Vanguard Security_A Military Bodyguard Romance

by S. J. Bishop

  “Man, we’re gonna have our work cut out for us,” I sighed.

  “Not really. Cruz and a couple of the guys are already there, setting up the security system. I’m sure they got the brunt of it.” Martin laughed. I wondered if visions of haunted, old houses flashed through his head as they did mine.

  “Poor Cruz. We owe him so much,” I observed.

  “Yeah, he’s been a good kid. I was worried about bringing him on at first. Ma and his Grandmother go way back. I definitely felt the pressure to keep him safe when he went on tour with me.”

  I squeezed Martin’s hand. “And you did. You’re a natural protector.”

  He smiled at me. “Yeah, I’m amazing.” I slapped him again, lightly. “But Cruz has really come into his own. I gotta remind myself he’s not that twenty-something kid anymore.”

  “I’m twenty-something, you know.” Did he see me as just a kid?

  “You’ve been an adult your entire life, Vanessa. I can see it in your eyes.”

  I turned those eyes away from him and watched the mountains outside my window. That’s why we’re here. To leave that life behind us.

  Thankfully, it didn’t take long to arrive at the small, white house. As we turned on the gravel road, I was taken aback by the sprawling green fields on either side. I’d thought our house and property were big, but here, normal middle-American people had the real thing.

  I smiled at the thoughts that danced through my head: sitting on the wrap-around porch with Martin, rocking on old wooden chairs, and watching the stars. Planting a garden in the back to grow my own food, and more, enough room to grow crops for an entire city. I wondered how pure and crisp the mountain waters tasted.

  “You coming?” Martin asked. Somehow, he’d gotten out of the truck and made it all the way to the front steps while I was busy daydreaming.

  31

  Martin

  Vanessa had made herself at home, just like I’d hoped. The first night we’d made love, which to my surprise was how I categorized what went on between us, was a bit awkward. I’d never brought a woman home here. But we quickly got over that, and every night since – and some afternoons or mornings – we had no more reservations.

  On our fifth night in the house, the last one before Ma’s service, we found ourselves upstairs in the attic. Nostalgia had a firm hold on me as we pored over the boxes of handwritten letters Ma had stashed up there for decades. I mentally kicked myself for never doing this with her, but I was glad I had Vanessa by my side to take this journey with me. Ma would have loved her.

  “Look,” Vanessa whispered, unfolding some pages that were in one of the closer boxes. She scanned it, then smiled wide. “His name is Ronaldo.”

  “Who?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

  “Cruz.” She showed me the paper. Ma had saved letters between herself and Cruz’s grandmother, Jennie. I looked over the broad, looping script, marveling at the lost art of letter writing that the older generation had mastered. “Doesn’t sound right,” I said, handing the paper back to her.

  “Ha,” Vanessa laughed, pushing her imaginary glasses up. I kissed her. “What was that for?”

  “You’re just too beautiful sometimes.”

  “Better watch it; you’re not a machine, remember?” She raised her eyebrows at me. We’d already spent hours rolling around that afternoon.

  As I leaned over to show her what a real machine could do, she gasped and thrust an old crumpled paper in my face. “What?” I asked.

  “Do you know where your name came from?”

  “Um, my parents,” I said matter-of-factly and shrugged.

  She ruffled the page at me, and I took it. It was a love letter from my father. They’d been separated for a few months while Ma was pregnant with me, something to do with his job with the government, if I remembered correctly. “I don’t want to read that.” I tried to hand it back to her, not ready to see anything intimate between my parents.

  “Here,” Vanessa pointed at a particular paragraph toward the bottom of the page. In it, my father had agreed to name me Maxwell, after Ma’s brother who’d died in the war just two years earlier. A pang of grief struck me. But then, it eased quickly, replaced with a sense of pride. Named after a soldier, a hero no less. It made my decision to go into the service that more poignant. I wondered what Ma had thought when I’d informed them of my decision after it had already been made. Whatever pain it had caused her, I never saw it. She’d only hugged me and said she was proud of me.

  The next morning as we gathered by Ma’s graveside for the service, I scanned the surroundings for anyone who didn’t belong. Cruz stood guard over Vanessa in the event that anything did go down, and I tried to focus on the words Reverend Carmichael said. I was distracted by the unfortunate coincidence of his name being that of the nursing home where Ma had spent her last days.

  A car in the distance backfired, and I lunged toward Vanessa, knocking Cruz out of the way.

  “Martin!” they both said, trying not to raise their voices.

  “Sorry, I thought–” I held Vanessa tight.

  She pulled herself from my grip. “It’s OK. Cruz will keep me safe. You need to think about yourself right now.” She kissed me, so soft, and turned me around.

  I don’t want to.

  Slowly, I made my way back to Ma’s casket, so small and final.

  Reverend Carmichael finished his sermon and came over to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “Whenever you’re ready,” he whispered.

  I inched closer to Ma, her face so serene, as if she were just taking a nap. She looked so much like herself. I bent over and kissed her on her cheek, then her forehead.

