Vanguard Security_A Military Bodyguard Romance

by S. J. Bishop

  I couldn’t answer at first. The suddenness of it all and the news Lauren had dropped on me last night had barely given me an opportunity to think of something so superficial. “Um… I guess so.” I shrugged. Lauren wasn’t unattractive. She had a fine complexion, sharp features, and a tall, thin frame.

  “Do you like her?” Gina tottered on her feet. “You know… do you like-like her?”

  “She’s just a friend,” I answered.

  She seemed disappointed. “But she’s pretty…”

  I squatted down so I was eye level with my daughter before I placed my hands on her arms. “Liking someone is more than just thinking they’re pretty. You have to like them for more than that.”

  She cocked her head, not quite understanding.

  “Don’t worry about it. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  She looked like she wanted to say something else, but just then, the bus arrived. As soon as the doors opened, she scrambled inside, eager to be with her friends. She turned back and waved at me. I waved back.

  Usually, when the bus rolled away, I would walk back home and start getting ready for work, but today, I lingered. I wasn’t quite ready to face the woman in my kitchen just yet.

  A part of me still couldn’t believe that this was happening. I had donated sperm almost ten years ago. When I had done it, I hadn’t thought anything of it. After all, what were the odds that someone would actually use my sperm to get pregnant? And even if someone did, what were the odds they would come knocking on my door at two in the morning? Better than astronomical, apparently…

  I knew, realistically, that I had no legal obligation to support this woman, but I had a moral obligation. She was seven months pregnant with my child. I couldn’t possibly abandon her when I knew she had lost her job. After a quick search in the database last night, I knew her story had been true – even the part about the false allegation. She had fallen on hard times, as I once had. I felt it was my duty to help her.

  Even so, there was still something about her that I didn’t quite like. It was a coldness that radiated from her words, as if everything she said was just a means to an end. She seemed fake in a way. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

  Eventually, I went back home. Lauren was in the living room, watching TV.

  I took the remote and turned it off, knowing I had to have a legitimate conversation with her. I needed to know what was going to happen. “We need to talk.”

  She sat up and looked at me. “Alright.”

  “You’re a complete stranger to me, and I don’t know if I’m comfortable having you in my home. That being said, I cannot throw you onto the streets knowing that you are indeed carrying my child. So I’ll see what I can do to get you a hotel room. I’ll pay for it until you can get back on your feet.”

  She looked at me for a while, studying my face. “You work for VanGuard, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “In the IT department?”

  Again, I nodded.

  “Would it be fair to assume that you’ve already looked me up in their database and found out that everything I said was true? And that I have no prior history of crime? I’ve passed every single one of my background checks. Overall, you know I’m not a serial killer or some kind of a swindler, so I don’t quite understand why you’re so uncomfortable with me staying here. You have a nice guest bedroom. It would save you a lot of money – money that could go toward Gina’s college fund. Think about it. Do you really want to put me in a hotel?”

  Her tongue weaved the words into a tightly knitted web. I hated that she was manipulative. What I hated even more was that right now, she had a point.

  “Look, I didn’t let you into my home so you could talk to me like I’m a member of the jury you’re trying to sway.” My voice took on an edge I hadn’t expected. “I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here, and it would be wise of you to remember that.” Without another word, I walked out of the living room. A few seconds later, I felt guilty. I shouldn’t have snapped at her like that.

  I bit my lip and contemplated going back to apologize, but in the end, my pride got the best of me. I had said what I had said, and there was no taking it back.

  A little while later, I emerged from my bedroom, dressed for work. Lauren was still watching TV. It irked me. Shouldn’t she be looking for a job or something? I was starting to get the feeling that all she wanted to do was use me.

  Finding her a hotel would need to be my number one priority.

  6

  Lauren

  As soon as Franklin left with a briefcase in his hand, I got up and stretched my limbs. My joints groaned with the effort.

  I started to explore the house. It was nicely sized – not too big but not too small. Everything seemed to have its place, and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found. On the mantelpiece, I picked up a framed photograph. Franklin was holding his infant daughter in his arms. He seemed to be in the hospital – alone. Once again, I wondered where Gina’s mother was.

  The other pictures were similar, depicting a happy relationship between father and daughter. I smiled, wondering if my life as a single parent would be as successful as his. An inkling of fear crept under my skin. What if I wasn’t cut out for motherhood? What if I failed my child? What if I couldn’t do it on my own?

  Panic started to bubble inside of me before I quickly shook it off. No. I would make it through this – one way or another.

  Next, I ventured down the hall. I considered exploring the bedrooms, but that felt like an invasion of privacy. There was already enough tension between Franklin and me; I didn’t need to exacerbate the problem. He was, after all, doing me a big favor.

  In the end, I walked into the master bathroom. It was nicely decorated with porcelain floors and matching wall tiles. The predominant white color was offset by accents of gold found in the towels, light fixtures, and backsplash. As I studied it a little longer, I noticed that a few of the tiles were crooked. Other small flaws came into focus. It dawned on me that Franklin must have worked on this himself.

