Vanguard Security_A Military Bodyguard Romance

by S. J. Bishop

  “Of course,” Martin replied. I heard him standing straighter, stiff. I bet if I turned back around, I’d see him saluting.

  Needing a moment to recover, I said, “I think I will make that phone call now. In private.”

  “That’s not possible, Ms. Genovese.” He waded toward me.

  “I need to tell her where to find some very personal things, and I’d rather not have you know all my secrets,” I resisted. “A girl’s got to keep some mystery about her.” I forced laughter and lightness into my voice.

  “But of course. I’ll watch your line from the truck.”

  “Great. You and Rhonda cover me.”

  As I watched him trudge up the embankment in wet shoes and slacks, I felt a twinge of desire. This man, this strange, strange man had just walked — fully clothed — into the water to comfort me.

  The thought of calling Ophelia repulsed me, especially after the moment I’d just had — thought I’d had — with Martin. Deciding to just get it over with, I dialed her number. I hated myself for talking to her in our spot, like I was betraying my mom. But I didn’t have much time to wallow. She picked up on the first ring.

  Minutes later, with Ophelia sworn to secrecy about my plans, I said a quick prayer to my mom and headed back up the river bank. Martin paced near the back of Rhonda, on his phone. Even engrossed in his conversation, his eyes never left me. I wondered, hoped, if he was thinking the same things about me that I’d been thinking about him. The way he’d held my hand earlier, lingering long after he’d finished speaking, and this soft moment we’d shared just a few minutes ago. I got the feeling it was a mutual attraction.

  As I approached the truck, he motioned quickly with his hands toward the truck. “Get in!” he said gruffly. So much for those ‘moments.’

  I climbed in the passenger side and buckled my seat belt.

  The second Martin opened his door, the Bluetooth connected to his phone, and I heard another man with an almost imperceptible Spanish accent say, “They found you.”

  11

  Martin

  I’d taken every evasive measure in my arsenal, and this black Caddy was still on my ass. It must’ve been a new driver, one with actual skill. I led him out of the city, as far away from the public as possible. “Hang on,” I told Vanessa, while instinctively reaching across her chest to brace her against the seat.

  With my free hand, I spun the steering wheel to the left and slammed on the brakes. Gravity forced her body closer; we almost occupied the same space in the driver’s seat. I feared I’d overdone the maneuver, that we’d end up on two wheels. But just as I was about to try to correct the action, our equilibrium resettled back to the midpoint.

  We were now facing the opposite direction, and I got a good look at the new driver of the Cadillac as he flew past us.

  “What the hell just happened?” Cruz yelled through the truck’s speakers.

  “Under control. He’s heading South on Delaware.”

  “Copy.”

  In my rear-view mirror, I watched the Caddy attempt to pull the same maneuver and fail. He skidded into the grass, facing east. Not quite, buddy. “He’s stuck for the moment. Now would be a good time.”

  “ETA, two minutes.”

  I floored it and finally took a moment to look over at Vanessa. She was panting, my arm still firm against her chest, her eyes wide. “You OK?” I asked.

  “That was awesome!” A smile spread across her face.

  “You like that?” I didn’t remove my arm, although I knew I should, and neither did she. “I bet your tree hugging car can’t do that.”

  “I wouldn’t call an Audi A8 a tree hugger, but it was a present. And I do love it.” A twinge of guilt entered her normally musical tone.

  “I’m sure Mother Nature will forgive you. Just drink less bottled water. Problem solved.”

  “You drink bottled water?” she gasped.

  “Noooo.” Smooth.

  Vanessa pried my arm off her chest. “I believe the coast is clear now.” She shot me a wicked glance.

  “Well, Cruz? Is she right?” I asked the phone, which I believe we both forgot was still live.

  “Working on that,” he replied.

  “We’re gonna make our way to the safe house. Let me know when it’s secure on your end.”

  “Copy.”

