Storm - Dominant Protectors Book Two

by Jack Ellison

  “Deal?” he barked, bringing me out of my daydream.

  This is it, then. Time to concede defeat on favourable terms.

  “Ok Daddy. If it really means that much to you I’ll let you hire someone to look after me. As long as they don’t get in the way, cramp my style or cockblock me.” My dad winced. Poor choice of words, maybe. “Well, you know what I mean. I am 22 now you know.”

  “I know. Anyway, here’s what I can tell you.”

  He leant forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “You know I manage software development of one part of the company, right? The position I was given when I returned to work, after your mom... well after she passed away. Let’s just say that I manage the development of software that either helps kill people, or helps to stop people from being killed. And not just for companies - armed forces and governments too. And there’s lots of nasty bastards out there who would do anything to get their hands on it.”

  He leant back in his chair, his gaze distant for a second. He rarely spoke about Mom. She had died after a brave but short battle with an aggressive form of cancer when I was three. My Dad had later told me that he had sold the majority of his company at the time of her diagnosis so he could be there to support her and to look after me. I could tell that he still wasn't over her death and would probably never be. And his loss made him even more protective of me, which was touching but could be very smothering at times.

  “Anyway,” he continued after a brief pause, “I’ve already told you more than I’ve ever told anyone outside of work about what I do. But hopefully you understand that I’m not just being an overprotective old bastard. I want you to have fun and do your own thing, but I want someone there...just in case, y’know?”

  “I know,” I said, as sympathetically as I could manage, even as the excitement started to build up. After almost two years of planning and replanning, chatting about the details with friends and a week of arguing with my Dad, I was finally going to go travelling! And with my Dad covering my expenses, travel and hotel, it was going to be travelling in sublime style and luxury. None of that slumming it with the dirty backpackers, getting fleas or crabs or whatever you’d get living in a hostel, sleeping with the other unwashed travellers. No, for me it would be First or Business Class, the best Hotels and nicest of restaurants...and clean, wealthy handsome...and hopefully well-endowed...men.

  Hey, a girl can dream, right?

  Chapter Two

  Axel

  I looked up from my whiskey glass, my cold blue eyes fixing the older businessman sitting opposite me with an intent stare.

  “How much?” I said softly, in a deep monotone.

  “You heard me. Listen, I’ve had a look at your previous work and spoken to your...references. I know this isn’t the type of contract you usually take. And I may be being damned paranoid, but I can’t shake the feeling that the risk is greater than you or anyone else suspects.”

  “Right. So this isn’t simple babysitting, knocking some sense into some over friendly jocks. I know, Andrew.”

  As I spoke, I saw my potential future employer visibly flinch.

  “How the fuck?” The older, and now very worried, man leant forward, his hand reaching for the panic button under his desk. “I never told you my name, did I?”

  I leaned back, trying to relax my muscular frame into as non-intimidating a position as was possible when you’re 6’ 5” and 260 lbs.

  “You don’t need to press that. I’m on your side. Plus, your name is on that certificate over there.”

  I gestured with my glass towards the faded, yellowing certificate on the far wall, a good 10 feet away. If I was to be completely honest (which I never was, especially when trying to impress or intimidate), my eyes weren’t that good. I had heard of the heat this guy was facing through some old contacts. The sort of contacts you needed when you were an ex-vigilante slash criminal turned gun for hire, mercenary, bodyguard... hell, I’d do a fucking dog protection service if the money was right.

  I’d even managed to find out his address, name, and a good idea of what his pretty daughter looked like from squinting at her almost-private social media pages.

  Damn, from what I could see she was about an 8. Maybe a 9 after a few drinks. If only I was a few years younger... Nah Axel, you know what happens when you get involved with women... trouble. Strictly professional on this one. Plus she’s probably way out of your league..

  “Truth is, Andrew. I’m good. I’m really fucking good. That’s why I’m expensive, right?” I took another gulp of whiskey.

  Jesus, this is nice stuff. If this is what he has in his office, offering it to muscled, scarred thugs, I wonder what he keeps in his private collection? Probably fucking gold plated bottles.”

