Target: A Military Romance (Unwanted Soldiers Book 1)

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Target: A Military Romance (Unwanted Soldiers Book 1) Page 3

by Aden Lowe


  Finally, he pulled to the curb. "Here we are, Miss Johnson." He held the door for me as I got out. I thanked him and made my way to the patio, as another bodyguard trailed behind me at a discreet distance. All the security made me uncomfortable, but Jared insisted I wasn't safe on my own any longer.

  He rose from the table when my heels clicked on the patio tiles. His gaze flicked over my appearance, and his mouth thinned with distaste, preparing me for what was to come. "Darling, really, I wish you could remember, black is not your color." He held my chair while I sat, then returned to his own. "Tabitha says you should stick to pastels and earth tones. They're more suitable for your pale coloring."

  The housekeeper appeared with fresh coffee and a careful smile of greeting in my direction. I tried to return her smile without him noticing, since he didn't like familiarity with household staff, but he probably noticed. Being polite to everyone was one part of my small-town upbringing I had trouble letting go of. "How are you this morning, Jared?"

  Jared took a careful sip of his coffee. Appearances meant everything to him, especially now. A coffee stain on his collar or tie would mean having to change, since he had to be camera-ready at a moment's notice. "Is there a reason you ignored my observations?" The faint bite to his tone warned I should tread carefully.

  "I'm sorry, Jared. I really thought the black accents were okay with the beige." My stomach churned. Meeting my unofficial fiancé for breakfast every morning had turned into an unpleasant experience lately. He always spent the entire half hour critiquing my clothing, my hair, my makeup, and more recently, my weight. He never used to be so serious. No doubt, the stress caused that, as well.

  "I'll have Tabitha send someone over to help with your wardrobe. It needs a complete overhaul anyway. The primaries are well under way. I need you on the campaign trail now, too. The conservatives have trouble voting for a single man. All you have to do is smile and nod, and look nice on my arm. Surely even you can't mess that up." He took a handwritten list from his inside pocket, and glanced over it. "We have the fundraiser in Texas next week. Make sure you wear green." He added something to his list. "I'll have Tabitha send over something appropriate for the event."

  "Of course, dear." If I let his remarks go without acknowledgement any further, with anger already darkening his features, things would become even more unpleasant. I quickly learned to simply agree at times like this.

  Some days, especially ones when he seemed on edge and ready to go off at no provocation, part of me wished I could go back to running my quiet little gallery, out of the limelight, but especially, out of Jared's notice. Of course, it was too late for that now.

  He glowered at me, as if he realized my acceptance of the criticism came from an ulterior motive. He hated for me to simply appease him to take the easy way out, but this time, he let it go. "And what are your plans for today?"

  I kept my hands relaxed, careful to give no hint of nerves or excitement. "I'm meeting with Congressman Tulley's wife to discuss the displays for her charity luncheon. I expect it will take until late afternoon. Then I plan on going back to my apartment for a quiet evening with a good book." In a way, it was charming, the way he wanted to know my plans every day. But then, it could become nerve-wracking later, if I accidentally neglected to give him some detail, and someone on his staff told him instead.

  His lips narrowed to a thin line. "I don't like you associating with Tulley's wife. She's always going on about whichever cause has her attention at the moment."

  Lois Tulley had quickly become my friend, and ever since he realized, Jared disapproved of my spending time with her. Her companionship was one of the quiet little rebellions I sometimes allowed myself. Luckily for me, Congressman Tulley had powerful friends, so the consequences of going against Jared's wishes were less severe than they might have been otherwise.

  "I know, dear. This luncheon is a good opportunity, though. The Speaker's wife, and several Cabinet members' wives, will be in attendance. You said you wanted me to find ways to make good impressions for you." Helping to plan this event, like all my activities, had been chosen specifically because my taking part brought favorable attention to Jared.

