Brotherhood Protectors: GUARDIAN ANGEL (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Jesse Jacobson

The two began to walk away. Lindsay was wiping tears from her face as she walked. Sam stopped.

  “Give me a minute,” he said. He walked over to Rainhorse and squatted next to him, positioning his body so that his back was to her but also blocking the fallen man’s face. He looked back at Lindsay, then turned to Rainhorse.

  “I want to thank you for bringing Lindsay back to us,” Sam said. “Her mother has been worried sick.”

  Rainhorse nodded, “It’s been a tough journey. I’m happy it’s turning out so well.”

  “Not so well for you, though,” Sam noted.

  “I knew what I was signing up for,” came the reply. “I was prepared to pay the price.”

  “You’re the one who took her in the first place?”

  He nodded.

  “Why the change of heart?” Sam asked.

  Rainhorse paused for a few seconds, considering how to best answer the question.

  “From what Lindsay tells me, you two haven’t gotten to know each other yet,” Rainhorse said.

  “That’s right,” Sam admitted.

  “Spend some time with her,” he said. “When you get to know her, you’ll understand the answer to that question.”

  Sam nodded.

  Lindsay wondered what was taking so long. She started to walk back toward both of them, then stopped. She saw Sam checking the pulse of the big Cheyenne. She then saw him put his ear to Rainhorse’s mouth, presumably to check for breathing. Sam looked at Lindsay. He shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, Lindsay. He’s gone.”

  “No!” Lindsay screamed. “No.”

  “We have to go, I’m sorry. Follow me.”

  Sam began walking. Lindsay followed. After ten feet, she paused and turned back to Rainhorse’s body one last time. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out.

  Vandy had been waiting by the car, at Sam’s strong insistence. When she saw Sam approaching with Lindsay she burst into tears and ran toward her. Lindsay ran toward her mom as well. They embraced.

  “Oh, dear god, thank you,” Vandy cried out.

  “You’re an atheist, mom,” Lindsay replied.

  “Not right now, I’m not,” she countered. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but my friend is dead,” she said.

  “Oh, no. Steve?” Vandy asked.

  “No, it’s Jackson, the man who saved me from the kidnappers. They tried to kill me, mom—several times. One man tried to rape me. Jackson saved me. He got me this far. We were almost home.”

  “Where is this Jackson?” Vandy asked.

  “I’ve called the police and an ambulance,” Sam said, “but I’m afraid it’s too late. I checked him before we left. He’s dead.”

  Lindsay began to sob. Vandy embraced her.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let’s get you home,” Vandy said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  (four days later)

  “Thank you for coming to our Bozeman offices, Lindsay,” FBI Special Agent Johnson said. “With me is my supervisor, Special Agent in Charge, Jim Andrews. I’m going to switch on the camera now. This will be an official inquiry.”

  Andrews, a sixty-ish year old man with gray hair, nodded. Johnson continued.

  “Ms. Vanderbilt, Mr. Steele, thank you for coming as well. Who is this gentlemen with you?”

  “It’s my attorney, Frank Haddad,” Vandy replied.

  “There’s no need for an attorney, Ms. Vanderbilt. Lindsay was the victim here.”

  “No offense, Agent Johnson,” Vandy said, “but with my divorce and all the legal issues with my business I’ve had to deal with over the last couple of years, I bring a lawyer with me damn near everywhere I go.”

  Johnson nodded and smiled, “As you wish. If I may ask, where is Lindsay’s father?”

  “He was in Greece, on location, filming a movie,” Vandy said. “He’s on his way home now.”

  “Good,” Andrews responded. “Lindsay, I understand you’ve been cleared medically?”

  “I wasn’t hurt,” she said. “I told them that.”

  “I don’t understand why we are here,” Sam said. “We’ve given you our statements. If you had listened to me in the first place, you would have been on hand there at the end.”

  The smile disappeared from Johnson’s face.

  “We’re just trying to tie up some loose ends,” Andrews said.

  “What loose ends are those?” Sam asked.