  I leaned forward on my elbows, my t-shirt barely managing to contain my bulging biceps and chest muscles. I raised my left eyebrow, knowing it would accentuate the scar running from just above to just below it. I knew I looked mean. Mean and hard as fucking nails.

  “I know the heat you been gettin’. I know the type of hardcore criminals who want in on what you develop, right? And these guys don’t fuck around. Good thing is, neither do I. Shoot first, ask questions later. And I ain’t bad in a fistfight either. And when I say I ain’t bad, I mean I ain’t never found no one who can beat me.”

  I drained my whiskey. Andrew poured me another, his gaze not lifting from my face. I had his full attention. I knew he was impressed, intimidated or slightly jealous. Probably all three.

  “Thanks.” I raised the glass. “Last one for me. I drink more than three, bad shit seems to happen. Even if I ain’t looking for it!”

  I took a smaller gulp and continued my sales pitch. Not that it was needed. I just enjoy attention. Especially the attention this guy’s dolled up secretary with the nice butt and tight top gave me in the waiting room. I wasn’t looking at her, but I knew she kept looking at me.

  “So, let me backtrack some. I took the liberty of doing some research, called in some favours. I’m a step ahead of these bad guys, right? And let me tell you, 9 out of 10 of them won’t even come close. ‘Cause I still got favours I ain’t called in yet. Helped a lot of people out in the past, see?” I winked. “And I’ve done this shit before, tangled with the sort of bad dudes breathing down your neck. And I won.”

  Andrew shook his gaze from me, composing himself.

  “Very impressive,” he murmured softly.

  My “charms” hadn’t worked for too long. He sat back up straight, returning to his businesslike demeanour more quickly than I’d expected. I was impressed. This guy was tougher than he looked. Fuck, you’d have to be to sit in an office all day, year after year. Ain’t good for your soul.

  “Like I said earlier,” he continued; “I did my research too. Not, uh, in the same way as you, but still. I thought you were good before you walked in here. Now I know you’re the man for the job.”

  He stood up slowly and held his arm out. Palm slightly face up. Passive, but not a pussy. I stood with fluid and grace, for a very big man who’d had three whiskeys, towering over the businessman. His eyes widened, clearly impressed. I grabbed his hand, firm but not bone breaking.

  “Alright,” I said. “Consider me hired. Now, you probably don’t have me down as the type of guy but I’m legit...these days. I’m gonna need a contract, and 10% upfront. Expenses, right. Ain’t putting that shit on plastic!”

  I gave him what passed from me as a smile, a half grimace, half smirk. Trying to break the ice, but probably looking like I had indigestion. I did humour, but didn’t smile a lot since, well... since my wife ran out with the fucking Fed-Ex guy. Or milkman, details didn’t matter too much. Last I heard he didn’t walk too good these days, whoever the fuck he was.

  Now ain’t the time to dwell Axel. Bad shit’s happened. Shit that’s in the past. You ain’t no fucking fool these days.

  “I’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon to get the contract. Don’t do snail mail, emails or fucking What
sapp for that matter. Like to stay under the radar. Makes my job a damn sight easier an’ all. I trust that will be enough time for your pretty secretary to type something up?”

  I jerked my thumb behind me, gesturing to the door. Andrew laughed.

  “Her? I pay her to answer the phones and look pretty, and flirt with any old businessman I think might be trouble. Works as well as you’d imagine. No I’ll do this one myself, I think.”

  I barked a short laugh. “Fair enough. ‘Least you know it’s done right first time eh? I know exactly what you mean. Don’t get far in my line of work unless you trust number one, and those handful who have proved they ain’t corrupt as fuck, or morons. Or both, those are the worst.”

  He half turned on the way back to his desk, pausing to pass me a parting gaze.

  “You know what? I think our jobs might be more similar than you think. You could have just described high level corporate bullshit in one sentence! I’ll have to remember that line...” He sat back down in his plush leather armchair and nodded my way. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  I’m guessing that means: “Fuck off now, we’re done here.”

