Cocky Protector: A Hero Club Novel

by Kat Mizera

  I shut the door and stood in front of his desk, wondering if I was getting the can or a reprimand or something else.

  “Have a seat.” He met my gaze with a look I couldn’t read so I sat down and stared back. I wasn’t afraid of the asshole, but I needed one more year to get my pension, and while I didn’t really need the money, the benefits were good.

  “What’s your relationship to the Queen of Limaj?” he asked abruptly.

  I frowned. “Um, childhood friend. I think we made out once or twice when we were teenagers. Now she’s married to a king who happens to be a friend of mine. Why?”

  “Can you get close to her?”

  “Close? Close as in…sleep with her? Talk to her? What kind of close are we talking?”

  “Close as in, her inner circle.”

  “I’m already in her inner circle,” I replied, holding back a scowl. “What’s this about?”

  “We believe the government there is in the process of putting together an intelligence agency and I need intel on that.”

  “I can give it to you,” I said, leaning back in my chair and relaxing now that I knew this wasn’t about me. “They are. It’s not a secret.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  He blew out a breath. “I need you to find out why and who’s running it.”

  “Sir, those things aren’t secrets. I already know the answers and they don’t have any problem with me telling you. The king himself is putting it together, with help from Prince Sandor and Joe Westfield.”

  “Fucking Westfield. He was a pain in my ass when he was a Marine, more of a pain in the ass when he worked for us, and now that he’s in the private sector, I want to cut his balls off.”

  I decided to sit back and let him vent. Joe Westfield was one of my closest friends and confidants. “Is there a reason for you wanting to know this? They’re just trying to protect themselves.”

  “We don’t want them forming another intelligence agency. They’re too close to both Russia and the Middle East. It makes them vulnerable.”

  Okay, that was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard. “Sir, they want to be our allies. King Erik has been rebuilding the country since he took power early this year, and the only reason he hasn’t sent an ambassador over here is because he doesn’t have enough people he trusts in his organization yet.”

  “Precisely. Now he’s forming an intelligence agency—with those same people he can’t necessarily trust. I need you to stop it.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” I was probably kissing my pension goodbye, but it really wasn’t up to me. I knew Erik well enough to know he wasn’t going to take direction from the CIA or any other foreign power.

  “Are you refusing an order?” His eyes narrowed.

  “No, sir. I’m telling you the facts. Erik needs intelligence to help protect himself and his people. He’s not going to stop doing what he’s doing because you, or I, said so.”

  “Your job is to convince him. One way or another.”

  Our eyes met across the desk and I didn’t even blink. “What does that mean? I’m not going to kill the King of Limaj. He’s my friend and his people are our allies.”

  “They’re no one’s allies right now. They’re a lone entity trying to rebuild trust and relationships. Until they do, they can’t be trusted in the espionage world.”

  “So what are my orders, exactly?”

  “To get King Erik to stop what he’s doing and focus on building the government. In five years, we can revisit this.”

  “Sir, this sounds more like something for the State Department, not intelligence.”

  “State disagrees, and we work at the pleasure of and under the direction of the President.”

  Holy shit, this was a big fucking deal.

  “I’ll do my best, but I can tell you he’s not going to change his plans at the directive of the United States. Considering his prior relationship with the agency, I’d think you would talk to him yourself.”

  “Those aren’t my orders. Or yours. That’s all.” He picked up the phone on his desk and I was dismissed.

  Fuck.

  I headed out to my car and called Erik.

  “Ace. How’s it going?” The King of Limaj, a small eastern European country that bordered the Middle East, Turkey and Georgia, was a good friend. Almost like family, though I wouldn’t tell Director Dickhead that.

  “I need to talk to you. Can you send the jet for me? I need to get to you sooner rather than later.”

  “We’re actually in Vegas for a few weeks. Can you get here commercially or do you still need me to send the jet?”

  “I’m good. See you tomorrow.” I disconnected. He knew me well enough to know if I wasn’t talking about it on the phone, there was a reason.

  I met with Erik the next day and he was as pissed as I’d expected him to be.

  “The CIA has no say in what I do with my country,” he grumbled, twirling a snifter of brandy between his fingers. “Do you think they know something we don’t? About traitors within Parliament and/or our military?”

  I shrugged. “If they do, it’s news to me, but obviously they only tell me what they think I need to know.”

  “I appreciate the heads-up,” Erik said, “but I’m not putting my plans on hold. The CIA can kiss my ass.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “But what about you? What happens to you if you don’t get me to stop?”

  “I’m trying to hang in there for one more year, to get my pension, but it’s not the end of the world if I don’t. I’ve got a trust fund from my dad, and I know a European king who’d probably be willing to give my sorry ass a job.”

  Erik grinned. “Any time, my friend. Any time.”

  “In the meantime, if you wanted to buy me some time, keep your plans under wraps. You can keep things quiet while you’re in the planning stages.”

  “I can.” He nodded. “And I’m happy to do that for you. What are you doing next?”