  Vanessa’s smile faded. “A safe house? Is that a real thing?”

  “It’s safe; don’t worry. Hence the name.”

  Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the predetermined location, and I secured the perimeter before allowing Vanessa to enter. I rested my hand in the small of her back to assist her up the stairs. This was how I discovered the tank top she wore had no back. Our skin touched, and electricity shot through my entire body. Tiny goose bumps rippled across her back, signaling that our skin-to-skin contact had the same effect on her. I snatched my hand away and slammed the door. “Sorry, Ms. Genovese. I wasn’t aware,” I stammered.

  “Quite alright.” As she brushed past me, she left no room between us. If I inhaled, our bodies would be completely pressed together. “Where’s my room?”

  “Uh, that way.” I pointed down the hallway. “I’m right across the hall should you need anything.”

  “Good to know.” Her voice was low, husky. This woman was not the little princess Mr. Genovese had led me to believe she was.

  A booming knock on the door broke our lingering eye contact. “Martin, it’s me,” Cruz’s voice permeated the heavy wooden door.

  I turned the latch and pulled the door open. “How did you get here so fast?”

  “Some of us don’t drive like Grandpas.”

  “Grandpa? You should’ve seen the sweet ass turn I did. Got him off our tails, didn’t I?”

  “If you say so, old—” he stopped. His eyes had found Vanessa, standing tall and sleek in the middle of the room. I watched his chest inflate and jut out like a puffer fish. The reptilian part of my brain wanted to slug him.

  “Vanessa, this is Cruz. My helper.” Stupid pride.

  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He extended a hand. One corner of her lip rose, like the Joker’s grin. She knew the power she wielded.

  I was so focused on Vanessa that I didn’t see the hitch in Cruz’s step until he was across the room. “What happened there?” I asked.

  “Had to ram him a little to get my point across. Think I tweaked my back or something. It’s nothing.”

  “And I’m the Grandpa?” I teased the youngster. More for Vanessa’s benefit than his.

  In my head, I ran every terrible scenario where Cruz, my former student and trusted family friend, died horribly at the tender age of thirty-two. I was to blame in every one of them, naturally. Fear took hold, and I wondered if bringing him on for such a dangerous job was the right thing.

  That night, after sending Cruz off with his marching orders for the night and making sure Vanessa was secure in her quarters, I attempted to drift off. The events of the day swirled in my head, and I ran every action through my mental analysis, like a starting quarterback reviewing tapes. Did I put the target in undue danger, showing off with my maneuvers? Was it a bad idea to bring Cruz on? Am I now responsible for two lives? And the way he looked at her! They are closer in age, his thirty-two to her…what? Twenty-three or four? Did I really walk right into the water with my shoes on? What the hell was that?

  The next thing I knew, Vanessa and I were back in that stream. She was upset, confused, and near tears. We were both soaking wet. I took her in my arms, enfolding her in my embrace, and lifted her head to kiss her. With a strength that caught me off guard, she kissed me back. We tumbled into the water. As it lapped over us, the coolness evaporated into smoke against our burning flesh. She tore at my zipper; her clothes were torn away by crashing waves.

  I bolted upright just in time to feel the spasms rip through me. My throat hurt. Was I moaning? I rolled out of bed and attempted to clean up the first dream I’d had like that in ten years.

&nbs
p; 12

  Vanessa

  Is there something you want to say?” I asked Martin after the hundredth time I’d caught him staring at me. And just like every time before, he quickly averted his gaze, pretending to adjust the thermostat or check his phone for a nonexistent message. That was the funniest of all, considering he never texted. I’d heard the guys on the phone making fun of him for it many times.

  “Course not.” Martin cleared his throat and walked down the hallway toward his room, his other favorite way of avoiding me.

  “Do I annoy you or something?” I called after him. I stood with my hand on my hip, waiting, as he peeked his head back out of the doorway.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve been stuck in this place for a week now, and you spend all of your time in that damn room. Do I bother you?”