  I left quietly, feeling the secretary’s gaze on me as I passed through the outer office. Probably a sight for sore eyes, all the stiff, sleazy old business types that come through here. I gave her something to look at, walking slowly past her, brushing my slick, greased hair back with my left arm, flexing my bicep as I did so. I could hear cotton rip in the cheap fabric of the short sleeve of my tight plain black T shirt. I paused at the door on the way out, bending down to re-tie a shoelace which didn’t need retying.

  Well, it’d be rude not to give her something to fantasize about later...

  Chapter Three

  Chloe

  Since the reluctant deal I’d come to with my Dad a few days earlier, I’d been frantically trying to organize my trip. With money no longer being an issue I didn’t really have to plan the whole four months travel out in one go. I decided to just get to Europe, and then Daddy’s Amex Black card would handle the rest.

  The first thing I did was have a frantic search for any of my friends who weren’t still studying, knocked up or in full time work. Surprisingly, even with the promise of a no-expense spared luxury trip, only a few had shown interest.

  Then again, I thought to myself. I do sometimes forget I went to a damn expensive school and Ivy League College... some of those bitches are probably richer than my Dad already...

  Luckily I’d managed to find two who at least showed passing interest in joining me on my epic adventure. I’d managed to persuade them by promising that it would be more of a sex-venture, sampling the finest Europe has to offer, and maybe beyond if we were left not quite satisfied...Jess and Amber were the kinda gals who I knew would be down for a trip like this.

  Really, if I met a guy, then sure, I planned on enjoying myself, but really I wanted to experience some of the culture, see the sights, try the food.

  Though I had to admit it to myself, I found myself warming to the idea, quite literally, even as I made up the white lie to reel in the more promiscuous duo. They were shallow and selfish, but were good fun. They also bored easily, and would likely lose interest after the first couple flights or so.

  That’s OK though. I’m sure with my big scary bodyguard protecting me I’ll be able to travel on alone.

  “Fuck it! Shit!” I shouted angrily at my huge suitcase, slumping down on my bed in defeat. I was wearing nothing but some small white panties, my chin in my hands and elbows on my knees. I had been absent mindedly arranging my clothes while I daydreamed, and somehow the suitcase was now stuffed to bursting - and there was still a pile of clothes on the bed that I simply couldn’t bear to leave behind.

  I felt my frown lifting; “I’ll just buy another suitcase! I won’t be carrying them anyway, right?”

  I jumped up, punching the air as if I’d just had a major breakthrough and made a life-changing decision. I felt my boobs bounce as I jumped, catching sight of myself in the full length mirror opposite the foot of my bed.

  Damn, when did they get so big? I’m gonna be beating these Euro guys away with a stick!

  I stood there, pouting with my hands on my hips, my long blonde hair cascading down my shoulders to just above my hands posing in front of the mirror, adopting a few different sexy (or at least what I imagined was sexy) poses.

  I was halfway through my second pose when the doorbell rang.

  Shit, great timing.

  It was probably someone delivering one of the expensive accessories I’d ordered for the trip. I knew it was someone trusted or wearing a uniform, or they wouldn't have got past the guards on the gate.

  Ooh, it could be those bikinis...

  I decided against giving the visitor an eyeful and put on a large, fluffy pink dressing gown, though leaving it a bit looser than was strictly necessary.

  “You never know, it could be a hot delivery guy for once,” I mused, aloud. But everyone knew that only happened in pornos, or crappy movies.

  I ran down the large spiral staircase, lightly gripping the handrail as I charged down the stairs, reaching the front door in what was probably record time, spurred on by the anticipation of the impending unwrapping of an expensive item or four, giddy with shopping glee.

  I opened the door, and found myself staring chest level at a hulking figure that seemed to almost fill the doorway, muscles bulging visibly below a black, too tight t-shirt. I raised my gaze to head height, passing the well muscled arms and shoulders on the way up, arms politely held behind his back in an almost military pose. I wasn’t too short at 5’6”, but this guy was a good foot or so taller than me.