  Jared gave his trademark long-suffering sigh, the one that always preceded a lecture. "Darling, yes, I want you to make good impressions on them, but not in such a casual, mundane way. Those functions are meaningless."

  My temper started to rise, despite my efforts to control it. "Actually, among the spouses, these events are extremely important, and they make a difference within the community. Even the First Lady is often involved, or at least in attendance."

  His nostrils flared, and I realized I'd gone too far. "Nevertheless, this will be your last charity function. You will find a different way to become relevant." He stood to go.

  The chair scraped the floor in my rush to stand and accept his goodbye peck, and his fingers dug hard into my shoulder. "Have a good day, dear." I grated the words between clenched teeth, struggling to conceal the pain and fear.

  "Thank you, darling. Please endeavor not to embarrass me too badly during your outing today." His dry kiss to my cheek felt more like an insult than an expression of affection. The tension in his shoulders as he stalked away served as fair warning for anyone unlucky enough to cross his path.

  I hoped to God something put him in a better mood before long. My quiet evening with a good book had most likely been doomed from the beginning, anyway, but now, I could be absolutely certain. Nothing peaceful or nice ever happened around Jared in that kind of mood.

  For the millionth time, I wondered if I should just break things off with him for good, despite having to endure the shame such a move would bring. Several times I intended to, but he came to me, all contrite and apologetic, and I couldn't stay angry with him. Especially not when he said he needed me. Deep down, I knew it was true, and that he loved me.

  Nothing in my life prepared me for being with a man like him. Growing up in a small town, with only small town problems, hadn't prepared me for much of anything, but I learned that too late, after I came to DC. I might have managed to carve out a comfy little niche for myself in the art community, but that meant nothing in the real world.

  The moment he walked into my gallery, all the air left the room as his energy and drive overwhelmed everything in his presence. He pursued me with such fervor, it was a miracle I resisted as long as I did. I made him wait a month before I finally accepted an invitation to dinner. He swept me off my feet that evening, and I never looked back.

  Maybe I should have taken more time, gotten to know him better. I might have spotted some hint of his tendency toward anger, but instead, I just jumped in and enjoyed being spoiled by an attentive man. And even now, despite the occasional bruises, I still liked the attention, and being taken care of.

  I took a last glance around the patio dining area outside Jared's apartment, making sure everything was in place before I left. He rarely came to my place anymore, saying it was too small, and not in the best part of town. At the moment, though, the vibrant warmth and acceptance of my little neighborhood appealed to me far more than the austere surroundings he preferred.

  The bodyguard met me at the patio gate and escorted me to the car. I really regretted that I could no longer drive myself. Too much of a security risk, Jared always said. Now that people knew we were involved, I became a vulnerability to him, and I supposed he was right. But driving gave me such a feeling of independence, even when I lost my way and had to stop for directions. I didn't like giving that up, but if it made Jared feel better, I could be okay with it.

  "Where to, Miss Johnson?"

  I felt a rush of shame at not knowing the man's name, but Jared's rule about no undue familiarity with the staff prevented it. And I guessed it made a sort of sense. If I saw someone as a friend, even a little, I doubted I could demand what he considered good job performance from them. Those small-town habits could easily prove disastrous if I couldn't put them behind me.

  S
o, I swallowed the impulse to be even a little friendly. "I'm meeting Mrs. Tulley." I gave him the address.

  He nodded and pulled into traffic. "Have there been threats against you, or the Senator, that you're aware of, Miss Johnson?"

  Alarm sent my pulse racing. "Not that I know of. Why?" I stared at his inscrutable features in the rearview, trying to gauge how frightened I should be.

  "The Senator ordered you a separate detail, and his own doubled. We thought something might have happened, is all." He glanced at me in the mirror.

  I shook my head. "No, he hasn't said anything."

  "Must just be taking precautions, then. I don't blame him, with the election heating up."

