by KaLyn Cooper
“Let me fill you in on what has happened since those reports were compiled.” Alex’s tone was direct and to the point.
Isaac wondered if the parents of the pampered princess were best friends with the owner of the company.
Deciding he needed to see the information sooner rather than later, Isaac headed toward the hotel.
“What do you know about Hannah Kader?” Alex asked.
“Absolutely nothing, except I’m here to protect her,” Isaac admitted. Then, to reassure his boss, he added, “But I will know everything in that file as soon as I get back to my room. Should her name ring a bell?”
Alex paused for a long minute before he answered. “No, but for some reason ISIS wants her dead.”
Chapter 2
Hannah Kader knew he was headed her way a full minute before the tall man with the scraggly brown mustache and beard started up the sidewalk. Standing back several feet from the window, hiding in the shadows of the house, she focused the long camera lens. His skin tone was wrong to be Middle Eastern, but it wouldn’t be the first time ISIS had recruited an all-American looking young man.
Click. Click.
She sharpened the edges of his face, wishing she could see his eyes behind the reflective glasses.
Click. Click.
His swagger was confident, almost cocky as he strode the fifteen feet to the steps. He certainly wasn’t trying to be stealthy in that bright yellow jacket. Although the reflective striping required for serious backcountry exploration was designed into the outer jacket, the coat had not been purchased off the rack at a local boutique. It was too high tech.
She scanned his body for weapons. So much could be hidden under the large parka, including multiple handguns, knives, and even a submachine gun.
He constantly rotated his head side to side. She was sure he’d mentally logged every vehicle on the street and could accurately describe the couple and their two children next door.
She could.
Hannah moved to observe him on the porch. She took another few pictures as he stomped the snow off his boots. She touched the button to send her shots directly to her computer then slid the camera into a duffel bag on the dining table. She withdrew her Sig Sauer .45 caliber and stepped quietly across the thick-padded living room carpet onto the tile at the front door. She was already looking through the peephole when he rang the bell.
“Who are you, and what you want?” Her voice was rough from lack of use the past two weeks. She had limited her calls to her parents, primarily texting once a day using a cell phone she had picked up at a gas station when she had flown into Bozeman.
“Ma’am, I’m Isaac Snow from Guardian Security’s Atlanta Center.” He slipped off his glove and reached into his pocket.
She immediately brought the gun up. She was pretty sure he couldn’t fire a bullet through the solid core front door, but a single shot would shatter the glass in the windows three feet away. He could be inside in seconds.
Instead, he held a standard business card up to the peephole.
She liked that even less because she couldn’t see what he was doing. Stepping to the side, Hannah flipped the deadbolt and opened the door a crack. The chain lock hung loosely at chin level.
“I’m here to meet Hannah Kader.” The man slid the business card toward her.
She snatched the small paper from his fingers and slammed the door shut. The black and gold business card had the words Guardian Security, Inc. underneath the name Isaac Snow. There was no title distinguishing him as a manager, owner, or peon. Nothing. In the lower right corner were an Atlanta address and a phone number.
Hannah peered through the peephole to watch the man turn his back to the door and take a selfie.
What. The. Hell?
Sure, his rugged good looks were accentuated in that orange parka, but was the man that vain and so bored he decided to use her silence for selfies? And why the hell would he photograph himself on her porch?
He lowered his phone, his thumbs flying over the screen as he turned back around.
Damn. He was sending the pictures to someone.
Hannah quickly debated between calling 911 or the phone number on the card.
Was he texting pictures of her parents’ home in Big Sky to a local ISIS cell, pointing out where she was? She glanced through the living room windows to the street looking to see if reinforcements were on their way to kidnap her. Or to kill her.
At no sign of traffic, Hannah wanted to kick her own butt. ISIS didn’t knock on the door and introduce themselves.
With a sigh, she reconsidered his actions. Maybe he was sending a picture to his girlfriend to prove that he was at work.
She compared the phone number on the card with the one her father had given her to call in case of an emergency. It was the same. With a sigh of relief, she dialed.
“Guardian Security, Atlanta Center. Is this an emergency?”
The unexpected question gave her pause. No. A strange man at her front door was not an emergency as far she could tell. He might even be the one she’d expected, but Hannah had learned in a mud block hovel in Syria that you don’t even trust those who you consider friends.
“Hello. Not exactly an emergency, but I need to confirm that one of your agents…employees…whatever you call them…is in fact the man standing at my door.” That didn’t come out as smooth as Hannah had hoped. She was obviously more shaken up than she’d admit to herself.
She peered through the peephole at the man on the porch. He stood back so she could see him head to toe, his gloved hands clasped in front of him, feet spread shoulder width apart. His head turned side to side then he stared at the door as though he could see through it.
She quickly took a step back.
The sound of tapping of computer keys over the phone line had stopped. “Ma’am, I see you are at—”
When the man in Atlanta spoke her address, fear shot through Hannah. They knew exactly where she was. Her eyes immediately darted to the back door. It took thirty-five seconds to reach the vehicle she had parked a block away. Everything she needed was in the duffel bag that lay unzipped on the dining table.