  “Actually, I’m on assignment.” I grinned back at him. “I’m trying to convince the King of Limaj to put his plans to build an intelligence agency on hold.”

  “Oh, wow.” Erik raised his eyebrows as if he had no idea what I was talking about. “Well, good luck with that. He’s probably not going to cooperate, so it might take a while.”

  I laughed. “I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter Two

  Shannon

  I loved my job, but some days were harder than others. Today was one of those days I couldn’t wait to get home, run myself a bath and pour a glass of wine. My students had been restless, the staff meeting endless, and I’d lost my favorite pair of gloves. The last year had been lovely but the three years before that had been hell, between my disaster of a marriage and losing my dad. The opportunity to teach high school level English at an exclusive private school in Cologne, Germany, had been just what I needed. Peace and quiet in my personal life, a job I loved, and malleable teenagers to help mold into young adults. Money wasn’t an issue, because I’d inherited a sizeable sum when my father and grandmother had died, so all in all, most days were fine, but when I started feeling like I was going crazy… That was something else altogether.

  Shit. I needed to get my head out of my ass.

  I managed a smile for Mrs. Winkelhofer, my elderly landlady, as I let myself into my apartment building. Normally I ran after work, but I hadn’t been sleeping worth a damn so it was getting harder to find the energy to run. Fear was getting to me and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing I could do about it. If I was still in Washington, D.C., it would be a different story, but here in Germany I was beginning to feel very alone.

  My father had been a Marine and a United States senator before his death two years ago, so if I was there at least someone would believe me when I said I felt like I was being watched, and maybe help me figure out what was going on. At the very least, I could go to my parents’ townhouse when I needed a good night’s sleep. Be
cause that hadn’t been happening at all lately. Every noise, every gust of wind or drop of rain on the windows made me jump and then I couldn’t get back to sleep. It was ridiculous, but my overactive imagination was getting the best of me since I’d begun seeing things moved around my apartment.

  At first, I’d thought it was my imagination, but then I tested my theories…taking pictures of each room and countertop in the apartment in the morning before I left and comparing them to how they looked when I got home at night. Yesterday, someone had moved my teapot from where I’d left it next to the sink and put it back on the stove where I normally kept it. It had completely freaked me out.

  I’d asked Mrs. Winkelhofer if she’d seen anyone hovering around the building but she hadn’t, so I didn’t know what to make of it. I was careful, sticking to populated routes and going out in groups, but I honestly didn’t have any proof other than the relocated teapot. It had freaked me out so much I’d told my mother, and now she was freaking out, which was never a good thing. All I needed was for her to make an impromptu trip.

  She’d visited before and it was nice, but it was December now and the end of the semester was on the horizon, so my students and I were gearing up for finals. I didn’t have time for company and she wasn’t good on her own. We’d become close after Dad passed away, especially with my divorce becoming final soon after. She felt responsible since she’d set me up with Douglas, and she sometimes went overboard to make it up to me, which was the last thing I needed right now. I appreciated the effort she was making, but I’d moved to Germany to do something on my own. She and my father had dictated pretty much everything I did up until I got married, and now I needed to find my own way. Emotionally, anyway.

  I dropped my bag and took off my coat, kicking off my shoes before heading to the bathroom. I immediately started running water for a bath, dumping in some bubble bath and a few drops of essential oils. I stripped off my clothes, put them in the pile I was taking to the dry cleaner in the morning, and pulled on my bathrobe. I padded out to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of prosecco, my latest guilty pleasure. Then I dug my e-reader out of my purse and walked back to the bathroom.

  I was about to get in the water when my paranoia got the best of me and I went out to grab my phone. Just in case. I dug around in my purse and it wasn’t there. Panicked, I ran to find my clothes, digging through the pockets. Still nothing. It wasn’t in my coat pocket, my laptop bag, or on any of the counters. Had I left it at school? No, that wasn’t possible because I’d checked the weather forecast on the way home. I’d walked home and hadn’t made any stops, so there was no way I’d left it anywhere. Which meant I’d dropped it. But I was always so careful about that.

  I grabbed my purse and opened it again, ready to dump it out in a last-ditch effort to find the phone, and there it was right on top, mocking me. I stared for a long minute as goose bumps broke out all over my body. I turned around slowly, swallowing down my fear. Was someone here or was I actually losing my mind? A chill raced down my spine and my heart rate kicked up a few notches. What the hell was going on?

  With my phone clutched tightly in my hand, I threw open the hall closet, determined to check every nook and cranny of my small apartment. It was blissfully empty and I hurried into my bedroom, opening the tall wardrobe that was provided since there was no bedroom closet. There was nothing there but my clothes and shoes, and even though I didn’t know what I would do if I found someone, I dropped to the floor to look under the bed.

  Empty.

  Heart still racing and a light sheen of sweat on my upper lip, I looked behind the sofa, on the small balcony, and even double-checked that my front door was locked and bolted. The apartment was empty and I was losing my mind.

