Chapter 3
Blayze shook his head as he thumbed through the information Sutton passed onto him late last night. Digital pictures and/or descriptions of the packages Sophia had received. Blayze applauded Mr. Vasco for his efforts to snuff the coward out early. Most people didn’t have the resources, financially, anyway. Turned out Nicolas Vasco and his daughter owned considerable real estate throughout California. With the management company they’d put in place, Sophia and her father put in minimal hours with maximum returns.
In the pale morning light, a mug of black coffee before him, Blayze scrutinized the contents of the first package. It had shown up on her doorstep. Wrapped in shiny white paper, the small box held a giant, pink cupcake with fluffy frosting over an inch high. She hadn’t dared eat it, not knowing whom it was from, but while inspecting the baked good Sophia had noticed a motel keycard tucked into the center.
She had played it off as a joke, figuring someone was toying with her. Happy Birthday—Have a night’s stay at the Maraddo, the most rundown motel in all of San Bernardino.
The second hadn’t been as easy to ignore. The bright blue package contained a set of handcuffs with a note: Let’s play a game. Mind if I bring my gun?
The District Attorney had made a name for himself among the people of San Bernardino, and he wasn’t short on support, but Vasco was gunning for his second run in the DA’s office and—after seeking advice from a trusted legal board—thought it best to keep things hidden from the press for a time. Media attention often gave the offender an appetite for the spotlight. Something they wanted to avoid.
Mind if I bring my gun… “Mind if I bring my fist?” Blayze grumbled. He despised cowards. He’d dealt with all types of terrorists throughout his deployment, but he had a particular distaste for the cowardly ways of those who kept themselves hidden in the shadows, tormenting their victims before they even struck.
The last package she’d received was even more chilling. The note attached said the hostile was taking credit for her mother’s accident, and that he was ready to wreak more deadly havoc. Obviously, Sophia was the target this time, which meant someone either wanted Nicolas Vasco to suffer, or he wanted him to lose the campaign. The former seemed most likely; there were all sorts of ways to mess up someone’s campaign.
A buzz sounded at his phone—a number he didn’t recognize.
He lifted the small device to his ear. “Brockton, here.”
“Hi, this is Sophia Vasco,” came that alluring accent on the other end of the line. Blayze straightened up, flattening a hand on his paperwork, and tried to calm his racing-for-no good-reason heart.
“Hey,” he blurted. “How are you?”
“Fine. Hope you don’t mind that I called you so early.”
He glanced at his watch, already knowing it was just past 6:00 a.m. “No problem.”
“Listen, I called you directly because I don’t think Sutton Smith or my father should be in charge of how things go between you and I.”
“I agree,” Blayze said with a nod.
“I’m not a child, after all.”
Blayze remained quiet after that one; of course, she wasn’t a child.
“Anyway, I want to establish something.”
“Okay.”
It was hard to picture the woman he’d seen at the funeral. Sure, the accent was the same, but this was a whole new approach. No soft words of sympathy. She was all about business, and she wanted to be heard.
“Now,” she continued, “I only agreed to accept protection for the remainder of this campaign, which runs through the rest of October and wraps up November 5th. So that’s approximately two-and-a-half weeks.
“I’ll be traveling throughout the county, working long and late hours, and I’ll be separated from the majority of the campaign team in the process.”
Blayze kept quiet, only nodded in encouragement, though she couldn’t actually see it.
“We’ll stay the first night in my home. I have the guest room ready for you. From there we’ll stay in hotels, a penthouse—same kitchen and living space—with our own bedrooms.”
“Sounds good.”
“And whatever happens,” she said, voice stern. “I don’t want anything hidden from me. If you, Roman, or my father come across anything, I want to be notified as soon as possible, okay?”
He grinned, unleashing his calm, negotiator voice. “Absolutely. I’d never dream of holding something of relevance from you.”
“And one last thing. I don’t like missing events. If at all possible, I’d like to attend every speaking engagement on the schedule, and there are a lot.”