“Is this Hannah Kader?”
She jerked at the sound of her name.
“Ms. Kader. Are you still there?”
She looked at the phone in her hand as though it was about to bite her.
“Ms. Kader. Hannah Kader. Please respond or I will call the local police and direct them to your home.”
No. Sirens and flashing blue lights would be a beacon for anyone searching for her, not to mention the call over open airwaves.
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, wrestling her fears under control. “I’m here. Thank you, but police are unnecessary.” At least she hoped. “Is the man outside my door one of yours?”
Her phone dinged indicating a text.
“I have just sent you a picture of Isaac Snow, your personal protection arranged for by your parents. Please check your text.” Efficient and calm would be the words Hannah would use to describe the man on the other end of the line.
Glancing down at the picture, Hannah smiled then lifted her gaze to the man standing on the porch. It was the selfie he had taken less than a minute ago.
Damn, these guys were good. She suddenly felt better about the entire situation.
Lifting the phone back to her ear, Hannah replied, “Yes, it’s him. Thank you so much.” She ended the call and slid the phone into her back pocket.
After releasing the chain, Hannah opened the door. “Mr. Snow, won’t you come in, please.”
As he stepped inside, he removed the knit cap and ran long fingers through nearly black hair, removing any remnants of hat head. Then he took off the reflective sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his sweater. When his gaze met hers, Hannah took a step back. Those deep brown eyes were decades older than the face of the man who stood only three feet away.
“Hannah Kader, I presume?” There was a hint of annoyance in
his voice. His gaze scanned her body and stopped on the gun in her hand which she held next to her thigh.
“Yes.” She waggled the business card. “Isaac Snow, I’d like to see some identification, please.”
With his gaze still pinned on the gun, he slid off one glove and reached into his back pocket. Producing a wallet, he flipped it open to his corporate identification. Maintaining her distance, she scrutinized the picture glancing between the man and the photograph several times. ID pictures never did anyone justice. He was much more handsome in real life. Or maybe it was just the testosterone-enriched aura he exuded.
“Thank you.” Hannah shifted her weight, putting even more space between the two of them. “I’ve never had a bodyguard before.” She’d never needed one. She knew how to kick ass and take names.
A year of training by some of the fiercest fighters in the world, the Kurdish Peshmerga, had taught Hannah how to protect herself. Fighting in the all-female YPJ Battalion of the Syrian People’s Protection Unit the following year had shown her how to protect those weaker than her in ISIS-claimed areas of Syria and Iraq.
Hannah wondered how much Isaac Snow knew about her. “So, where do we start?”
“You can start by handing me that gun.” His gaze glanced down then right back to meet hers.
There was no way in hell she was going to let go of her Sig. It had saved her life multiple times. “Not happening, big boy.”
The right side of his lips twitched. “I take it you know how to use that P220?”
She grinned. “It’s a P320, and yes. Would you like me to give you a skills demonstration, or perhaps you need a handgun lesson?” During her time in the Middle East, Hannah had taught hundreds of young women how to use pistols, rifles, submachine guns, and even rocket launchers. But the look in his eyes told her he could pick up any weapon and use it efficiently.
Isaac slid out of his boots. “Just don’t point it toward me. You’ll find one looking right back at you. I’d appreciate it if you’d put that thing away. I’m here to protect you. Not kill you.”
Hannah slid the gun into the holster at the small of her back. “Satisfied?”
Without acknowledgment, he announced, “We need to secure the house and then we’ll talk.” He started with the window next to the front door, checking locks and the area he could see outside. He then lowered the blackout shades, encasing them in near darkness.
She started turning on lamps. Hannah had preferred to sit in the shadows and be able to see out, but Isaac’s concern was obviously the opposite. He didn’t want anyone to be able to see in.
From the middle of the living room, Hannah watched Isaac prowl through the house like a cat on silent feet as he checked out every room, every window, and every door. She followed him upstairs and to the basement. He wouldn’t find anything because she had done her own sweep less than an hour ago. Finished, he went directly to the coat rack in the foyer.
As he shucked off the parka, all Hannah could do was stare. Muscles rippled under the dark green sweater that highlighted the jade ring around his brown, nearly black irises. The man was built. She’d worked for years in the desert with soldiers who were in excellent shape, but most were on the thin side and looked like long distance runners. Isaac had broad, well-defined shoulders and the thick thighs of a swimmer.
She couldn’t help herself, she had to know, “Are you a SEAL?” She saw the ever so brief hesitation in his movement as he hung his coat.
“I work for Guardian Security.” He turned toward her. “But I was a SEAL. That shouldn’t make a difference. I’m here to protect you, and I’m completely able to keep you safe.”
Hannah certainly hoped so. According to her brother, the bounty for her—dead or alive—was now up to $500,000 U.S. Aziz’s family certainly wanted revenge.
Chapter 3
Hannah Kader was not what Isaac had expected, especially after Alex Wolf told him ISIS was after her. Even though Guardian Security often worked directly for the United States Special Operations Command, none of his boss’s high-ranking contacts could tell him why the terrorists wanted her dead.