  I agreed, and let my thoughts consume me. What reason could he have to increase my security? Surely he would have told me if there had been a threat. Perhaps the bodyguard was right, and he was simply taking precautions. Lately, the campaign rhetoric had become increasingly dirty. Given the climate some of the candidates created on the campaign trail, it couldn't hurt anything.

  The car pulled up to the Tulleys' home, and Lois met me at the door herself. As soon I was inside, she pulled me into a warm embrace. "Lauren, I'm so glad to see you. We have so much to catch up on!" She called for refreshments in the garden, and led me out to sit among her prized roses.

  I listened, a little absently, as she chattered on about DC gossip, and plans for the next charity event, and her husband's fundraising events. All of a sudden, I found this existence terribly boring.

  Chapter Four

  In the end, I talked with Rufus and decided on a two-pronged strategy. Usually, when I took a mission, having one way in and out was an extreme luxury. I made plans on the fly and shot my way through obstacles. The change, along with the difference in the type of job, could easily spell disaster for me.

  Once again, I questioned the impulse to take the mission. Normally, if someone approached me with a job outside my skill set, I would just refer them to someone within my network who could take care of it. So what the hell was it about this particular job that made me not only consider it, but actually agree to do it?

  Realizing I was out of my depth this time, I slowed things down long enough to learn everything possible about the personal security business. Then I put my plans in motion. First, Flag and I stashed Crazy Terry-T as leverage, while Rufus sent X-Man to dig around with the Senator's fixer.

  X-Man was new to our little organization, and I'd never worked with him, so I elected to keep my distance for the moment and let Rufus relay everything. If he performed well for this mission, then if it ever came up in the future, I would feel a little more secure in working with him. And it also freed me up for my other approach.

  The initial plan to use Tabitha Wilkins' brother to strong-arm her into giving me information fit the way I usually worked. The most direct route to a suitable ending usually had the best chances for success. This time, though, I had to keep in mind the type of resources the tango could bring to the game. In a contest of sheer strength, I might not come out on top. It wasn't every day I went up against someone who could set federal law on my tail. So, I decided on a less confrontational approach to start with. If that failed, I could go with the other plan.

  It took less than an hour to drop off one of the surveillance photos of Lauren. The laxness of the security around the Senator's apartment shocked me. Sure, I waited until the middle of the business day, while he was busily fleecing taxpayers, but any security firm worth the name should know a person felt most secure at home, and therefore, was actually more vulnerable there.

  They probably figured the conspicuous video surveillance around the building did their job for them. Apparently, they'd never heard of a criminal dressed as a delivery man just dropping off a package. Hell, even that disguise worked in my favor. Baseball cap, wrap-around shades, nondescript uniform. My own fucking mother wouldn't have recognized me.

  I didn't even bother averting my face from the cameras as I approached the building. Doing so would draw the attention of anyone looking at the footage for suspicious activity. I probably wouldn't encounter whoever watched the footage, and even if I did, they were unlikely to connect me with it.

  Inside the lobby, I left my little package with the guard after making him sign for it. The residents of the place probably felt much safer with the man sitting behind a desk in the lobby. He provided a visible barrier between them and the outside world. They probably didn't even realize he wasn't armed with anything more threatening than pepper spray. His most valuable service to the residents likely lay in exactly what I asked him to do—hold a package and ensure it went into the hands of the intended recipient.

  The moment Richardson saw that photograph, he would know someone had been watching Miss Johnson. If he reacted like most people, he would feel like he needed guards on her. I had to assume he would use the same people who handled security for his building, and provided bodyguards for his rallies. All that came through McKinley Security Agency. I intended to be their newest employee by close of business, and then find a way to get myself on Lauren Johnson's detail.

  I left a great deal up to chance, but without more time to orchestrate things, I would have to improvise and make it work. That was my comfort zone, anyway, and the pressure would keep me sharp and on my toes.