  I liked that.

  A man who was good with his hands.

  For a second, my mind toyed with the implications. Maybe he was good with his hands in other ways as well…

  I quickly shook my head. What was I thinking? I blamed the sudden fantasy on hormonal influx. Being pregnant affected my body in very strange ways.

  Thinking a bath would do me well, I turned on the water. There was a button beside the faucet that perked my interest. I pressed it.

  Suddenly, jets of water shot out from the sides of the tub. My eyes widened in surprise before I grinned wildly. Today must be my lucky day.

  I shrugged off my clothes, letting them pile around my feet. Once naked, I stepped into the tub, easing into the warm water. I grabbed a bottle of bath salts and poured them in. They fizzled, and soon enough, a sweet aroma filled the air. It wrapped around me, lulling me into a state of relaxation. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as the jets massaged my body.

  The feeling was heavenly.

  So much so that I nearly fell asleep. I could feel myself nodding off, so I sat up. The jets turned off automatically, leaving the water still and calm. Its surface became glass-like. Peering into it, I could see my reflection staring back at me.

  I didn’t like what I saw. I never did. My features were much too pinched. My hair lacked the luster I craved. I had no figure; I was skeletal. Even in pregnancy, my collarbone protruded in an almost grotesque way. I had tried for years to gain some weight and tone up, but nothing seemed to work. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw a woman with no hips to hold. No wonder I had been single for so long. What man wanted to date a boney thing like me?

  Quickly, I swiped my hand over my reflection, destroying it. No one knew about my insecurities. I knew how to appear confident and sure of myself. No one dared to question the fake smile on my face.

  I chuckled to myself. It was a gesture of self-pity really. A se
nse of dread and failure weighed down on my shoulders, threatening to pull me into the water and keep me there. So I got up, dried myself off with a towel, and redressed.

  At least I felt a little better.

  I started making a habit of these daily baths. Sometimes, I would take them in the morning; sometimes, late at night. Essentially, the bath became my safe haven. It was a place where I could think and breathe – a place where I didn’t have to worry about the future.

  One day, Franklin left the water bill on the kitchen table. I don’t know if he left it there purposefully so I would see it, but I nonetheless picked it up. The chart on the second page demonstrated that the last month had seen a significant rise in the amount of water used in the household. The bill had increased by about $50.

  A part of me felt bad for causing the added expense, but at the same time, I felt like I deserved those little moments of bliss.

  As I was looking over the chart, Franklin walked in. He didn’t say a word as he turned on the coffee machine.

  “Where’s Gina?” I asked.

  “She’s at a birthday party with some of her friends.” he answered, but it was clear that he didn’t want to talk. He started to move around the kitchen, picking up the various mugs, plates, and utensils I had failed to clean up throughout the day. He did so with an air of annoyance, practically throwing them into the sink. Finally, he turned to face me. “Would it be too much to ask that you try to keep things tidy? I’ve tried to hold my tongue in the past, but this place is starting to look like a pigsty.”

  “What are you talking about? I left a few plates on the table. What’s the big deal? I was going to wash them, but my feet were swollen this morning.”

  “What about all the clothes you’ve been leaving in the living room? Not to mention, the couch is littered with crumbs.”

  “It is not,” I protested.

  Franklin’s lips pressed into a thin line. It was clear that he was holding back.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, my arms crossed over my chest.

  “You’re just saying that. If you really meant it, you would’ve made an effort to better yourself. Instead, you just stay in the bath all day or watch TV. It’s driving me crazy. I get that you’re pregnant – you have a way of reminding me of that every single day – but enough is enough, Lauren. I’m sorry you came on hard times, but I can’t keep supporting you if you don’t at least try to get back on your feet.”

  “Oh, so you think I’m being a lazy bitch, do you?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “It is what you’re implying,” I countered, stepping forward.

  “No.”

  “Then tell me what you really think,” I pressed.

  We were locked in a death stare for a moment. I felt the tension rise between us. For a second, I thought he would lash out at me, but instead, he just snatched up his keys and stormed out of the house.

  7

  Franklin

  By the time my fury abated, I was already on route to my favorite coffee shop. The car almost seemed to have driven itself, guiding me toward the center of town. I eased my grip on the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

  Now, I’m not someone who is quick to anger. In fact, it usually takes quite a bit to set me off. But Lauren just had this way of getting under my skin. Every time I saw her sitting in front of the TV, I wanted to scream. When I was down and out, I’d been forced to fend for myself. There had been no one to support me.

  To my surprise, when I reached the coffee shop, there was a space waiting for me just outside the door. I eyed it with zeal as I crept forward through the traffic.

  But just before I could reach it, the car in front of me turned on its blinker. I watched in dismay as they did a horrible job of parallel parking.

  Just my luck. Ever since I could remember, I’ve been plagued by bad luck. Maybe I was born on the same day my mother broke a dozen mirrors or something. I wasn’t sure, but I knew that life always had a way of giving me the finger.

  I sighed and drove past the elderly couple emerging from the car. Maybe it was for the best.