  “No, I just… I’m working.”

  “At ten o’clock at night?” I cocked my head at him. Yeah right, buddy.

  “I’m always working. Comes with the territory.” He disappeared again.

  “Well, I’m bored out of my mind. Come play cards with me or something.” I walked down the hallway and banged on his door. He opened it.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He tried to close the door again, but I stopped it with my foot.

  “Fine, let’s both do some work in here.” I attempted to barge in the room, pushing past him, but he didn’t move. His body didn’t give an inch, and I collided into him. Exactly what I had in mind, anyway.

  Without the slightest effort, Martin picked me up and set me down again in the hallway. “Poker?” he asked.

  “Strip?” I suggested, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face.

  “Or we can retire to our separate rooms for the night.” He drove a hard bargain.

  “Fine,” I drew the word out like a petulant five-year-old. “But we’re drinking!”

  “Are you old enough?”

  I spun around, ready to glare at him for the snide remark, but his face betrayed genuine concern. “I’m twenty-four, a college graduate, and have two jobs.” I stared him down, deadpan.

  “Well, from the way your father talked in our meeting, I expected to see a little girl with pig tails and skinned-up knees.” He smiled for the first time since we’d met.

  “I assure you, I’m not a little girl,” I said with my best ‘come hither’ husk. “But the pig tails and skinned knees can surely be arranged.” I winked, turned, and sauntered down the hallway, completely sure he was watching intently as I did.

  With drinks poured — a white wine for me and a dark, imported beer for him — we settled at the dining room table. As I watched him shuffle the cards, expertly manipulating the deck like a pro, I bit my lip as seductively as possible and offered, “I really think this should be strip poker.”

  “Not that it wouldn’t make my night, Ms. Genovese, but I made a promise to your father, and I intend to keep it.”

  “I’ve seen you looking at me, Martin. And we’re both adults here.” I gulped my wine for courage.

  “Adults with Morality Clauses.” He dealt the first of many hands of non-strip poker.

  Sometime after midnight, after at least three refills for both of us, I started feeling the heat from the alcohol. “I’m so hot.” I loosened the top button of my silk tankini. His eyes bore into my already burning flesh, now exposed, and I watched him squirm in his seat. Reaching my hand across the table, I folded the cards he was still gripping with everything he had. “I won’t tell.”

  Martin removed my hand with his other hand, and I realized that he was on fire worse than I was. The thought of that fire engulfing me caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. His voice sounded much deeper, vibrating the air between us as he chided me, “Please, don’t.”

  I obeyed, not because of the order, but because of the pleading tone behind it. “I want you.” The excuse of alcohol emboldened me. “And I know you want me. It’s that simple. We don’t have to fight it.” I stood and leaned over the table, my face inches from his, and my now loosened shirt fell away to reveal ample, purposeful cleavage. I’d been wearing the same water bra for three days, hoping my chance to pounce would come.

  “Ms. Genovese, please.” His desperation became more evident when his voice cracked. If I could just push a little harder.

  “You’re a gorgeous giant mountain, and I want to climb you.” I took his hand, still clutching the cards, and pulled it to my left breast.

  He let it linger, those stark, green eyes following. I watched them trace the curvature of my bra and the mound that spilled forth from it. “We can’t do this!” Martin jerked his hand away, and his eyes. “I can’t take much more of this, either. You know every inch of me wants you, but I just can’t.” Again, he adjusted himself in his chair. “So, why don’t we talk about something less… dangerous?”

  I plopped down on my chair, dejected. “My graduation is next week. And I’m going.”

  “Negative.” And just like that, he was back in control.

  “I worked my ass off for this degree, and I’m going to my graduation ceremony like a normal person. My father doesn’t control me, and his life doesn’t define me. The sooner we all figure that out, the better.” I chugged the last bit of wine in my glass and stormed off, slamming the door to my bedroom for good measure.

