The Protector

by Cristin Harber

  The armed man behind Jane shoved her and shouted words that she couldn’t understand but had deciphered as move faster.

  “We’re trying.” She grabbed onto Teddy’s hand. The little boy tried to look over his shoulder, but Jane pulled him close. “Hurry. It’ll be okay. But hurry.” She’d told him the same thing so often that she felt like a broken record.

  The heat was baking them alive. Jane finally realized why their captors were covered from head to toe in long robes, fabric, headwraps, and veils—they had to block the sun. What she would have done for a sun hat or a robe from the locals. Sweat soaked her clothes. Her tank top and shorts clung to her body, and she readjusted the straps fruitlessly to give her more coverage. It didn’t matter. The hot sun scalded her fair skin.

  They stumbled across the dirt, tripping over bushes and stones, and approached a meager patch of shade from a long-ago-burned-out bus. Dax’s upbeat suggestion that they stop was rebuffed. The photographer clicked a quick picture.

  Gigi threw herself to the ground. “I can’t go any farther.”

  The photographer clicked again. Maybe it was the rising heat or the hazy and out-of-reach way the only signs of possible civilization loomed in the distance, but Jane couldn’t help but think of Gigi as though she were acting in a soap opera.

  The men ordered their group to stop abruptly, shoving them toward the carcass of a burned-out bus. Maybe Jane shouldn’t have knocked Gigi’s theatrics. They now had a slip of shade and could rest.

  Jane crouched to Teddy’s level. “This will make an interesting story to share when school starts.”

  “I’m thirsty,” Teddy croaked.

  “I know. Me too, and we can get a drink soon.” She pushed his sweaty hair from his forehead, wishing she didn’t have to lie. She had no idea when their captors would offer drinks again. She’d learned the hard way not to ask first.

  “When?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, baby.” She tried to sound optimistic. “It should be soon.”

  Teddy pouted and held his arms out. “Will you cuddle me?”

  “Of course.” Lord knew his parents weren’t going to offer. She sat on the ground and cradled Teddy in her lap. The sand and rocks under her legs were hotter than hell. Teddy’s body heat made her feel worse, but they both needed someone to hold on to. “Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”

  She blinked in the bright sun and studied the men. Their heads and faces were completely wrapped, leaving only their eyes visible. They held huge guns, and two of the men wore bandoliers of bullets around their chests. Their conversation seemed tense. Then again, what did she know? They mostly communicated through angry shouts. Maybe that was just their way.

  Slowly, Jane shifted to glance at her employer. Dax rubbed the tips of his fingers together and regarded the men curiously, as if this was a history lesson. He almost looked confused. But maybe he was unhappy they didn’t know his company’s commercials. She wasn’t sure he even understood the severity of what they were up against.

  Gigi breezed over as she fanned her face and smiled down at Teddy. “Don’t worry. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.”

  Joe’s camera clicked as he captured the moment. “Nice shot.”

  Jane wanted to pull Teddy away and hide, but they had nowhere to go. She whispered the same words as Gigi against his temple. They all seemed to be speaking words of encouragement again and again. Except Dax. The only thing he repeated was, “Well, this is what our ransom insurance is for!”

  Jane wanted to punch him in the nose. Especially when he followed up each time with a huge laugh.

  Teddy turned toward two men. Their lively conversation morphed from terse words into shouts. He grasped her hand tighter. “Why are they fighting?”

  “Everything will be okay.” Jane managed the non-answer, wondering if she actually believed it. Deep down, she had the sinking feeling they were well and truly fucked.

  She glanced at Joe-the-photographer, wondering why he was so calm. Jane couldn’t understand how he’d been allowed to keep his camera or why he risked the occasional photograph. They were all crazy!

  Dax acted like the danger was all part of the fun. Even Gigi didn’t seem that worried. Surprisingly enough, she seemed more bothered by the heat and lack of water than frightened. Maybe the heat made her irrational. Or, maybe she was still coasting on her Xanax-wine spritzers.