  “Well, the man who allegedly saved Lindsay, for one,” he replied. “We have searched the database for all of Barnabas Quince’s known associates. We are unable to find anyone named Jackson, who meets your description. Are you sure his name was Jackson, Lindsay?”

  “He didn’t show me his ID or anything,” Lindsay said. “He told me his name was Jackson.”

  Andrews opened a file and pulled a photograph from it. He sat the photo on the table and pushed it toward Lindsay. Lindsay looked at it. It was a grainy photo, taken with a long-range lens, but it was Jackson, she saw. Clearly it was he. She knew this moment would come. She had prepared for it. Her face showed no reaction.

  “Do you recognize this man?” Andrews asked.

  “It’s pretty grainy,” she replied.

  “Not that grainy,” Andrews countered. “Is this the man that helped you?”

  She looked at it again. She felt her face flushing. She cleared her throat, “No, this is not Jackson.”

  “Are you sure?” Andrews asked. “This man meets your physical description pretty well.”

  “No, it’s not him.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded, “Yes.”

  “How about you, Mr. Steele? You checked the man’s pulse. You got a good look at him. Is this the man you found?”

  Sam looked at the photo. He shrugged, “The man I saw was mortally wounded. He was a bloody mess. I couldn’t say for sure.”

  “Look closer, Mr. Steele,” Andrews replied. “You were an Army Ranger. You’re a trained observer. Was the man you saw the man in the photo, yes or no?”

  “I’d have to say no,” Sam replied.

  “Why are you asking about this?” the attorney, Haddad, asked. “Don’t you have his body to compare directly?”

  “That’s a good question, Mr. Haddad,” Andrews said. “The answer is no, we did not recover the body. Mr. Steele, you testified you checked the man’s vitals and pronounced him dead.”

  “The man was dead,” Sam replied. “As you have pointed out, in the military, I saw many a man killed in action. I know a dead man when I see one.”

  “Then how do you explain the fact his body wasn’t there?”

  “How would I know? Someone must have taken it.” Sam replied.

  “Who? And for what purpose?”

  “I have no idea,” Sam stated. “I was there to save Lindsay and get her to safety. I did that. I didn’t spend much time worrying about anything else.”

  “Mr. Steele, the man we suspect to be the person calling himself Jackson, is a paid assassin named John Rainhorse,” Johnson said. “He’s a former Army Ranger, like yourself. Was the man you saw a former Army Ranger.”

  “How would I know that?” Sam asked.

  “Don’t know,” Andrews said. “Those things usually come up pretty quickly among you military boys, don’t they?”

  “With a dying man while bullets are whizzing by?”

  Andrews smiled, “Just wondered. I mean, if you did know he was a Ranger, you might be compelled to protect him—maybe even lie for him.”

  “I told you, I didn’t know,” Sam said.

  Andrews smirked, “I see how it is. I just want to be clear, here. I’m concerned that someone may be lying to protect the man who broke rank from the kidnappers to save Lindsay. If I found out that either of you are lying to me, there will be consequences.”

  “Excuse me,” Haddad interrupted. “My client is sixteen and has survived a traumatic experience. Mr. Steele saved her from certain death. It’s deplorable
that you would accuse either of them of lying. These men tried to rape and kill Lindsay Vanderbilt. She is not a criminal target, Agent Andrews.”

  “My apologies for my bluntness,” Andrews said. “But the message doesn’t change.”

  “You clean up your line of questioning or this interview is over,” Haddad said. “Do you have anything else?”

  “As a matter of fact, we do,” Andrews said. “Lindsay, I wanted to thank you for all the detailed information you gave us on Barnabas. It was very thorough and complete. How did you come about it?”

  “I told Agent Johnson earlier,” she said. “I kept my ears open. I listened to the men talking.”

  “And you did a fantastic job,” Andrews said. “So good, in fact, it makes me wonder if that information was somehow, I don’t know, fed to you, to serve up to us.”

  “Don’t respond to that, Lindsay,” Haddad barked, standing. “Gentlemen, this is outrageous. This interview is over.”

  “Have you caught Barnabas Quince yet?” Sam asked.

