by K C Luck
I slide into the chair of the weight machine and take a deep breath to let out slow as I lift the metal plates when I hear someone coming up on my left. In the blink of an eye, instinct has me searching the mirrors on the room’s walls for the threat while assessing how I can swing from the weight machine to face my foe in a defensive stance.
“Captain Nassar,” the intruder says before I react. “I am here on urgent business.”
I recognize his voice immediately, although it surprises me. A high-ranking civilian aide to one of the most powerful women in the country, if not the world. I made his acquaintance on an exclusive guard detail a few years before. His sudden appearance on a military base in the middle of the night has me intrigued.
“Yes.”
The aide crosses to where I sit, and I notice he carries an envelope— one of those used for confidential missives. My curiosity peeks now. Although I am awaiting orders for my next assignment, receiving them through civilian channels would be most unusual. Still, he holds it out to me.
“I've been asked to find you and personally deliver this to your hands only.”
I take the offering examining the front to notice not even my name is on it. A very private message indeed. “Thank you,” I say. “You are dismissed.” The man gives a short bow and disappears back the way he came. Once I am alone, I slip a finger under the edge of the flap and pull it open. A quick scan of the contents both confirms the answer to one of my questions, but also only adds more. This document is indeed from the rich and powerful woman. The directions are clear—report to her immediately. The location for our rendezvous is a surprise though. Not at her mid-city office, her fortress of an estate, or even in one of the many buildings she owns, but in a somewhat questionable warehouse district deep in the heart of the city.
What is also not stated is the reason for the clandestine approach or the topic of our discussion. If there is a new assignment for me involved, it will certainly be unusual to receive it like this and from her. A brief thought of espionage crosses my mind. Even though I have ten years of experience with the guard, never has an assignment entailed undercover work. The possibility is intriguing. I realize this is precisely what I need right now to distract me from Alma and all the women like her who have misled me. Perhaps the assignment will entail working solo, where I will not meet any women at all. Particularly beautiful ones who have an eye for tall, broad-shouldered lesbian soldiers. One thing is certain though. The message requests my attendance immediately, and I know the woman asking for me is not someone I would ever want to keep waiting. Sliding from the leg press, I grab up my towel and water bottle before I jog toward the showers to start what I hope is a new and distracting adventure.
3
In an elaborate set of offices I never knew existed in this part of the city, there are six plush leather chairs in the waiting area. I’m too restless to sit in any of them. The receptionist, who acts as if being at her desk greeting visitors in the middle of the night at such a secret location is totally normal, was apologetic when she explained there would be a delay. An urgent business call from overseas came in unexpectedly. Of course, I understand completely. I am here to meet one of the most influential persons in the world. My time is minor by comparison, and I don't mind waiting under these circumstances. Typically, patience is something I take pride in. Still, it is all I can do not to pace the lavishly decorated space. The clandestine nature of the request is one thing, but my intuition tells me this will likely be a life-altering conversation. Professionally, at least.
Leaning against a wall, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly to keep myself relaxed. When I am called in, I want to appear calm. While I start to ponder again what this could be about, my phone vibrates in my pants’ pocket. Reaching inside, I glance at the screen only to see there is a text from Alma. Furrowing my brow, I unlock the phone to check the message and am surprised to see a very sexy picture of the brunette I fucked only hours before. She still wears the corset and stockings but has slipped one breast free to finger the hard nipple. Unable to help myself, I lick my lips, thinking of how it would taste. Damn her. Another text quickly follows. This time the picture is of her legs spread. Her hand is poised with just the tips of her fingers at the top of her lacy panties. Fuck. My body tightens in response. We really did have great sex.
“Come back,” the third message says, this time with no picture. “False alarm. He won’t be back until tomorrow night.” I clench my jaw at her invitation. As much as I hate the idea of cheating, the vision of punishing her ever so sweetly for her lies is tempting. Unlike our previous meetings where I submit to her leading me around until the moment I can’t wait and take her, there will be no teasing this time. No. If I go to her house now, she will see a new side to me. The one who takes great pleasure in holding a woman’s hands over her head, pinning her legs apart with my own, and sliding my fingers into her. If I go back there, she will scream her pleasure and feel me for days to come.
And then what? The only final answer is I leave knowing I have slept with a man’s wife while he is away, unsuspecting she is a cheater. I would hate myself for it, and I will not go back to her. No woman is worth my honor. With my thumb poised over the keypad, I consider how best to tell her to never contact me again, when the receptionist’s phone buzzes on her desk. Looking up, I darken the screen of my own phone before anyone catches sight of Alma in all her splendor and slip it into my pocket. There will be time to deal with her later.
The receptionist murmurs a response into the phone and then looks at me with a smile. “Captain Nassar,” she says. “She will see you now.” At last, my curiosity will be satisfied, and I start toward the door to the inner office only to have it open. The woman who summoned me stands there herself. Even though we have met once before, her presence is so commanding I pull up short. Although there is nothing in her simple black and gold Arab kaftan to suggest anything but business, her entire aura is one of sensual power. Exquisite to behold, yet with an edge of something more profound in her eyes. The image of a Bengal tiger jumps to mind, and I realize it is the perfect analogy. Everything about her is majestic, and I am left speechless.