  Jane would have preferred Gigi’s antics to this oh-well attitude. Why didn’t she yell at their captors? Where was her big escape? Though the barren landscape didn’t offer anywhere to go.

  Ahead of them, the remnants of what looked like an abandoned city grew larger as they walked. She mopped sweat off of her forehead. It was nearly midday, and the sun felt like fire. Her throat was so dry. She would’ve killed for a bottle of water and sunscreen. Her skin burned, and poor Teddy’s cheeks were as red as strawberries. They’d been forced to leave almost everything on the plane.

  The three men with guns marched off, still arguing, sandals spitting up puffs of dust as they walked.

  Dax carefully slid over to the photographer. “Joe,” he murmured, “you getting all this?”

  Joe nodded, patting his beaten brown rucksack that he’d been allowed to take. It hadn’t had anything useful like sun protection, food, or water. Just his stupid camera equipment.

  Jane eyed the bag and the awkward way Joe positioned it, then noticed the bag had a small hole. Joe was pointing the opening in the direction of the men. Was that a hidden video camera? Is he fucking televising this? Live-streaming it on Twitter? For what? She gnashed her teeth.

  Gigi sighed loudly as though she needed everyone’s attention. “Dax, I don’t like this anymore.”

  Yeah, me neither, lady. Maybe the wine spritzer was wearing off and Gigi had just opened her eyes. Because this was a pretty easy trip to hate. Jane and Teddy hadn’t been keen on it since before they landed.

  “It’ll be fine!” Dax’s eyes were wide and wild.

  Jane slumped. Whenever Dax rode an adrenaline wave, she knew to buckle her seatbelt and hang on. But how much longer could the man remain excited and oblivious?

  “I mean it, Dax.” Gigi fanned herself. “I don’t think you’re quite gripping this. Those men are carrying guns. Real guns.”

  Versus what? Fake guns? Jane managed not to roll her eyes. At least someone else besides her now seemed to know that they were in deep shit and rapidly sinking deeper.

  “I didn’t realize it would be so—rustic.” Gigi looked over at Jane. “I think Teddy’s frightened.”

  Dax brushed dirt from his white linen shirt. “Relax. Guns or not, nothing’ll happen to us.”

  Gigi pursed her lips and sighed heavily again before turning to her husband. “What if something goes wrong?”

  Hello? Something has gone very wrong, Jane wanted to scream. Instead, she kissed Teddy’s temple.

  “In case you forgot,” Dax pointed out, “we’re worth a hell of a lot of money to them. They won’t hurt us.”

  “But Teddy,” Gigi whined, clinging to her new interest in her son.

  Dax kneeled in front of Teddy and faked a punch to his shoulder. “You’re okay, right, buddy? My big man?”

  Teddy straightened in Jane’s arm and smiled hopefully at his father. He rarely got Dax’s attention and was over the moon when it happened.

  “Great.” Mollified, Dax winked at his wife. “He’s fine.”

  Gigi’s lips thinned. “Filtered ice water would be nice.”

  Jane almost snorted. Filtered and cold would be a little more than nice… Jane wondered what the symptoms of heatstroke were as she watched Gigi pout.

  “We can’t always get what we want.” Dax rubbed a finger over his teeth, then wiped the shine from his tanned forehead as though he wanted to look nice for his public.

  Obviously, they both were having heatstroke problems. Or! The joke was on her and Teddy. Gigi and Dax had forced them unknowingly to take part in a reality television show. An
odd spring of hope quickened Jane’s pulse.

  It wouldn’t be totally unheard of for either Gigi or Dax to act absolutely insane. Maybe their whole thing, from capture to caravan to the ransom, was just an act. Maybe the men with guns were just actors that Dax had hired. This could all be for a publicity stunt!

  Optimism surged. Insanity ruled the roost at the Thane residences. They might be a few minutes away from ice-cold water and a luxury suite in a hotel. At least, Jane hoped.

  She peered around, hoping to see a poorly hidden camera crew, complementing the closeups Joe had managed. The crew would pop out after all of this was over, hand them ice-cold drinks and snacks, and tell them, “You should’ve seen your faces!”