“Okay,” he encouraged, sensing a greater point ahead.
“The thing is, the packages have been coming every two weeks. And if the pattern continues, I’ll be getting one this Friday.”
“That’s right.” This wasn’t news to Blayze; he had an entire map sketched out of what they might expect in the weeks ahead.
“’Course, who knows where they’d deliver it since I’ll be traveling... Anyway,” she said sharply. “If I do get one on Thursday, it might be a whopper. And I might even want to back down, which I can’t imagine happening. But even if I step away from a few of them, there’s one event—well, there are kind of two—but there’s at least one that I absolutely refuse to miss, and that’s the evening before the voting booths open, November 4th. It’s our last chance to really raise awareness among voters who don’t think about it until it nears. And since this isn’t a presidential year, the local networks will be broadcasting live.”
Since talking to Sutton earlier, Blayze had looked into the role of a district attorney. It was no wonder people were voted in rather than assigned. Turned out, DAs held a whole lot of power in the judicial system.
“Okay, so you don’t want to miss any of the engagements,” Blayze repeated, “but if something comes up and we have to make cuts, the event on November 4th is off the table.”
“No, it’s on the table.”
Blayze smiled, wondering if she were just being coy. “Removing it off the table is off the table then.”
She chuckled, the sound warming his insides in a blink. “That’s correct.” Even those two short words sounded so uniquely… like her; the accent suited her and—if he were honest—toyed with him in a way he couldn’t grasp.
The line stayed quiet for a blink. And though he wasn’t in the same room as Ms. Vasco, Blayze could nearly feel the shift in her energy. Similar to that of a freshly deflated balloon. Tension drained. Defenses down. Calm taking over.
“Ms. Vasco,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for making yourself clear.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I think we’re going to get along great.” Hope might have been a more accurate word, but he needed to keep his best foot forward.
“I’m sure we will,” she said.
“Oh, and aren’t you forgetting something?” Blayze regretted asking the second it slipped out of his lips.
“Uh… not that I can think of,” she said.
He shrugged. Why did he suddenly feel like teasing her? “Just thought you might throw out another hooyah cheer. You’re pretty good at that.” He smiled, enjoying the warmth stirring in his belly as he awaited her response.
“Well, aren’t you turning into a lengua largo.”
His brow scrunched. “A what?”
“Lengua largo, long tongue. It’s like a Chatty Kathy, you know?”
No one had accused him of that before.
“See you tomorrow, Blayze.” A click sounded.
Blayze hit the end call button and sank back into his chair. Had she called him by his first name before? He didn’t think so. She definitely hadn’t said it in that snide, playful tone, that was sure. “A lengua largo?” He shook his head as a vision of the intriguing woman came to mind. Kind brown eyes on that flawless face. Blayze might have fought overseas, but she carried herself like a woman armed for an entirel
y different war. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it intimidating.
What had Cannon said about her at the club that night? “…she seems like a very lovely lady.” The man always spoke like a gentleman. And what he’d said was true— Sophia Vasco seemed like the perfect woman, at a glance anyway. The type who might, unlike Emily, actually support a man when he went overseas. A thought that lit sparks low in his belly. Sparks that hadn’t been there for quite some time.
Still, no need to think about her in such a way. In just a few hours, Blayze’s job would begin. He might need to stay physically close in order to protect her, but if he knew what was good for him, Blayze would keep his affections at a safe distance.
Chapter 4
Sophia listened as Isabella, her father’s campaign manager, recited the most important things on today’s agenda. Her father’s campaign team stood packed into the large lobby, filtering through portable tables, water coolers, and a row of printers. Sophia, crammed between a bulletin board and a tower of stacked chairs, placed one neat checkmark beside each appearance that included her. A few universities, a number of press conferences, and a charity banquet to name a few.