As if sizing me up as well, we pause as our eyes hold. I could drop mine and probably should considering I am here at her command, but this is not something I take lightly. Deference is too often interpreted as weakness or submission, especially in my culture. I will never allow anyone to think me weak, no matter who she is. A moment later, a smile plays at the corners of her lips, and she nods. “Please come in, Captain,” she says before turning on her heel to go back inside. I leap forward to catch the door before it closes while out of the corner my eye, I see the receptionist hide a smile. Her cheeks show a hint of a blush, and I have a nanosecond to wonder what that might mean before I am inside an office larger and significantly better decorated than my apartment.
My hostess is at a sideboard near the curtained windows. Considering how high this building is over the other warehouses, I can only imagine the unique view of the horizon behind the drapes. Still, the need for privacy outweighs the benefits of what could be an impressive vista. I cannot help but wonder if, at times, she doesn't turn off the lights inside the office and stand there with the cloth pulled back to study all that she controls in the city below. Somehow, I think she may, but not nearly often enough. For all the power in the world, a part of me senses there is not a lot of time enjoying simple beauty in this woman's life.
The sound of glass clinking against glass draws my attention back to the moment. “Would you like a drink? It's been a long day so forgive me if I help myself, but there is brandy to share.”
Knowing that refusing would be an insult, I nod, although I rarely drink. I find liquor quickly impedes my better judgment. One small glass now won't be a problem, but I will avoid anything more else I blow whatever opportunity is about to be presented. She crosses to me, handing the small glass over. “Thank you,” I say with a nod, and she takes a moment to
tap her glass to mine before sipping. I watch as she closes her dark brown eyes and relishes the taste. Suddenly, I think perhaps I was mistaken, and there is more time spent enjoying simple pleasures after all.
As if reading my thoughts, she opens her eyes and regards me. There is no glimmer of attraction between us. Both of us are too assertive to be compatible as anything but allies, but still, an appreciation is clearly visible in her stare. “I have an assignment for you,” she says at last. “You can refuse, of course, but I have already spoken to your chain of command. They are willing to allow you a leave of absence from your normal duties.”
I raise my eyebrows. This is more than a little unorthodox. “I see,” is all I think to say. There is little I am not likely to agree to if its importance requires the middle of the night negotiations between such powerful military and civilian entities. Again, the hint of a smile on her face, and I know she is impressed by my willingness to patiently listen. In response, she walks over and picks up a manila file resting at the edge of her giant wooden desk. Holding it she leans back against the surface.
“You come highly recommended,” she says as I set down my drink on the bar and move to take the file. When she hands it to me, I flip open the cover. A picture of a breathtakingly beautiful brunette woman is the first thing I see. Everything about her face is sensual and seductive. The eyes, though, something is wrong there. A predatory stare leaps from the photograph, and I don't think I have ever seen a more dangerous looking stare. Captivating, like a spider’s web with a sleek and graceful black widow at the center. “Know her?”
I look up. “No,” I admit. It’s a face no one could ever forget. “But I feel perhaps I should.”
She nods. “Memorize it. That woman is now your number one foe. Georgia DeLane. The file contains the details you need to get started.” As she finishes, she picks up a second folder and hands it across. Even more intrigued, I take it and flip to the first page of this one. The face I see this time is equally captivating but gives me the exact opposite reaction. Ash-blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin. A more mature woman, older, who is no less beautiful but with understated elegance and the warmth in her eyes reaches out to touch me. I realize I could sit and look at this face for hours and feel nothing but peacefulness.
This time though, I know who the woman is, and I nod. “I recognize her. What is the connection?”
“Those details are all in the files, but to simplify it, if you take the assignment, I need you to work undercover on a protection detail.”
I look back at the picture of the blonde. “Protect her from DeLane, I am guessing?”
“Yes. She is being targeted and harassed. I am concerned for her safety. Will you help me with this?” she asks.
There is no question for me. I will happily serve in any capacity I can. “Of course,” I answer. I am surprised to see a hint of relief on the strong woman’s features. I realize this is more serious than just a guard detail, but again I wait. I am sure more information is forthcoming, and when she clears her throat, I am right.
“Very good,” she says and waves at a chair. “Then please sit down. I have more you need to know, but it will never be written in a file.” I sink into a chair intrigued beyond belief. She meets my eyes, and I see the tiger is back. “I instinctively trust you, Captain, so I will speak with you candidly, but this information is not to be shared. No one knows exactly why I have arranged for your assistance other than a possible breach in national security. It was a risk to bring you here, but time was of the essence. Do you understand how serious I am?”
“I do.”
She nods and then looks away, surprising me with this unexpected show of weakness. Whatever she is about to tell me is special to her indeed. With a sigh, she begins. “Going forward, when we speak outside of normal channels, I will be codename ‘Zena.’ Do not use my real name.” I nod to show I understand, but otherwise wait, and after a beat, she continues. “And now, let me tell you about the Lesbian Billionaires Club.”