  She held her breath, waiting. No such luck.

  Teddy stirred from her lap and found a stick.

  “Good idea,” Jane encouraged.

  He drew pictures in the sand. A circle, a house, then a T for Teddy.

  Jane leaned over and kissed the top of Teddy’s head. Despite the hours trudging through hell, she could still smell the faint lemon shampoo from the bath she’d given him right before they left.

  He wrote the E backward and asked, “Everything’s okay, right, Janie?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sure,” she lied. Her hopefulness plummeted as the secret camera crew failed to appear.

  A quick, loud rat-a-tat-tat rang out, somewhere near the city in the distance. It echoed across the desert plain and pinched at her heart. Gunfire.

  “Is everything still okay?” Teddy asked again.

  “Yes, baby.” Again, she lied. “I’m sure.”

  But now she was nearly certain this wasn’t one of their games. A camera crew wouldn’t pop out from behind the burned-out bus. Gigi and Dax wouldn’t joke about their ransom insurance. Things were most definitely not all right.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Two Days Later

  Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates

  Chance Evans leaned back and swept his eyes over the lavish hotel in downtown Abu Dhabi. Even “closed for construction,” as the sign outside proclaimed, it was way more opulent than anything he was used to in the States. He was more of a cheeseburger-and-beer kind of guy, but this place was definitely steak and scotch.

  All this wealth? It made him antsy. For the thousandth time since the Titan Group’s jet had touched down in the Emirates, Chance wondered how the hell Jared Westin, the man, the myth, the legend—also known as his employer—had ever thought Chance was made for this kind of lifestyle.

  Abu Dhabi was a far cry from the shit he had to slog through while in the Army and an even bigger step away from his humble country upbringing in southwestern Virginia, in a house that was about as middle-of-nowhere as one could get east of the Appalachians.

  Honestly, he couldn’t see how anyone on the Aces team fit in with the swank and sizzle of a city so glitzy that the call to prayer bellowed from a mosque that could have doubled as a palace. Then again, some of his teammates had worked in espionage, while others had been on assignments in exotic locations. He’d, more or less, been a grunt like his friend Liam, who’d also joined Titan’s newest covert team.

  Whatever it was that had prompted Jared to offer Chance the opportunity, he was grateful, and even if he was a fish out of water, he would make it work. Once he got used to this place, he would be fine. It had been almost a year, so… any day now.

  He walked through the magnificent lobby, with its arched doorways and colorful frescos, to what had once been the hotel’s reception area. It would be so again, but unknown to the public, the walls would be armored and the glass bulletproof. Somewhere in the middle of the skyscraping towers that would again one day house tourists and business travelers was a central command center shaping up to be Titan’s Abu Dhabi Headquarters.

  It’d be state of the art, with at least one floor dedicated as a central nerve center. Several floors would include suites that were actually impenetrable safe-house locations—everything the elite team of agents needed to provide security for their clients on this side of the world.

  A film of dust lightly coated the marble floor as the most technical construction crew that Chance had ever come across ran wires into the walls and ceiling. He eyed them and then saw Parker Black, the Titan Group’s Director of Intelligence, scowling at blueprints. The large papers were laid across a makeshift table, and Parker’s brow knit as he spoke with one of his many construction-security consultant minions.

  With nothing much to do, Chance ambled over. “Working on the death rays today?”

  The security minion wasn’t amused, stepping from Parker and scurrying away to wait by the far wall.

  “I didn’t even get a smile.” Chance grimaced dramatically. “I don’t think they like me.”

  He snickered as he glanced from the schematic. “They don’t like to socialize.”

  “They seem like a bunch of spooks.”

  Parker shrugged. “What are you up to?”

  Now it was Chance’s turn to shrug. If he had to be honest, he was up to a shit-ton of nothing. “If not death rays, then what?”

  Parker laughed. “Right now, we’re in a holding pattern. Everything’s hurry up and wait.”