  “Net yet,” Andrews replied. “You don’t reach Quince’s level without having a few tricks up your sleeve. He had an exit strategy. It might take a while, but we’ll get him, thanks to Lindsay’s impressive powers of observation and recall.”

  “Save the snide remarks, Mr. Andrews,” Haddad said. “I intend to speak to your supervisor.”

  “As you wish,” he replied, seeming completely unconcerned. He turned back to Lindsay and smiled. “The good news is, with the information you provided, we’ve been able to completely neutralize his operation. We’ve already made a dozen arrests, including all his top lieutenants. Thank you for that.”

  “Your welcome,” Lindsay replied. “Can I go now?”

  Andrews nodded, “You can. Thank you for coming in.”

  They all stood.

  “Oh, one more thing, Mr. Steele,” Andrews added. “We are going to want to speak to you about your role. We are understandably concerned about vigilante justice.”

  Vandy had been restrained as long as she could stand, “Vigilante justice! Are you kidding me?”

  “Vandy,” Haddad interrupted. “Please.”

  “No, this is bullshit. Sam and I tried for an hour to convince Agent Johnson that Lindsay had been kidnapped and we were summarily ignored. If it weren’t for Sam, Lindsay would have been dead.”

  “I understand your point, Ms. Vanderbilt,” Andrews said, “but we can’t have private citizens…”

  “If you people spent more time trying to find the man responsible for all this, rather than…”

  “Vandy,” Sam interrupted. “Let’s just go.”

  Vandy, Sam, Lindsay and Haddad all took the elevator to the first-floor lobby. Vandy thanked Haddad for helping.

  “Do you think they’ll call us back here?” she asked.

  “I doubt it,” he said. “They have nothing. They’re fishing.”

  “What about Sam?” she asked.

  “It remains to be seen,” he said.

  “Thank you again, Frank,” Vandy said.

  “Paying my bill will be thanks enough,” he replied, winking. He smiled at Lindsay and left.

  “Who wants pizza?” Vandy asked.

  “I do. I’m starving,” Lindsay replied.

  “Good. I’m going to hit the little girl’s room before we leave. Lindsay?”

  “I’m good,” she responded.

  “Great, I’ll be right back.”

  She left.

  “Thank you for not busting Jackson,” she said. “I know you recognized him from the photo. It means a lot to me that you didn’t rat him out.”

  Sam smiled softly, “I know what he meant to you.”

  “Everything my mom has told me about you is true,” she said, smiling. “You’re a good guy.”

  “Thank you. I hope we can get to know each other.”

  “I’d like that. You know, I’ve been thinking,” Lindsay said. “When I saw you putting your ear to Jackson’s mouth, I thought you were checking his breathing.”

  “A natural assumption,” Sam replied.

  “But you weren’t, were you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was whispering to you, wasn’t he?”

  “I’m not sure what gave you that idea.”

  She smiled, “I learned a lot from Jackson, including the psychology of the non-answer. I’m right. His wounds were not as bad as you both told me, were they?”

  “They were pretty bad.”

  “But not bad enough to kill him, right?”

  “He was hit four times in the back. Sure, they could kill him. I have no idea what happened when we left, and that’s the truth.”

  “You protected him, didn’t you? By saying he was dead?”

  “He was shot and hurt badly.”

  “But he wasn’t dead, was he?”

  “It was a crazy atmosphere. It was dark. I suppose it’s possible that I made a mistake.”

  “He got away, didn’t he?”

  “I honestly do not know.”

  “He got away, I’m certain.”

  “Even if that is somehow true, Lindsay, he was in very bad shape,” Sam said. “The chances of him actually surviving are very sma…”

  “You don’t know him,” she said. “He’ll make it.”

  Sam paused. After a moment, he let out a breath.

  “You know, Lindsay, lying to the FBI during an interview is one thing, but if Jackson is alive and they ever catch him, you will be asked to identify him under oath. That’s a lie you don’t want to tell.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “They’ll never catch him.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  She didn’t answer. She just smiled. She touched the burn marks on his arm.

  “Do the burns gross you out?”

