by Nia Arthurs
“Who else?”
“Don’t worry about Deke.” McKinley slapped his back. “We were all newbies once.”
“I didn’t make so many mistakes.”
“Because you’re Asian,” McKinley said with a smirk. He broke into Creole. “Unnu haffu be perfect at everything.”
“How enlightening. I’m Asian, but I never knew that rule.”
“There’s the sarcasm.” McKinley laughed. “Weren’t you nervous at all your first year?”
Jerry shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
Oh, yes he did.
He was one of only five Asians who had joined the police force in the history of Belize. That first day, he sweated like a maniac and had to rush to use the bathroom several times.
Morgan Renaeu, his FTO, threw Jerry into the deep end and forced him to figure things out on his own. Apparently, Renaeu never thought he’d live to see the day when Asians wore khakis.
Looking back, Jerry was glad his FTO was so hard on him. He grew thick skin quickly and did everything by the books. His perseverance earned him the top performing officer award three years straight.
“They’d be crazy not to consider you for the elite force team. You train every chance you get, your marksmanship is on point, and you’ve got the minimum five years of experience. Expect the call.”
“We’ll see.” They turned the corner, nearing the offices of the big wigs in the force.
“What do you think Sarge called us to discuss?” McKinley asked.
“Don’t know, but I hope he makes it quick. It’s been a long day.” Jerry blew out a breath. While everyone looked forward to Fridays, the department dreaded weekends.
Grown adults off work for a couple days act like teenagers. He’d already made three arrests today and it wasn’t even nightfall.
Both men stopped in front of the door marked with the black and silver nameplate ‘SERGEANT’. McKinley swung on his heels and turned to him, muscled arms bound at his sides. “Ready, Corporal?”
Jerry shifted his chin down for a quick nod and swung the door in.
The sergeant’s office was large and brightly lit, but no one would be able to tell. Documents littered every conceivable space. Stacks of paper balanced on top of large bookshelves and on the desk.
Sunshine struggled through a window that was covered with plastic to prevent the air conditioning from seeping out. The green walls, intended to calm all its occupants, was the color of puke.
“That you Jenell?” Sergeant Davis asked, his head still bowed toward his desk.
“No, sir.” McKinley spoke in a clear, strong voice. There was no hint of brevity in him now. “Corporal McKinley and Corporal Lang reporting.”
Jerry strode forward, keeping his gaze straight ahead.
Sergeant Davis unfolded himself from the chair and rose to his full height. He was not a tall man, but he had an air of authority that gave him several extra inches. His face was tan and leathery as if the sun had slapped him around a few too many times.
“Good, you’re here.” The sergeant’s voice was raspy and low. “I have an assignment for the both of you.”
“Sir?” McKinley leaned forward. His lips twitched in a poor attempt to hide his excitement. “Are we going undercover?”
Jerry’s eyes widened. He had never been given such a task. He was a cop through and through. He was also Asian in a mostly Black Creole and Hispanic nation. It was nearly impossible for him to blend in anywhere.
“No,” Sergeant’s sharp black eyes zipped to Jerry. “Not undercover.”
Jerry remained quiet.
Sergeant Davis rose and circled the desk. He wore a khaki shirt and dark navy pants with green stripes on the sides. Since he was higher in rank than a corporal, he had three stripes on his shirtsleeve rather than two.
“The Prime Minister’s daughter was attacked this afternoon.”
“Which one?” McKinley asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” Davis twisted around and dragged a file from the desk. He tossed it at McKinley. “I’m assigning you to the team investigating the case.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you.”
Jerry straightened and stared at the wall. “Yes, sir?”
“Your assignment is to protect her.”
Surprised slackened his mouth. “Sir?”
“What?” Sergeant Davis froze and gave him a sour look. “You don’t want to?”
“If I may, sir, isn’t there someone from the BDF—”
“The Prime Minister doesn’t want the public finding out about this. If we assign someone from the Belize Defense Force, it’ll be all over the news by sundown. He wants us to be discreet, and he wants the best. So… I picked you.”
Jerry was sure Sergeant Davis expected him to be flattered.
Too bad.