  “Ma, I found these.” I pulled a small stack of letters from my breast pocket and kissed them. “I hope they bring you comfort, wherever you are. You and Pop had something special. I see that now. I hope you find your way to him.” I could barely get the words out by then. So I just thought the rest of it, feeling that it didn’t matter. She’d hear me somehow.

  I placed the letters between her folded hands and stepped back, nodding at Reverend Carmichael. Hands pulled me back as they closed the casket and began lowering Ma into the ground. I closed my eyes, remembering how small I‘d been when we did the same with Pop’s casket. How Ma had held me that night, telling me that I was her strong man.

  I smelled Vanessa’s perfume come up behind me and felt her hand slip effortlessly into mine. I felt so relieved at that moment that someone else could be the strong one. Turning to her, I wiped the tears from her eyes, and thanked her for being there for me.

  “I’m not going anywhere, ever. You have my word.” She kissed me, and I allowed her and Cruz to walk me back to the car.

  32

  Vanessa

  The funeral took its toll on Martin. I did everything in my power to make things easier on him, remembering how difficult life had been for me after my own mom’s death. The most important thing to me then had been to get back to work and keep busy.

  About a month after moving to Caldwell, I found a job at a local non-profit organization, finally putting my Environmental Law degree to work. Mr. Condry, my employer, was working hard on a water toxicity issue in the unincorporated towns around Caldwell. Hundreds of people were sick, which was a large percentage of the population, considering there were only twenty-five hundred people in the area.

  So that became our lives for a while. I spent my days trudging through wooded areas, testing all available water sources and interviewing sick residents. Martin spent his days following me, securing my surroundings, and treating me to afternoon delights whenever the mood struck us. Which was often.

  Cruz had visited a couple times over the few weeks since we’d made his mom’s house ours. Martin said they didn’t feel comfortable talking about our situation over the radios or phones. Not knowing how Amara was getting his information weighed on them both. Danger lurked around every corner, creating a lot of tension between us.

  I wanted to ma
ke the most of this new life, becoming the woman I’d always known I could be. I had a job helping people, and I had Martin. What more could I want? I just wished he would relax and believe that we were finally safe.

  “Your father doesn’t think we’re safe, as evidenced by the large sums of cash he sends with Cruz,” Martin said, probably for the tenth time.

  “Daddy isn’t here. He doesn’t see what I see.” I dropped the large stack of folders on the kitchen table, which had become my makeshift office.

  “I think you’re working too hard.” Martin came to me, wiping sweat from my forehead. “You’re pale. Why are you out there taking samples? You’re a lawyer. You should be inside, at a nice, boring desk.”

  “I’m fine. Besides, everyone in the office is sick. I’m trying not to catch it.” I swatted his hand away. “As much as I hate to say it, we’re gonna have to stay on bottled water a bit longer. I think it’s time I got my own car. You need to let me drive myself around. That’s the whole reason we came here. So we could get back to normal where nobody knows me.” I stared him down.

  “We’re fine here. We have a well. I’ve been thinking about it already, and you can drive Rhonda. I’ll take Ma’s car around if I need anything.” He eyed me suspiciously. “This thing’s not catching, is it?”

  “No, of course not. It’s in the water table. You have to drink it to get sick. The people getting it now have been drinking from the source for years.” I stopped, the words sinking in.

  Martin continued shining his shoes, oblivious.

  Looking at my phone app, I did some quick calculations. “Um, I need to run to the store real quick. Girl stuff.” I didn’t quite lie. I grabbed the keys and my purse and tried to get to the truck before he noticed.

  It didn’t work. “You can’t go alone!” Martin yelled, running after me.

  “I said girl stuff!” I rolled down the window and waved him back in the house.

  “I don’t care!” Martin climbed in the truck and put on his seatbelt.

  “OK, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  An hour later, we sat in the parking lot of a local mom and pop drug store, staring at two white plastic sticks and four pink lines.

  “What are we gonna do?” Martin’s voice was so low I wouldn’t have understood what he’d said if I wasn’t looking right at him. Which was good, because I couldn’t hear anything over my heart beating in my ears.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered back.

  Martin’s face was colorless. I could only imagine what this meant for him. We had never talked about any of this. We’d just been having fun. Yeah, it was intense, and we shared a strong connection. I had no doubt about that, about how strongly he felt for me. But this. This was crazy!

  And yet, I had to work so hard to stifle the smile that kept trying to dance across my face. A baby.

  “Your father,” Martin whispered, still barely audible.

  “Shit,” I agreed. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I’d said it. Even as they words came out of my mouth, I tried to swallow them back. I wasn’t sorry. I was having a baby!

  Martin turned to me, still sitting in the passenger seat. He’d at least had the presence of mind to let me go in the store alone for my ‘girl stuff.’ He took my hand in his, then caressed my cheek with the other. “Don’t you dare be sorry. This isn’t what I’d planned on,” he smiled, “but then, I never could have planned for someone like you in my life.”

  I teared up at the kindness in his voice and his touch. It had taken a few minutes to snap out of the shock and say something, but when he did, it was what I’d needed. He wiped the tears from my cheek and laughed. “Guess I’d better get used to that, huh?”

