The Lifeguard

by Kade, Teagan

  He looks up, past me, and rushes forward, taking me by the arm and shifting behind me, walking us back towards the shipping container. As he does, I see something, a glimpse of something I’ve never seen on his face before.

  Fear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ARCHER

  I reload from my position high on the emergency stairwell at the side of the warehouse, a perfect eagle’s nest from which to work.

  I wasn’t a sniper in the Army, but Liam was. I picked up enough to know what to do—find a high vantage point with multiple exits, sufficient cover, work quickly, have an out, watch the wind… There’s barely a breeze outside—perfect conditions for shooting up assholes.

  The rifle I found in the back of Mateo’s taxi is a SAKO TRG 42, a long-range Finnish weapon generally considered one of the finest of its kind in the world. The serial number’s been filed off, of course, which I imagine is going to make things interesting when the questions come later.

  The trunk of the taxi was basically the Punisher’s own personal war chest, but I had to pick and choose fast, thankful for Mateo’s lifeline.

  It wasn’t easy taking down these pricks from such a distance, but seeing Liam going down, shot in the back of fucking head like a chump, I found the nerve I needed.

  But the one behind it all, the one who has to be the Serpent himself, is right behind Winter blocking my bullet. I’m lying down, looking through the scope as he takes her, drawing out his own weapon, a gold-plated Ruger, and holding it to her side where I know it will do a fuck-load of damage if it goes off.

  He’s looking around wildly, doesn’t know where the shots came from.

  Good, I think, packing up quickly and making my way down the stairs.

  “Where are you?!” he shouts, his voice booming around the warehouse. “Fucking show yourself, coward!”

  I have every intention of doing so, approaching from the north-west corner with the rifle slung and a Glock drawn, holding it tight with two hands while I move towards the center of the warehouse where he’s holding Winter.

  I want to stop, to tell her it’s going to be okay, but I have to focus. If I look at her eyes it might all come undone, and I can’t lose her. Not now. Not fucking ever.

  “That’s fucking close enough,” spits Serpiente. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Give me the girl,” I tell him, speaking slowly, “and I’ll let you run back to your fuck buddies in whatever hole you crawled out of.”

  He laughs, jamming the gun into Winter’s side. “This bitch? You’re who, the fucking lifeguard?”

  “Sure am. Saving lives in style since twenty-oh-nine.”

  He likes that, throwing back his head. “Fucking David Hasselhoff, yes? You American assholes all thinking you’re heroes. Do you even know who I am?”

  He’s acting confident, but his body language, his tone, is suggesting he’s shitting his pants. I just have to be patient.

  I take another tentative step closer, moving slowly. “Let her go. I won’t say it again.”

  “I said stop where you fucking are!” he shouts, but I keep on moving forward.

  He’s getting irritated now, the fear getting the better of him, swallowing him whole.

  And finally, he breaks.

  “I said fucking get back!” he screams, moving the weapon away from Winter to point at me.

  I don’t hesitate. I fire.

  He shouts as his hand is blown away, the weapon going wide, his entire torso exposed in the movement.

  I fire two rounds in the middle of his chest, waiting until Winter manages to spin away before punching another one right into the middle of his stupid fucking skull.

  That does it. He goes down. Dead—the head of the mighty Lacoya cartel taken out by a fucking Miami Beach Lifeguard.

  Winter rushes forward into my arms, but I keep my gun raised, moving us towards the front doors. We’re still exposed here.

  “Archer,” she says, pulling on my shirt.

  I look outside, can already hear sirens in the distance, but I take a moment to hold her in the doorway, kiss her lips. I don’t care she’s sweaty, dirty, scared, she’s back and that’s all that fucking matters. My baby is back and I’m never going to let her go again.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, the sirens building. “I didn’t know.”

  “Your friend…” she says, looking sideways to where what’s left of Liam’s head remains.