A burst of excitement coursed through her as she looked proudly over the list of appearances; she and Papa were going all out this year—divide and conquer at its best. She was ready for it. Last time around, when her mom had been his campaign partner, people had shown nearly as much interest in Camila Vasco as they had her father. Showing a common interest in goals was important, and Sophia was proud to fill her mother’s shoes, assuring voters there was still that strong, female support in his life after Camila’s passing. Sophia had to take leave from her job at the immigration office, but it’d be worth it if her father could hold on to that District Attorney’s chair.
With all the madness going on around her, Sophia was surprised to catch sight of the door just as Blayze Brockton entered. In this part of California, sandy blond hair wasn’t an uncommon sight. But there was nothing else about Blayze Brockton she’d call common. Papa had told him not to bother wearing a suit, as it might make him stand out. Looked like he’d stand out no matter what he wore; the massive size of him alone was intimidating.
The other men in the room shifted as he strode by. Straightening their posture or broadening their chest span in some unnatural looking stretch. Jane, one of the college interns, fanned her face, her eyes never leaving him as he weaved behind the water cooler to stand in a corner. Even Isabella, bless her, stammered over whatever she’d been saying.
Blayze had no idea where Sophia was in the crowd. Maybe she’d slip out of her heels and remain hidden for a few minutes more.
Blayze gave a distinct head nod to a cluster of gawking female interns. Just as Sophia began to wonder when he’d locate her, he turned, shooting a pointed look at Sophia like she had a bullseye pasted on her face. A face that was quickly turning as red as a bullseye under his gaze.
For a moment, it felt like a stare-down. Gorgeous blue eyes presenting a challenge of sorts. The corner of his mouth quirked the slightest bit. Sophia’s did too. It seemed as long as she held his gaze he’d do the same. At last she tore her eyes from him and forced her attention back to her notes, but through the lined pages and carefully spelled out words, all she could see was him. That strong, masculine jaw. Those stormy blue eyes. And that spark of amusement lingering somewhere on his sculpted lips. The heavens would have to help her now—she was distracted just having him in the same room.
As her father took the mic, thanking everyone in advance for their hard work and efforts, Sophia looked up to catch a wry smile from even him. As if he knew the effect Blayze had had on her.
The idea pricked at her pride. Sure, she hadn’t dated a whole lot over the years, but it wasn’t like she was starved for affection.
“As you can all see on the monitors,” her father said, “we still have a generous lead—”
“But that’s no reason to get lazy,” Isabella blurted over him. She took the microphone from his hand. “Things can shift on a dime, and we really want to keep our District Attorney behind that desk, right everyone?”
“Right,” Sophia cheered. She caught eyes with Blayze once more as she lowered her exuberantly raised fist, a wave of déjà vu pouring in.
“Ms. Vasco,” a young voice came. “Do you have anything you’d like us to help you with today?”
Sophia snapped out of her stupor in time to realize the crowd had dispersed. She glanced to the young girl who’d addressed her. The intern who’d been gawking at Blayze.
“Hi, Jane.” She double-checked the blonde’s nametag. “I know there’s something I needed. Let me see…” Sophia scanned over her notes as a few others huddled around her.
“I want to help too if you have enough work to go around,” Matteo said.
“Shut up, punk. I was here first,” came the redhead beside Jane. A tall, gawky kid named Frank. Frank was one of the easy ones to remember, since he always drew a likeness of Frankenstein’s profile at the squared corner of his nametag, stitches and all.
Sophia chuckled, gaze darting to the spot where Blayze had been standing.
Gone, hmm. Not that she needed to know where he’d gone because she wasn’t the one keeping track of him. It was supposed to go the other way around.
“Ah, here it is,” she blurted as she located the item on her list. “I need three-thousand letters sent out by snail mail, not email, which means lots of envelope stuffing. Sounds like the perfect job for a wannabe district attorney, right?”
“Well, if we want the job one day, we’ve got to know the campaigning side of it too,” Jane said.