  I stuck my tongue out at him and turned to face the front of the truck again, raising my hand to start it. Then I stopped. “Explains why my boobs were so tender last night,” I mused, partly to myself.

  “Oh, God. I hope I wasn’t too rough.” He put his hand over his mouth.

  “No,” I laughed. “I think you were exactly rough enough.” The memory of the earthquake he’d caused in me the night before came flooding back.

  “Your father,” Martin killed the mood. “My Morality Clause.” He shook his head, lowering it into his hands.

  “We won’t say anything to Daddy. But maybe this is a good time to convince him that your services are no longer needed.” I turned the key and started the truck.

  “Are you good to drive?” Martin raised his head. “Want me to?”

  “It’s gonna be a long nine months if you fret over me like a sexier version of Ms. Rizzo!”

  “Who?” Martin screwed his eyebrows up.

  “My nanny. She’s gonna be so excited! Maybe we can bring her up here to help with the baby…” I trailed off, my mind wheeling with nursery colors and pre-school applications.

  Through the haze, I heard Martin saying something about my father not finding out, and waved him away. “Eventually. We’ve got time.” I smiled at him, my eyes glazing over again with preparations.

  33

  Martin

  Vanessa and I had gotten used to the idea of having a baby around. It took me a few days to come around; the shock about did me in. But by week fifteen, a tiny little belly started popping out under her clothes. It drove her crazy because none of her pants fit, but it drove me crazy for a completely different reason. She was carrying my baby, and she’d never looked more beautiful.

  I’d also convinced her to take a desk job at the law firm, still not sure why she had been out in the field testing water in the first place. I later learned from Mr. Condry that she had insisted. Sounded about right.

  With her secure every day from eight to five, I began the daunting task of baby-proofing Ma’s – my – house. I’d argued that I’d grown up in that house and I’d turned out just fine. The sideways look she’d given me at that didn’t look too amused.

  After she left for work I texted her, putting up one last fight about my collectible G.I. Joe figures being relegated to the attic. She didn’t answer, which I took as a sign that I’d better do as I was told. So I blasted the radio and prepared the house for every possible way a baby could hurt itself. As I was taking yet another box of my ‘toys’ up to the attic for safe keeping, a news report broke in, cutting off the last guitar riff of Any Way You Want It.

  “Bruce Reid here from the WKTK news desk. There are reports that a female’s body was found in a newer model SUV this morning near Bennett Street. The woman, who deputies say appears to be in her early to mid-twenties, died of an apparent gunshot wound.”

  I dropped the box of toys and ran downstairs to the kitchen. No messages! Snatching up my keys, I called Vanessa… twice. Voicemail.

  Then I broke protocol – again – and dialed Cruz’s number. “Get here now!” I hung up and tried Vanessa’s number again and again.

  When I had almost reached the Condry and White office downtown, my phone rang. “What in the world are you doing? Stalker!” Vanessa’s sweet, beautiful voice teased. “Didn’t we already have a talk about you being an overprotective Daddy? You’ve got a few more months to go before it’s your turn.”

  “Have you seen the news?”

  She made no sound. I could picture the laugh fading from her face on the other end of the line. “What’s wrong? Is it Daddy?”

  “No. No. You’re father’s fine. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  “What’s going on, Martin? You’re scaring me.”

  “Just gather your things. Tell Mr. Condry you’re working from home for a while. Blame it on the baby.”

  “That’s bad luck.”

  “Whatever you have to say. You’re coming home. You have ten minutes.” I hung up and white-knuckled the steering wheel.

  Seven minutes later, I squealed into the parking lot and landed Ma’s old Camry beside Rhonda. As I entered the law office, Vanessa and both her bosses were standing in front of a small television.

  “After notifying the ne
xt of kin, the coroner has released the name of the woman found this morning on Bennett Street. Vanessa Landrell had recently moved to Caldwell, only three months ago. No word yet on the motive. Stay tuned to News Ten for more information.”

  Vanessa ran to me, trembling. “Oh, Martin. Do you think…” She buried her face in my chest.

  “We can’t take any chances. Cruz is on his way. Let’s get you home.” I pulled her away from me, against every instinct.

  Mr. Condry, tall and rather fit for his advanced age, approached us. “What are you two mixed up in? Is that your doing?” He pointed at the small television.

  Vanessa, who’d begun to cry, said, “Of course not!” but her voice betrayed her.

  “I don’t know what this is but I want no part of it. I can’t have this, or you, associated with my company. People are counting on us to–”

  Whatever he said after that, we didn’t hear. I ushered Vanessa out the door and helped her into Ma’s car. Rhonda was too noticeable. We needed to blend in.

  Just as we turned the corner toward the house, my phone rang again. I looked at the caller ID and took a deep breath, cracking my neck in preparation. “Sir, she’s fine.”

  “There are reports…” Marco was furious.

  “Do you have people watching us, Mr. Genovese?” How did he know so fast?

  “Of course I do! You have my princess a thousand miles away! And then something like this happens!”

  I didn’t bother to correct him on the mileage. He had a point. I’d let my guard down, and I deserved whatever he threw at me. So I said nothing and took the tirade.