  “Sounds familiar.” Army life had been the same, though new orders always seemed somewhere on the horizon. Even post-Army, as a contractor, downtime hadn’t existed unless he wanted it to. Right now, no one needed anything from Chance. Their team was still forming and the jobs weren’t lined up. They spent more time training and working out than jumping into battle zones. That was probably why he was antsy.

  “You look bored.” Parker rolled the large paper and tucked it into a long, black container.

  “Yup, you nailed it.”

  “Something’s in the pipeline. But until then, Hagan’s running the stairs in the west tower if you’re that bored.”

  “Ha. Not bored enough to sprint up staircases.” Though the day was looking bright if the possibility of a job loomed. “If a gig is coming, I’ll stick close. Maybe grab some grub and people watch.”

  “If you returned with muhammara or moutabel from the restaurant across the street, I wouldn’t turn it away.”

  “Sounds fancy,” he joked.

  “Better than that shit you keep upstairs in your kitchen.”

  “Don’t knock my canned food stash.” Though, he would have killed for a burger and fries.

  Boots thundered down the hall, and Chance turned as Jared stormed into the lobby. He paused, glowering like he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed every day of the last decade. Then he nodded to Parker.

  “Boss Man,” Parker said as way of greeting.

  “Both of you.” Jared glared at Chance and threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Get into the office.” Then he pulled out his phone, barking similar orders as he stormed away.

  “Glad to see he’s all piss and vinegar today,” Chance muttered with a half-cocked grin.

  Parker signaled to the security consultant that he’d be back and then slapped Chance on the back. “That, my friend, is what you get for being bored.”

  A little work? Chance snorted. “I’ll take it.”

  They filed behind the reception desk and through the door to their makeshift office. It was nothing more than a few chairs and a bare desk holding a laptop.

  Parker moved to the computer, and Chance pulled up a chair as a sweat-soaked Hagan walked in, guzzling a bottle of water. The other men filtered in as Jared reappeared. He took his position at the head of the improvised table and leaned back in his chair. His dark, laser-focused gaze landed on Parker. “It looks like we’ll have to put our little redecorating job on hold.”

  “Looks like,” Parker said.

  Chance sat on the edge of his seat. Welcome anticipation surged in his chest. They were finally getting away from the wealth and privilege.

  Boss Man cracked his knuckles. “There’s a civilian rescue in order.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Chance didn’t want civi
lians in danger, and he hadn’t signed up to sit back and twiddle his thumbs. Still, seconds ticked by, and Jared didn’t share anything. Instead, he and Parker managed to have an intense, nonverbal conversation, leaving Chance to guess at what was happening.

  He came up short. Both men were impossible to read. Jared didn’t let anything slip from his close control beyond what the big guy wanted Chance to know. Parker, less guarded but more analytical in nature, played his cards close to the vest as well.

  Both men seemed like good people to work with. Chance even liked Boss Man all right. So far, he’d been fair. Even when he was an asshole.

  “Something funny, Midas?” Jared barked.

  He hadn’t realized he’d been smirking. “No, sir.”

  Across the table, Camden coughed to cover a laugh.

  Sawyer didn’t bother hiding his amusement. “That’s Chance’s happy grin. The man’s ready to get to work.”

  “Not a lie.” Chance leaned back in his chair.

  “Anyone else? Hagan?” Jared groused and muttered, “Anyone got anything to add to this chit chat before we get down to work?”

  “Well.” Hagan placed his elbows on the table. “I—”

  “For fuck’s sake, Hagan. No. Your answer is no.” Jared rubbed the back of his neck. “Son of a bitch. Now, as I was saying…”

  If Chance were a betting man, he’d guess that their team bullshitting around the table pleased Jared to no end. Even if he constantly reminded them that he wasn’t ready for their team and they weren’t ready, period. The more Boss Man said that, the more Chance thought he approved of their work. They meshed well. Chance had fallen in with a handful of the guys—Liam, Hagan, Camden, and Sawyer—and got along with others. Though, he got along with just about everyone.

  Noticing the quiet that had fallen over the room, Chance refocused on Jared. He glared at Parker until he stopped typing. “If you’re finished sending dirty messages to your special lady friend.”