  13

  Martin

  Vanessa and I argued again the next morning about her graduation, but it soon became clear that I was going to lose, which was fine considering I’d almost lost the battle last night as well. The stakes for that one were much higher, though, and controlling myself was much harder. If agreeing to this graduation ceremony got her mind off what both of us were thinking, it was worth it. Besides, all that hard work shouldn’t go unrecognized. I remembered my graduation from the academy fondly. Ma had been so proud, sitting there in the front row with her best dress, even dusting off an old hat from the attic and adding some lace — which she had been sure to remind me of at least three times during the ceremony. Each time like it had been the first. I probably should have noticed the signs way back then.

  “What are you carrying?” Cruz broke into my train of thought. He’d arrived early, before the sun even, to get a jump on the security setup for our outing. He’d also taken Vanessa’s side in our disagreement the other day, a fact which I couldn’t help but wonder the motivation for. Clearly, venturing outside and to a high traffic area wasn’t the best decision for a security firm.

  “Two service revolvers.” I patted the gun on my hip and raised my pant leg to show the other.

  “Should we consider non-lethal options?” He raised those bushy brows at me.

  “No, not worth the risk.” If someone makes a move on her, I many only have one shot. “Where are we on the locals?”

  “Not good, I’m afraid. Still working on it.” Cruz frowned, and I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “What’s the issue? She’s in danger, and she lives in their city.”

  “She’s also part of a major crime syndicate family that they don’t want to touch. And who knows how high up the payroll goes?” Cruz shrugged and dropped a large box of cameras and listening devices on the couch. I wasn’t satisfied with the level of security in the safe house, so we’d spent two days bringing it up to par. Cameras, motion sensors, flood lights — if I could build a privacy fence around the entire property in two days, I would have. But this would have to do for now.

  Pacing the hallway, I took out my phone and dialed Commander Phillips. It rang four times before he picked up, making me wonder if he’d wanted to send me to voicemail. He answered with, “I know; I’m working on it.”

  “I can’t leave her vulnerable, sir.” I passed by Vanessa’s door and peeked in, innocently, out of the corner of my eye. She was so happy, busily setting out clothes and thumbing through jewelry in her suitcase. I smiled in spite of myself.

  “And she won’t be. If I have
to drive down there myself.”

  “Drive down here from where?” I stopped. Vanessa was clad only in a bra and panties. The creamy outline of her torso was lit by the sunlight filtering through the side window, a delicious contrast to the stiff, black bra and high-cut thong. Of course she wears thongs. I felt the instant reaction deep in my core, and then I was keenly aware of another sensation, her eyes on me.

  “Figure of speech, Martin. Just rest assured that we’re going to have a presence at the graduation.” Commander Phillips disconnected before I could make more demands. I looked back at Vanessa, unable to move, leave, or breathe at that moment.

  She held up a green dress to her body, the silhouette flowing in an imperceptible breeze and causing a brief glimpse at her taut, slender midsection every few seconds. I found myself counting the moments between those billows of fabric, each a study in the ecstasy of agony.

  “Martin!” she yelled.

  “Hmm?” I knew my face was red. I could feel the burn in my cheeks.

  “Do you like this dress for the ceremony?” Her eyes twinkled, and she pushed her finger up the bridge of her nose, between her eyes, as if she were repositioning a pair of glasses. She’d done this countless times before, leading me to assume that she’d worn glasses at one time, for a long time, in her life. But although I’d seen it many times before, every time she did it, subconsciously I’m sure, it chipped away at the wall I’d built around my heart, my honor, and my resolve as a man.

  “It looks very pretty. A bit low cut,” I shouldn’t have added. My only thought was all of the men getting a good look at her curves – Cruz in particular. The beast inside me roared to protect his perimeter, knowing full well she wasn’t mine. “Sorry, it’s just…”

  “Not what they wore in your day?” She slinked toward me, the dress swaying even more with the movement of her hips.