4
Even as a seasoned traveler, I cannot help but be overwhelmed by the breathtaking vistas of snowcapped mountains peeking from beyond thick forests of white powdered evergreens passing by the windows of the jeep. It is the final leg of my transport to an exclusive skiing destination in the French Alps. This is where I will be staying indefinitely as part of my new assignment. I must admit, there has never been a duty station more magnificent to behold. From memorizing and then destroying the files Zena provided, I am aware only the ridiculously wealthy come here to enjoy the recreation. Add in the isolated location, and I understand why this resort was selected. A great hideaway. And hiding away right now is the key.
The night before, as the debrief with my new primary contact ‘Zena’ came to an end, she was very clear about the level of risk involved. I am not to take it lightly. Georgia DeLane is furious over the lesbian billionaires thwarting her attempt to identify them. Anonymous warnings of retaliation were intercepted on the Dark Web by another club member since the infamous night at the Hollywood Gala. These are being attributed to Georgia, and so far, have proven to be nothing more than angry posturing. Still, Zena believes the time is quickly approaching when things will come to a head. In her opinion, Georgia is not one to make idle threats. I would have to agree.
Even with little time to prepare, I am ready for anything. The rapid change in priorities is doing me well. Alma is nowhere on my radar now, and a quick, two-word text of 'no more' to her seems to have done the trick. I've also decided to swear off women. Not forever, but in the months ahead, or more. This mission requires my undivided attention. Love, or even lust, can take no part of my life, and I am almost relieved. Instead, I am focusing on the woman Zena insists I refer to in any communications as ‘Lila.’
Thinking of her, I reflect on the photograph Zena provided. It wasn't necessary really, as Lila is one of the most famous women in Europe. Although not in the direct line of royal succession, she wields great influence. Her circle of colleagues consists of people from all walks of life—world leaders, financial moguls, elite entertainers, and even Olympic athletes. She is most known, however, for her work with world medical relief charities. A quick search online and hundreds of pictures of her, in remote villages around the globe appear. Surrounded by locals, her sleeves rolled up as she helps in whatever effort lays in front of her, she seems capable of anything, all the while, her warm smile in place. It is an honor to be assigned to guard her.
I feel the jeep slow and return my focus to the matters at hand. We are arriving at the main lodge, and I am pleased when a sturdy iron gate bars our progress. A security guard exits the shack beside the entrance to greet us. The young man smiles, but I note a determined look in his eyes. This is not a job he takes lightly. He is not some employee appeasing tourists but working with a purpose. Perfect. As he and the driver make a quick exchange in French, I make a mental note of the name on the badge on his shirt as well as scan the rock wall security barrier in both directions to assess for blind spots. It is time to get to work.
“How far is it from here?” I ask the driver as he pulls through the gate to start up the long driveway. “I’d like to walk.” The man slows the vehicle regarding me with a bit of incredulity. Although I am dressed for cold weather and wear proper snow boots, I am here under the guise of being Lila’s personal assistant—not as her bodyguard. Certainly not as military.
“Walk?”
“Yes. To stretch my legs.” This is partially true. The hours of traveling have taken their toll on my long legs. Moving around is a welcome option. I also want to begin getting a feel for the landscape. Slow down and take in my surroundings. “Is that a problem?”
The driver shrugs. “Not to me. It's a quarter-mile uphill to the main building,” he explains as he stops the jeep. As I open the door to get out, he grins. “Don't get lost. If you lose sight of the road, the forests are thick and disorienting.”
I don't take offense. After all, I am just an assi
stant, and the man has no idea of my years of survival training in all climates. “I will be careful. Please tell them I will be there shortly.” With a wave, he drives on. Once the jeep takes a curve and is out of view, I pause and survey the area. He is right. The forest is only feet from the road and thick with evergreens. Snow clings to the branches making them look even more like an impenetrable wall. This can work both in my favor and against it. Access is limited to the main drive. I will check to see if other service roads are maintained on the property once I get the opportunity. The extra layer of security is welcome. Unfortunately, the forest is also an excellent place to hide an assailant, assuming she is willing to endure freezing temperatures and risk getting lost. I have a strong suspicion Georgia DeLane’s money could be motivation enough for someone to try. Danger could easily lurk there. As I watch, a stiff breeze blows up, making the branches sway as if agreeing with me. An enchanted forest? Considering where I am and the craziness of the last twenty-four hours, I would not be surprised.
With a smile at the rapid, but welcome changes, I pick up walking again. The road is packed snow, but my boots have excellent traction, so travel is easy. The higher elevation though… it surprises me how quickly my breathing is impacted. I will acclimate in a day or two, but I’d hate to try and run down an attacker right now. The best thing will be to keep moving, perhaps snowshoe a trail first thing in the morning to serve two purposes. More recognizance and more conditioning. Skiing is an option as well, and although I am proficient enough at both downhill and cross-country, I am no expert. Time on the slopes is not on my list of objectives while I am here. Not only would it be a distraction, but if I break a leg, the entire mission will be wrecked. Zena is counting on me, and I will not let her down.