To Isaac, Hannah seemed more like the girl next door than a threat to the Middle Eastern extremist regime.
Slightly wavy, dark brown hair draped just beyond her shoulders, but it was the huge Bambi eyes and full lips that held Isaac’s attention. She reminded him of Angelina Jolie. Their build was even similar. He held back a smile as he thought of Hannah dressed like the Lara Croft movie character in a tight-fitting skin suit with weapons strapped to her thighs and across her back.
His cock twitched at the picture he painted in his mind. Hell of a time for his libido to decide to reawaken. He’d gone nearly a year without a real hard on. Coming home from a tough mission to find his fiancée dead on the bathroom floor was a real cock blocker.
Before the constant regret could overtake his every thought, Isaac returned his attention to the woman in front of him. He mentally measured her for skis and the gear they would need tomorrow morning. She was about five-feet seven-inches, maybe a 130 pounds. Damn, though, she looked fit.
“You seem to be in pretty good shape,” Isaac commented.
“I have to be for my job.” She shifted her weight. “Can we sit down like civilized adults?” She walked into the living room and sat on one end of the couch then popped back up. “I’m sorry, I truly do have manners. Would you like something to drink?”
Without waiting for his answer, her long, shapely legs took her to the refrigerator. The yoga pants she wore showed off strong thighs and calves, not to mention one of the nicest asses Isaac had ever seen.
“I have sports drinks, flavored water, beer, several kinds of juice, and milk.” She looked over her shoulder expectantly.
He was on duty so beer was out of the question. “Gatorade would be great.” As an afterthought he added the word, “Please.”
With the flavored water in one hand, she stuck out her arm, practically shoving the sport drink into his abdomen on her way back to the couch. “Come and sit. I can’t stand you looming over me.”
Isaac sat in a chair several feet away from Hannah. Unscrewing the cap, he took in the beautiful house. The exposed timbers were very typical of Big Sky homes, as was a huge stone fireplace. Windows filled the side facing Lone Mountain from floor to the ceiling peak twenty-five feet above. He had closed the drapes covering the three sets of sliding glass doors that opened to a deck that ran the width of the house.
“Nice place,” Isaac noted. “I take it this is a winter getaway place for your parents?” He took a long pull on his drink.
“We’ve often spent holidays here, even Fourth of July.” Defensively, she added, “My parents have very high-pressure jobs. They come here to get away from the big city atmosphere and relax.”
“What do they do?” Isaac hoped the question would keep her talking. They needed to develop a familiarity since they were going to be stuck together for at least a week, longer if Homeland Security couldn’t pin down the ISIS cell soon.
“My father works for the Center for Disease Control and my mother is an emergency room physician at Emory Hospital.” She lifted her chin as though to say, See, their work is very stressful.
Isaac was tempted to counter by telling her, My father is a rancher and my stepmother is his trophy wife who doesn’t know how to do anything except spend his hard-earned money. And damn, Isaac knew exactly how hard it was to earn money raising cattle and the physical labor required.
Instead, he asked, “Do you know how to ski?”
She cocked her head and raised one eyebrow. “I learned to ski when I was three. I’m a long way from competition level, but Stillwater Bowl is one of my favorite runs. In case you don’t know—”
“I’m familiar with every trail at this resort,” Isaac said, cutting her off.
“You’re a local?” Hannah asked, bottle of water halfway to her luscious lips.
“No.” He didn’t want her forming an opinion based on
where he grew up. He may have spent the first eighteen years of his life in and around these mountains, but the last eight years in the Navy, six of those as a SEAL, had made him the man he was now. “I already told you, I live in Atlanta.”
Changing the subject, Isaac asked, “Have you ever done any backcountry skiing?”
Hannah’s whole face lit up and it was as though a beam of sunlight had cut through the darkness of the enclosed house. “It’s one of my favorite things to do here at Big Sky. Are we going Alpine touring?”
“It’s a possibility.” Isaac had planned for several scenarios. One of his backup plans was to take Hannah to his Uncle Samuel’s remote cabin. Plan A, though, was to hang out in this house, test her skiing skills in case they had to move to Plan B, and wait for Homeland Security to do their job. The house was as secure as any Atlanta antebellum mansion. Guardian Security had eyes and ears inside and out, constantly monitored by men he knew well.
“Can we go tomorrow morning?” Excitement exuded from her. “I love skiing on virgin snow. The resort has a helicopter that can drop us off on top of the mountain and they have a car service to pick us up when we’re finished.”
Isaac’s experience with helicopter drops onto snow were quite different. His SEAL team had trained in Alaska for nearly six weeks. They had fast roped out of choppers and were forced to make their way back to base camp carrying over one hundred pounds of gear on their backs. Several times the trip took days, always in below freezing weather. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, even for a man raised in the Montana mountains.
“They also have a guide service.” Hannah smiled broadly. “We should ask for Samuel. He’s this big old bear of a man—salt and pepper beard halfway down his chest, his face looks like tanned leather, and he has the best stories about the Indians that once roamed this area. Screw up, and he won’t hesitate to yell at you, but underneath he’s a teddy bear.”