  “Not at all,” she said. “Mom was right. You’re a good-looking guy. One thing is for sure, after spending some time with you and Jackson, I’ll never be able to look at old guys the same, ever again.”

  “For better or for worse?”

  “What do you think?”

  Sam chuckled, “Talk about your non-answer.”

  “So, tell me, Sam the cowboy,” Lindsay continued. “What are your intentions with my mother? Do you plan to marry her and make an honest woman of her?”

  “Oh look, here comes your mother now,” Sam said, grateful to be bailed out of the conversation.

  Vandy approached, smiling. She gave Sam a long, warm kiss.

  “Gross, old people kissing. Go get a room?” Lindsay spouted.

  She wrapped her arm around Lindsay’s shoulders and pulled her toward them. Lindsay wrapped one arm around her mother and her other arm around Sam.

  “You two looked like you were engaged in a heavy conversation while I was gone,” Vandy said.

  “We were,” Sam said.

  “It’s true,” Lindsay agreed. “We’ve had a heated debate.”

  Lindsay smiled at Sam. He returned the smile.

  Vandy caught the exchange and offered a look of suspicion, “A heated debate, huh? Over what?”

  Lindsay smiled at her mother, “The critical unanswered question of the day.”

  “What question is that?” Vandy wondered.

  “Anchovies or no anchovies?”

  - The end -

  If you enjoyed this book, and are a fan of romance and cozy mysteries, check out Devil’s Face, by Mark Len Mayfield. If can be found on Amazon at the following link:

  https://www.amazon.com/Dane-Maddock-Devils-Kindle-Novella-ebook/dp/B0759S2F5L

  A sample chapter of Devil’s Face is included below. Enjoy.

  Devil’s Face: Sample Chapter

  Dane Maddock was watching a random baseball game on one of the flat screen televisions at Harry’s Oyster Bar on the Boardwalk when he saw Bones arrive.

  Harry’s Oyster Bar had only been opened since 2011 but carried a tradition dating back to 1897 when Dock’s Oyster House first opened in Atlantic City. Th
e name came from the original owner, Harry “Dock” Dougherty, and ownership has been handed down through the family.

  The bar was located right on the Boardwalk. The décor was framed in mahogany millwork with maritime lighting focused on a massive multi-tiered shellfish display and 20-foot marble slab raw bar.

  “I am gonna order myself a whole plate of the Wianno Cape Cod oysters,” he said, taking a seat. “And I want a bowl of clam chowder.”

  Bones flagged a waitress and ordered. He tried to be funny and flirty with the heavily-tattooed waitress; she was having none of it. He looked at Maddock and shrugged.

  “After losing five large I’d think you’d order something a little less pricey-spendy,” Maddock replied.

  “We live but once,” Bones replied. “Besides, I don’t have any money—you’re buying.”

  “I figured. So, where is this hot blonde beauty you were telling me about?” Maddock asked.

  He looked at his watch, “I told her to meet us here at 7:00 p.m. That’s only a couple of minutes away. Let’s not forget, you’re engaged to my sister.”

  Maddock smiled, “I would not forget that. Tell me about this woman, again.”

  Bones shrugged, “Nothing much to tell. I saw her watching me at the poker tables. After I lost my stack in a bad beat, she approached me. Said she wanted to meet you.”

  “A bad beat?” Maddock repeated.

  “C’mon man, who sits on Jacks when an Ace and a King come up on the flop and everyone is betting their butts off?”

  “I guess 50-year old Asian women do,” he said.

  “Whatever,” Bones replied. “It was a bad beat.”

  “And how did this woman know where to find you?” Maddock asked.

  “We have a mutual acquaintance,” a female voice from behind said.

  Maddock turned and saw Theresa for the first time. He stood. Bones had been right, he thought. This woman was stunning. Her wavy blonde hair flowed past her shoulders. She wore little or no makeup and certainly didn’t need it. She wore skinny jeans and a tight-fitting white cotton top that accentuated all the right curves.

  “Who shall I thank for the introduction?” Maddock asked.

  “Kaylin Maxwell,” she said. “She and I went to school together.”