  I swallow down a sudden thickness in my throat because yes, Liam betrayed me, but I know it could only be out of the deepest desperation, know I could have stopped it if I’d only been quicker. My anger turns to pity.

  Sensing this, Winter reaches up with her bound hands and holds my face. A single tear cuts down her cheek. “It’s not your fault. You saved me… again.”

  “I think it’s becoming a habit,” I laugh.

  A police car swings into the parking lot of the warehouse.

  “Walk out with your hands up,” I tell Winter, “Slowly. It’s all going to be okay. Serpiente’s dead. He can’t hurt you.”

  Another police car joins the first, a third and fourth following.

  I place the rifle and Glock down, placing my hands on my head and walking out into the sunlight, stopping and getting down on my knees.

  Beside me, Winter does the same.

  I know what’s coming isn’t going to be a walk in the park, but for all I care Miami PD can make me walk across hot coals.

  Winter’s safe.

  That’s all that fucking matters.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  WINTER

  We’re back together at the police station, the familiar, all-too-bright lighting causing my eyes to water. Or maybe’s it just the rush of emotions I’m feeling. They’ve been drawn up and rearranged, scrambled and reordered until I’m not sure exactly what I’m feeling only that I’m thankful I’m alive. I have Archer to thank for that—again.

  We’re seated against the wall in a holding area of sorts, not that we’re under arrest. The policemen who took us in, a couple of which I recognized from the volleyball competition, made that very clear. The way Archer was talking with them, it was almost like he was a cop himself.

  I tug at his arm beside me. “That’s twice now you’ve saved my life.”

  He smiles at me. “I wasn’t counting.”

  “What happens when it hits three?”

  He kisses my forehead, leaving his lips there, warm, against my skin. “I hope it never comes to that.”

  I let my head rest on his shoulder. “Me too.”

  I can see a group of men enter the adjoining room. Men from the Drug Enforcement Agency arrived at the scene along with a parade of emergency services. But these men look different again.

  “Who are they?” I ask, jerking my head in their direction.

  “ICE agents,” Archer replies, his expression clouding.

  “Immigration?”

  “Yes,” he says, rubbing my arm, “but don’t worry about it. It’s just protocol. They might take you, ask some questions, hold you for a bit, but the information you’re providing… I’ll make damn sure you stay put.”

  “Are you sure you have that kind of power?”

  He laughs. “Baby, I can charm anyone—male, female, canine, feline. I’m a walking, talking eight ball that only comes up ‘Yes’.”

  I can’t help but laugh along, but deeper down I’m scared. I am here illegally. Won’t they send me back? Wouldn’t that be the easiest option?

  But Archer’s right. With the things I know, the information on the cartel, I am the one in a position of power, one I’ve never been in before or known. I should take advantage of it.

  Haven’t you been through enough? my head interjects. Don’t you deserve this? Don’t you deserve happiness?

  I look across at Archer and nod to myself. Yes. Yes, I do.

  Eventually, after countless interviews and meetings, people, strangers asking question after question, I’m turned over to the IC
E agents, but they’re not as threatening as I imagined. In fact, Archer, as predicted, has managed to charm them.

  “…and then the bastard threw up, right up into my face as I was doing mouth-to-mouth. There’s nothing about that in the training manual.”

  He sees me, telling the agents. “Can you give us a second?”

  They nod together.

  Archer approaches me with his hands in his pockets. He looks as tired as I feel. He points behind himself at the ICE agents, lowering his voice. “Alright, these guys are going to have to take you now, but you’ve got nothing to be worried about. I’ve talked to them and they understand. They’re going to make a great case for getting you temporary residency, at least until we sort the rest of this shit out. Everyone’s going to want to keep you a) close and b) protected.”

  “Will I have to testify?” I ask, questions popping into my head faster than I can process them.

  He takes me by the shoulders, squeezing gently. “I don’t know, baby, but I’m going to be here, right by your side, the whole way. You’re safe and we’re going to make sure your father’s safe, too. Precautions have already been made.”