  From my observations, it seemed Lauren was in more danger from Richardson when they went out of town. At least, she stayed in a suite on her own, giving Miss Johnson her own space to retreat to. The incident that put her arm in a sling occurred during a short campaign trip to Iowa.

  At the moment, they were both in town while Richardson attended meetings on Capitol Hill. In only a few days, he would head back out, and presumably, so would Miss Johnson. The short break for him to take care of some of his real duties as Senator gave me a small window of opportunity to insinuate myself into the scene. I had to work fast and take advantage of the chance.

  Several blocks away from Richardson's building, I parked my rented van in an alley long enough to remove the vinyl sticker with the courier company logo, and put the real plates back on. The simple ruse ensured my presence went virtually unnoticed at Richardson's place. Most people's eyes passed right over delivery vans and trucks, like fixtures in the scenery.

  The sticker, stolen plates, and thrift store uniform, all went into a garbage bag to be taken care of later. With the van wiped down thoroughly as a precaution, I returned it a few minutes later, and picked up the car I left parked at a strip mall nearby. It seemed like a convoluted process, but at least it reduced the chances of anyone connecting me to that photograph once it hit the Senator's greasy mitts.

  A few stops later, with all the evidence safely disposed of, I walked into the offices of the McKinley Security Agency. The clean, modern office gave a good impression. If I were a regular citizen in the market for a security firm, it was the sort of place I might look for. Being who I was, I knew surface appearances meant absolutely fucking nothing.

  The blonde bombshell behind the counter looked me up and down while she finished her phone call, then hung up with a wide smile. "What can I do for you?"

  I leaned against her counter and smiled. I could think of several things she could do, starting with that red, pouty mouth of hers. "My name is Mike Ross. I’m new in town, and looking for work. Thought I'd stop in and see if ya'll were hiring." My best Southern drawl sucked, but I figured it was close enough for government work, as the saying went. I needed to charm my way into a job interview, at least.

  Apparently, it worked, since she smiled up at me and batted her lashes. "Oh, I'm sure I can find you work. Do you happen to have security experience?"

  "I sure do." I gave her a detailed work history in the field, one already backed up digitally by Rufus and his database genius. My résumé included personal security for a number of celebrities, some fairly high profile, and the same job for a known mob boss.

  The blonde's eyes widened slightly as she looked over the list. "You h
ave a clean criminal background?"

  "Yep. Never even been stopped by a traffic cop, except for speeding a couple years ago. Prayed like hell the cop didn't look too closely at my client, because the devil himself only knows what all she was on that night." Good security looked the other way when the client indulged a bit too much, and still protected them. I knew guys in the business who told stories of covering up assaults, rapes, heavy substance abuse, all as part of the service.

  She made a note. "Who was the client?"

  I grinned. "Now, see, if I was that stupid, I'd never work in the business again, let alone keep getting bigger clients. Only the firm knows who I cover when."

  Another note. "Okay, Mr. Ross, I actually think we have something suitable right away. Why don't you go get yourself some lunch, and come back in an hour? I'll have an answer for you then."

  With no choice, I left to cool my heels for an hour. Outside on the street, I paused for a moment to look around, cataloging my surroundings. Fully aware the blonde could have me followed, I walked around the corner to a small deli and followed her suggestion about lunch. If I were hiring someone for a job like that, the first test would be whether they could spot and evade a tail. By the time the clerk handed my pastrami on rye across the counter, I had the tail in my sights, and snapped a quick shot with my phone.

  The deli clerk's directions led me to a small park just a block over, and I planted my ass on a bench to eat my sandwich and watch my tail. Right on schedule, the fake bureaucrat showed up, strolling by too casually. I got another snapshot, tossed the sandwich wrapper in a trash barrel, and started walking. Twice more in the next half hour, the same joker showed up. Satisfied, I headed back to the office, ready to hear the verdict.

  The blonde looked up with an apologetic smile. "I’m sorry, Mr. Ross. The owner has decided not to fill any positions at this time."

 

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