Sophia smiled. “Absolutely, Jane. What’s your email address? I’ll send you the PDF and you can have these guys help you out.” She motioned to the others.
“Perfect!” The girl listed off her email address. Once she was through, Frank blurted his out as well.
“In case you need it,” he joked.
Sophia gave Jane a nod. “I’ll send that out in the next ten minutes. Thanks for your help, guys.” She wasn’t a stranger to the immature behavior displayed by some of the male interns, but that didn’t mean she was a fan of it either. The fact was, she expected college-aged men to act like men. Especially if they were going through law school with hopes of one day becoming a DA.
She highly doubted the two stooges would act nearly as goofy and desperate to help if she weren’t the opposite sex.
The distinct sound of a man clearing his throat caused Sophia to spin on one heel. And there he was. Dressed in gray Dockers and a shirt too close to black to be gray. Yet there was a hint of ash speckled throughout the fabric, reflecting the stormy blue color in his eyes.
“Hi,” she said, attempting a nod as indiscernible as the one he’d given her earlier.
His eyes swept over the room before landing back on her. “I’d like to go over your plans for the week.”
Sophia thought about that for a microsecond, recalling the few hundred things she wanted to cross off her list before lunch. “I’ve got a ton of things that need to be done in the next few hours,” she said. “Mind if we do it over a bite to eat?”
Blayze shook his head. “Not at all.”
There. That wasn’t so bad. Now maybe she could have her headspace back so she could get some work done.
“So,” he said as he glanced down at her list once more. “Where we headed?”
We? How would she ever get used to this? “My office,” she said, and then led the way.
The woman didn’t like him. That much was clear. Which was stupid because she didn’t even know him. Stop sulking, Blayze, and focus on your job. He sank into a collapsible chair by the window in what he guessed was Sophia’s temporary office.
“You can sit in one of the more comfortable chairs if you’d like.”
He shook his head. “No thanks.” He pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket and made a list of a few of the people who’d stood out t
o him at the campaign meeting. Those he didn’t have a name for he mentioned by description. A quick flip of the page had him looking at the list of things he wanted to ask Sophia, something they might not have time for over a simple bite to eat.
His mind drifted back to some of the other Warrior Project jobs he’d taken on for Sutton since receiving that party invite to his mansion, which turned out to be more than a mingling of high society and retired SEALs.
Some jobs required more detective work than others, something Sutton had taken into account, commissioning a team of private investigators as well. But every protection job Blayze accepted had required a lot of brains to go with the brawn. Especially the hostage situations where he’d been called on to perform last-minute negotiations. Something he specialized in out in the field as well. It was different from battling with weapons. Negotiations had more to do with getting in someone’s head.
“Mr. Brockton?”
Blayze spun in his chair to see Nicolas Vasco in the doorway of Sophia’s office. “Mind if I speak to you for a moment?”
Blayze looked at Sophia in time to see her shoot a warning look to her dad. “Not at all,” he said. “Though, Sophia has asked that we not discuss things without her present. You don’t mind if we remain here, do you?”
Nicolas moved his focus from Blayze to Sophia. “It’s just about a few things.”
“Papi, do you really think it’s necessary?” Sophia asked.
The air got thick quick. Obviously, this was a source of tension between them. Blayze kept quiet as Mr. Vasco’s nostrils flared. “Si, bonita. Now, do you want us to talk in here, or would you like me to take this into my office?”
Sophia dropped her pen, flattened her hand on a stack of papers, and nodded. “Here.”
Mr. Vasco allowed for a triumphant grin and pointed to the couch across from Sophia’s desk. “Please, Mr. Brockton. Let’s sit.”
Blayze took a seat as Nicolas sank into the spot beside him. Though the District Attorney had spent most of his career as a prosecutor, the man had that politician look to him. Clean-shaven, poised, and polished around the edges. Blayze half-expected to hear a high-pitched chime as he flashed his wide, sparkling grin.
The Honorable Warrior Page 2