  “They have?”

  I feel guilty not even having thought about my father.

  Archer stands back grinning. “Come on now. I told you I could work miracles, didn’t I?”

  “Can you miracle up a bed, because I’m real tired.”

  He brushes hair from my forehead, his eyes relaxed and warm, telling me it’s all going to be okay. “Soon, I promise.”

  He kisses me one last time, holding my face with both hands, deepening it until together, we can barely breathe, desperate to hang onto each other.

  I break away and a fresh tear slides down my cheek. Archer wipes it away with his thumb. “Don’t cry now. You’re strong, remember? You’re a skydiving, cartel-kicking badass. Don’t you fucking forget it.”

  I can’t stop the tears, but I smile through them. “I won’t.”

  He steps aside, the agents ushering me out the door.

  I see Archer there through the window doing his best to stay composed, but the glazed look in his eyes, even from this distance, betrays him. It would appear this man, this rock, might just be soft inside after all.

  SIX WEEKS LATER

  “Where are we going?” I ask, unable to see a damn thing with this blindfold on. I extend my hands out in front of me, Archer leading me from behind.

  It doesn’t help it’s nighttime, my only clue the odd flash of neon or streaking light, which tells me, together with the noise, we’re probably somewhere near Main Beach.

  We’ve only been back together a couple of weeks, the processing taking longer than expected, but now I’m here legally—at least temporarily. If I want to stay in the US, well, that’s a different question.

  I was able to speak to my father, confirm he was okay. He told me he’d been moved to a new house. ‘It even has a working shower,’ he told me, ‘a fridge!’ speaking about these basic things like they were part of an elaborate Aladdin’s Cave he’d inherited. I burst into tears, of course, a blubbery, wet mess on the phone, but it was good, so good, to hear his voice.

  I mentioned Archer briefly.

  ‘A life-what?’ my father had asked, confused.

  ‘He saves people,’ I replied simply, knowing whatever I could come up with would not do him justice. No, I’d need them to meet, curious as to how it would pan out. Archer told me he can charm anyone, but a protective daughter’s father, especially one of an only child? That could be a hard sell.

  For now, the sense of normality has returned. The information I provided was acted on quickly, the cartel taken down in an international effort, the first of its kind. From all accounts, it worked. It helped, Lacoya was gone, the head of the snake cut off for good. Other cartels will rise to fill its place, I’m sure, but there’s no more Serpiente, no more of his personal evil tainting the world.

  I was offered witness protection, but I declined knowing if Archer couldn’t keep me safe, no one could. I’ve kept my new name, even have half a wardrobe of shiny American clothes to wear, including a whole drawer full of fancy underwear for those special occasions, which are many. There is still a fear, a small shred of it that seems to stain even the best moments, but I try to keep it at bay. It might never leave, but I know with Archer by my side at least I can minimize its presence, observe it from a distance like one would a lingering squall.

  “Okay, stop,” says Archer, his breath tickling the side of my neck.

  It’s quieter here. I can hear the ocean, but I’ve still got no idea where we are.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  “For what?” I hit back. “If I open my eyes and find we’re about to get on that damn Lucifer the skydiving plane again…”

  “No, no,” he laughs, “I think you’ll like this even better.”

  I’m unsure, but nod all the same.

  He takes my blindfold off, undoing the knot in the back and letting it fall into his hands.

  I look around, my eyes slow to adjust.

  We’re in the lifeguard tower on Main Beach, the Ronald McDonald one. There are no lights on, the beach dark, all shadow ahead through the windows.

  “We’ve had sex here before, remember?” I tell him, pointing. “Me, up on the desk there. You, between my legs.”

  Even in the low light Archer can’t hide his smile. “Oh, I remember, but we’re not here for that. Well, maybe later…”

  I can’t take it anymore. “What is going on? Tell me.”

  He points through the window at the front of the tower looking down over the sand. “Watch,” he says, flicking a switch on the wall.