  My girlish glee evaporated in an instant, and I froze like a rabbit in the headlights, wide eyed. Then my brain unfroze.

  Ah so this must be the bodyguard. Or possibly not, I don’t think the guards on the gate would have had much chance against this guy. Well, if i'm being kidnapped, at least he’s hot. Massive, but yeah, very hot.

  “Ma’am”, the figure nodded, his calm and softly spoken deep voice oddly hypnotic.

  “You must be Chloe. Sorry if I, ah, got you at a bad time. Your Dad, well, he said you’d be in so. Here I am.”

  He shifted his weight from one knee to the other. I could tell by his pose that he was favouring his left knee. A scar that ran down one side of his face contorted as he frowned.

  “Shit. Sorry. I’m going to be your bodyguard. Guess I should have started with that.” His frown softened. “Ain’t too good at this bit. The protecting part, though; that’s the bit I excel at, Ma’am.”

  No shit. This guy looks like he could shrug off bullets.

  I did my best to regain my composure, remembering that this guy was going to be working for me effectively. I looked again at his arms.

  And carrying my cases...

  “First of all, stop calling me Ma’am,” I said, putting on a face and crossing my arms under my breasts. I felt my dressing gown part slightly and my boobs squeeze together, accentuating my ample cleavage.

  “My name’s Chloe, as you well know. I’m not sure why my Dad’s sent you here yet. I’m not nearly ready. I haven’t even booked a flight yet!”

  His hand was suddenly in front of me, held out in greeting. How a big man moved so quickly was astounding...

  “Pleased to meet you, Chloe.” His hand was still hovering in front of my arms. “I’m Axel. Axel Miller.”

  I shook his huge hand briefly, the exchange slightly awkward due to the size difference. “And that’s fine. I’m on retainer, fixed fee. I’m ready when you’re ready. Need anything doing, just ask. Or you need me to fuck off into the shadows, same goes. Any sign of trouble though, you won’t need to shout; it will be over before you even know it.”

  I looked again at the figure standing awkwardly in front of me. For a moment before the handshake I thought I had seen a softness in his eyes, a glimpse through his well-rehearsed I’m a fucking badass facade. I narrowed my eyes
at his face. Nothing.

  Hmm, I might have imagined it... But maybe there’s a normal guy in there somewhere. And I can’t blame him for looking, I’m not exactly wearing much. Well at least if the trip goes to shit I’ll have my own, secret, personal Psychology project to work on...

  Axel

  I shifted awkwardly again, the decade old bullet wound in my right knee causing me grief.

  I can never fucking tell when it's going to hurt. Might be the fucking weather. Christ, I’m getting old. Only 37 and I know when it's going to fucking rain before CNN. At least the sneaky Russian who shot me is swimming with the fishes. Well, a guy ain't got much choice with concrete boots on... The memory seemed to alleviate the gnawing pain somewhat.

  I’m pretty sure Chloe had caught me looking. Fucking hell, she was beautiful. Not like a dolled up bar girl or stripper. This girl had almost nothing on except a dressing gown, not a speck of makeup, and she was stunning. From what my eyes’ brief foray down her body had seen, she wasn't wearing a bra either.

  Christ. Big boobs, big hips. Slim waist. Not too short, not too tall, long blonde hair... Fuck, keep it together, Axel.

  In an instant, I was back to my hard-man military pose.

  “You got it, Chlo’.”

  She frowned at the shortening of her name. It would probably piss her off, but I bet she was even fucking hotter when she was angry. And it would be funny, to boot. “Tell you what. How’s about I come back here in a couple days? I got shit to do, favours to call in, whiskey to drink. You know, the usual. I’ll bring a car and we can arrange a plan, OK?”

  Her eyebrows raised. “How about I just call you?” she said.

  How about your phone is probably fucking tapped, beautiful?

  OK. But look, just do me a favour. No names on the phone. No locations. Just tell me what time to bring a car to get you, and get your pretty friends to meet you here, right? Now, I’m guessing you’ll need a big car. Yeah?”