawn surrounded the house. The whole farm looked unkempt, abandoned. Weeds poked through untilled soil. Wood hung forlornly off of rusty nails from dilapidated fencing.

  The approach to the house was open on all sides. I could crawl onto my belly unnoticed as far possible, but then would be exposed. Better to shoot from range first. There was no wind or rain, the air was still. I would only have to compensate for the slight drop of the bullet over the reasonable distance to my targets.

  There was an old fenc
e that separated two parcels of land in front of me, one adjacent to the road, and one set back to the right of the farmhouse. The fence ran from the edge of the treeline, up to an old brick wall to the right of the farmhouse.

  I decided it was the best cover I could get for when I approached the house.

  I shifted, perfecting my stance. Knees steady on the hard ground. Everything went still and quiet as I breathed deeply, looking down the scope. One of the guys was standing, smoking at the edge of the lawn. He looked bored, and was motionless.

  Sorry bro. You’re first. Smoking kills, y’know.

  I gently pulled the bolt action up and back, chambering a .308 round into the receiver and clicking the bolt back down in one fluid motion.