  Immediately, spotlights on the front of the tower illuminate a wide stretch on the sand in front and below us.

  An area of it’s been cordoned off and written there, in giant sandy grooves, are the last words I expected to see: Marry me?

  I turn to Archer in shock, but he’s already on one knee, a box in his hand, something glinting inside from the spotlights outside.

  I’m so surprised, I stammer ‘No!’ stepping back.

  Archer just continues to smile. “Oh? Because I really thought you’d say ‘yes’.”

  My thoughts are moving a million miles per hour. “I didn’t mean—”

  He takes my hand and draws me to him. “Shh now. Let me talk.”

  I nod, starting to smile myself, bubbly excitement rising up inside me.

  “Winter,” he tells me, locking eyes, “I know we haven’t been together long, but I also know I can’t live without you. You’re the ocean, the air I breathe. You are everything to me, and I want you to be my wife… please.”

  I want to come back with something witty, clever, but I’m so excited, so terrified this chance will slip away, I rush into his arms, bowling him over onto his back.

  We kiss, Archer managing to hold the ring aside somehow.

  When we break apart, he says, “I take it that’s a ‘yes’?

  I reply by kissing him back, the ocean shifting outside, the sound of the nightlife a mere murmur in the air.

  Finally, I allow myself to sit back on my haunches.

  Rocking forward, Archer takes the opportunity to slip the ring onto my finger. I can see now it’s a simple but timeless design, a classic solitaire set in silver.

  “Do you like it?” he asks, and I’m pretty sure I detect a hint of nervousness in his usual steely voice.

  “Baby,” I reply, borrowing his favorite term of endearment, “I’d wear a rubber band if it came from you.”

  “It was a touch more expensive than a rubber band. Let’s just say I’ll be doing plenty of overtime when they let me back in here.”

  “It’s beautiful. You are beautiful.”

  We hold each other, simply sit there on the floor of the tower listening to our breathing, taking in the new world that’s just been created between us, and I know, just know, it’s going to be incredible.

  Archer
pulls back. “You think I should tell Robbie to come in now?”

  “Robbie?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I left him outside on security detail. Had to make sure no one disturbed our masterwork down there.”

  I smile, allowing my hand to snake between us and find Archer’s hardness. It responds instantly, jerking against my fingers, eager, no doubt, to make this union official.

  “Why don’t we let him wait a little bit longer?” I suggest.

  EPILOGUE

  ARCHER

  ONE YEAR LATER

  “I can’t believe it’s taken us a whole year to have our honeymoon,” I say, reclining in the sand.

  Feeling sorry for us, the lifeguards pooled together a pretty impressive wedding gift, though life always got in the way of letting us actually spend the money in question and get away. But, finally, here we are—the beautiful Westin Lagunamar in Cancun.

  I know it’s more luxurious than anything Winter’s seen before, people waiting on us hand and foot, though Winter’s been fairly ‘hands on’ herself, so to speak. I’m just thankful the wing we’re in has been quiet, because we are definitely not.

  It’s almost sunset, the sun peeking out from the clouds on the horizon, everything around us flaxen and gold.

  We didn’t really believe a fellow hotel guest when they told us they knew of a secluded beach, especially not around somewhere so built up as Cancun, but an hour on a dodgy bus later, half an hour of walking, and here we are. It’s not exactly secluded, given the walking trails on the cliff above, but we haven’t seen a soul since we got here.

  It’s been bliss. Even the water was more temperate than it should be, and this time I don’t have to save anyone, keep up a constant state of vigilance. I’m free to enjoy it with the woman I love, my wife.

  I think back to our wedding. We had it on Main Beach, naturally, one of the prettier towers done up in ribbon and silk, a small group of bare-footed friends watching on.

  I stood there at the altar, more of a paddleboard shoved into the sand, and thought of Liam for a moment, wishing he was there, but when I saw Winter, bright and white and so damn pretty the whole picture was a postcard, I only thought one thing.