  With shaking hands, I unlocked my phone and called my mother. I needed her to talk me off the ledge because I had no idea how I was ever going to sleep again.

  Chapter Three

  Ace

  Under the guise of working to hinder the development of a Limaji intelligence agency, I was busier than I should have been since I really wasn’t doing any such thing. In fact, I was working on helping them start it up. It probably wasn’t the most ethical thing I’d ever done, but I knew Erik and the royal family intimately. We were friends and I’d been involved in helping him stay alive during his years in hiding. He was a good man who had the best interests of his country at heart, and while I didn’t know what the CIA’s issue was with him wanting his own version of an intelligence agency, I literally had no way to stop him. I’d told him what was going on, but as I’d suspected, Erik had laughed. So now I bopped around Europe doing some reconnaissance here and a little intelligence there, but mostly I was hanging out in Limaj relaxing.

  I’d just gotten to the airport in Hiskale after one short but intense CIA mission in early December, anxious to head back to my room at the palace and get some rest, when my phone rang. I’d been up for nearly two days, but when a name I hadn’t seen in years flashed on the screen, I answered it briskly. “Mrs. Barrow?”

  “Andrew. Thank goodness I found you.”

  “What’s wrong?” I knew that sound, the panic in a person’s voice, telling me something was going on.

  “I need your help.” She was a normally stoic-sounding woman but that wasn’t what I heard right now.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s Shannon.”

  “What?” My heart nearly stopped, memories of a sweet, soulful kiss a long time ago shuttering through the windows of my mind like one of those old-fashioned flip books. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s a teacher now at a school in Germany. She’s been in Cologne about a year and has been really happy there, but something weird is happening. I think she has a stalker.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, no, but I know my daughter and she’s worried. There’s nothing concrete, but there have been a lot of little things, and they keep happening. She’s been trying to make light of it, but she was freaked out earlier today and now I’m scared, Andrew.”

  “I’m not sure what I can do, but tell me everything.”

  “I need you to go to Germany and find out who’s tormenting her.”

  “I can’t just pick up and go—”

  “After her divorce, she moved to Germany to get away. It was messy and…embarrassing. I… That’s probably my fault, for being so hard on her, but I’m truly worried now and you’re the only person I could think of that might help us. We don’t have anyone else now that her father’s gone. Please. If not for me, then for Wayne.”

  I sighed, though it was probably more on the inside than outside. I had a lot on my plate and didn’t have time for a rich, beautiful damsel in distress. Not even one whose kiss still haunted my dreams.

  “Andrew? I have money. I’ll pay you anything you want. Just please, don’t let anything happen to her.”

  I made an impulsive decision even though I’d probably regret it. “I don’t need or want money but you have to text me everything you know about her life in Cologne,” I said after a moment. “Phone number, address, email, the name of the school where she works, names of other teachers, bosses, boyfriends—anything and everything. A recent picture. I need as much detail as possible, especially if she’s denying there’s a problem.”

  “I’ll send everything right away.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” I disconnected and made a call to my buddy Darryl “Chains” Carruthers, who ran Westfield & Carruthers Security in Las Vegas. I’d worked with them on occasion and trusted him implicitly. “Hey, it’s me. I need any information you can dig up on a woman named Shannon Barrow. Approximately thirty-one years old, daughter of the late Senator Wayne Barrow. It’s important.”

  I got to Cologne that night and checked into a hotel. I needed some rest before I delved into whatever this was. The truth was that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see Shannon or not. Our short encounter a decade ago was one of those memories you romanticized until it was
the end-all of everything: women, relationships, expectations, the lot of it. I’d kissed Shannon in my dreams a hundred thousand times since then, and I’d fucked more than one woman pretending she was Shannon. That was neither healthy nor fair, to the women I’d bedded or to myself, and my gut told me seeing Shannon would only rip that wound open.

  It wasn’t really a wound. More of a faded scar. Something small but momentous that you forgot about until the occasional itch reminded you it was there. Shannon wasn’t an itch, though, and the memory had never faded. I thought of her more often than I wanted to admit, and knowing she was here, just half a mile or so down the road, was going to drive me nuts. As tired as I was, after going without sleep for forty-eight hours, I still tossed and turned. After about five hours, I gave up and got out of bed, showering and pulling on clean clothes.

  I hit the street and smiled. Cologne was a great little town and I’d been here on more than one occasion. It was December, so the Christmas markets were open and even early in the morning I caught a whiff of pastries baking. It was a wonderful time of year to be in this part of the world. I loved Europe any time of year, and often toyed with the idea of retiring here someday, but the weeks leading up to Christmas were special. I’d always wondered what it would be like to spend the holidays with someone special, but it had always been too dangerous in my line of work.

  Cologne was just as I remembered it, and I smiled to myself as I walked down the street Shannon lived on. Her apartment building was small but a bit more modern than some of the others. The front doors were locked, offering a modicum of security, and I paused to try them, just in case. Definitely locked, which was good. The street was lined with cars, which meant it was busy, and a quick glance in either direction told me traffic would pick up as people got ready for work.