  With no other option, I rounded the block, but the town was congested and packed with people. It was a Friday evening, after all. Most people would be getting out of work and enjoying drinks with their friends. My only friend was still on his honeymoon.

  God, when did I become such a loner?

  Finally, I squeezed into a tight space on a rough-looking road. I pushed in the mirror, despite the fact that it would probably be broken by the time I got back, regardless of whether I took this precaution or not. With my hands in my pockets, I started for the coffee shop.

  All around me, people looked happy and carefree. Couples held hands as they laughed at each other’s jokes. Men walked with a pep in their step. Women swayed their hips. I seemed to be the only one with a dark storm cloud hanging overhead.

  When I walked into the coffee shop, my spirits lifted. The familiar smell of coffee beans was one I welcomed. Their fall specials filled the air with spices that made breathing crisp and satisfying. As always, I walked up to the counter without looking at the menu. I never deviated from my regular order.

  “May I help you?” a young barista asked. She was new. Her nametag still held a certain level of shininess to it, whereas others had faded and worn away.

  “Yeah, I’ll get a Red Eye and an apple turnover.”

  She looked at her tablet, scanning through the options. “Um…” she mumbled to herself.

  Before she could worry herself into a fit, my favorite barista, Alexis, came to the rescue. She was a tiny girl who always had an abundance of energy, even though I had never seen her drink a sip of coffee. She wasn’t wearing her usual uniform but instead sported some tight-fitting jeans and a graphic tee I didn’t quite understand. Still, the bright colors were rather appealing, and they matched her personality quite nicely.

  “Mr. Farmer.” She nodded in recognition. “A Red Eye is just our regular coffee with a shot of espresso. So just punch in a regular coffee and then add the espresso as an extra.”

  The new girl nodded in understanding. “That’ll be $6.57.”

  As I fished out my wallet, Alexis was already making my drink, even though it was obvious that she wasn’t on the clock. By the time I got my change back, she placed it on the counter with a satisfied smirk on her face. A second later, she thrust my apple turnover into my hand.

  “Thanks.” I was about to leave when I turned toward her. “Do you mind having some coffee with me?”

  Alexis smiled. “Sure.”

  We snagged a table toward the back where it was quieter. Alexis had made herself a decaf chai latte, which she cradled in her hands like it was her most prized possession.

  “I don’t know how you manage to be so energetic when you don’t drink caffeine,” I remarked. “I personally feel like a zombie until I’ve had my morning cup.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve never really felt a need for it.”

  “I envy you.”

  She chuckled. “So what’s the matter?” she asked, picking up that something was wrong.

  I thought about telling her, but I hesitated. I felt weird admitting that there was a pregnant woman living in my home. I felt even weirder admitting that the child was mine – a product of a desperate decision ten years ago. I had yet to completely accept that my actions were coming back to haunt me. I was trying to take a distanced approach, but deep down, I knew that once the baby was born, I wouldn’t be able to let go. My paternal instincts would kick in, just like they had with Gina. But how was I supposed to raise a child when I couldn’t stand its mother?

  Alexis patiently waited for me to answer.

  “Nothing. I think I just needed someone to talk to.”

  “Just lonely, huh? I hope this isn’t your attempt to flirt with me because I’m sorry to say this, but I have a girlfriend.”

  “Oh.” The word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  “Su
rprised?”

  “A bit.”

  She shrugged. “Looks can be deceiving. That’s why I never judge someone before I truly get to know who they are.”

  Her words sat heavy in my mind.

  She was right.

  From that point forward, it was easier to talk to her. It was like her piece of advice had lifted a weight from my shoulders.

  By the time I left the café, I felt better about my situation and actually headed home with a sense of hopefulness. Maybe if I just sat down with Lauren and had a genuine conversation with her, I could learn more about her.

  With this thought in mind, I jumped into my car, glad to find that the mirror was still intact. Perhaps I wasn’t all bad luck after all.

  But I’d spoken too soon.

  My phone rang in my pocket. I grabbed it to see Cruz’s name on the screen. That was weird. He’d said he didn’t want anyone to disturb him while he was on his honeymoon.

  “Hello?”

  “Dean Moss has been released from jail.”

  8

  Lauren

  It was getting late. My stomach growled in protest. So I got up and headed for the kitchen. There, I opened the fridge, looking for something to nibble on.

  The fridge, however, was practically empty. The only things left were unfinished boxes of takeout, a few eggs, a near-empty carton of milk, and pudding cups. I grabbed one of the pudding cups and tore off the lid, licking it clean before I tossed it in the bin.

  I opened one of the drawers, looking for a clean spoon, but most of them were in the sink, waiting to be washed. Seeing the build-up of dishes, I was suddenly plagued with guilt. Franklin’s accusations echoed in my mind. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was turning into a freeloader. Wanting to prove that was not the case, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

  Soon, my feet fell asleep and my back ached, but I kept at it. By the time I was done, beads of sweat were rolling down my forehead. I grabbed a nearby dishrag and wiped my brow, feeling satisfied with myself. I’d like to see Franklin complain now.