“Sir, I’m not equipped to be a personal bodyguard.” Or personal babysitter to some entitled brat. “I’m doing important work and—”
“And protecting the Prime Minister’s family is what? Dog crap?” Davis’s bushy eyebrows slanted together. “When the PM is worrying about his daughter’s safety instead of focusing on protecting our country, you think we don’t suffer?”
“No, sir.” Jerry stared at the ground.
Davis sighed. “I know what you’re thinking, Lang. You want a position in the BSAG. And you deserve it. But this country runs on politics, not effort.”
“Sir?” Jerry glanced up, surprised. Had his superiors been considering him for the position?
“Take on this case. Protect the girl for a few weeks. Do a good job,” Davis scratched his chin, “and then we can talk.”
Jerry bowed his head, a habit fifteen years of living in the Caribbean couldn’t break. “Yes, sir.”
“She’s at the Medical Center. Go there now. McKinley!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Start canvassing the area. Check all the security cameras in a twenty-foot radius then branch out.” Davis walked back to his chair and sank into it. “People are targeting the Prime Minister’s family. What is Belize coming to?”
Since it was a question he didn’t expect an answer to, Jerry remained silent.
Davis noticed them standing there and flitted his hand. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out!”
McKinley scrambled for the door while Jerry strode behind him.
As soon as they were safely in the hallway, McKinley offered his fist. “Looks like you’re getting everything you deserve, Jer.”
Jerry bumped their knuckles together, but his expression was grave. “I have to deal with this kid first.”
“I wonder if it’s Meghan?” McKinley stared into the distance.
“It doesn’t matter who it is. This is my ticket to the BSAG.” Jerry’s expression became determined. “I’ll see you later, McKinley.”
“Good luck.” McKinley opened his file. As he walked away, Jerry heard his friend groan. “There goes my weekend…”
He smiled softly as he got into his vehicle and drove to the hospital.
Travelling in full uniform was normally a hassle in the humid, Caribbean weather, but he was grateful for the cooperation it brought.
When Jerry arrived at the hospital and asked for Miss Slade, he was shown to the room without question. Which would be dangerous if he were here to hurt her.
Maybe this was why she needed a bodyguard.
Jerry followed the nurse’s instruction and stopped before a door in the recovery ward. The hospital was smaller and fancier than the public one he frequented that was just down the street. He’d only ever been here to receive witness testimonies.
Jerry opened the door and stepped in.
The room was huge and could easily occupy six cots, but it only held one. A woman sat in the bed, her legs tucked beneath her so her knees jutted out on either side. She wore a long purple skirt, a thin black tank top and had short, curly black hair.
She glanced up when he walked in and their gazes collided.
He
r familiar face struck a memory—a dancing celebrity, a concert in flames. Meghan Slade. He’d heard she’d gotten burned badly, but she looked fine to him. Her face was still pretty, her arms still smooth.
Before Jerry could complete his inspection, a woman who’d been sitting in a chair near the cot jumped to her feet. She had dark brown skin and long black hair.
He recognized her as the wife of the Prime Minister, but even if he didn’t know her face on sight, he would have painted her as someone of a high status. She wore a black pantsuit, a diamond watch and shimmering pearl earrings.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Jerry bowed. “My name is Corporal Jerry Lang.” He glanced at Meghan Slade again. She watched him back with frank, appraising eyes. “And I’m your bodyguard.”
Chapter 3
“Bodyguard?” Her mother pulled her eyebrows together and glared at the stranger standing in the middle of Meghan’s hospital room. “Who sent you?”
“Sergeant Davis, ma’am.” Corporal Jerry Lang had a deep voice, the kind that brought the wide, haunting bass notes of a Segundo drum to mind.
“Let me see about this,” Georgina mumbled, dipping her hand into her designer purse. She pulled out her cell phone and hoisted it at Corporal Lang like a weapon. “I told Wendell to hop on a plane back to Belize this instant! How dare he send a bodyguard instead?”
Meghan ducked her head to hide her smile. Her father would be in for an earful now.
“You,” Georgina pointed at Corporal Lang as she passed by, a cell phone glued to her ear, “stay right there. Don’t go anywhere.”
The corporal bowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her mother left, slamming the door behind her.
Silence filled the room, broken only by the steady beep of the heart monitor.
Meghan studied the corporal. He had thick black hair, pale skin and plump pink lips. If not for the tilt of his deep-set brown eyes, Meghan would consider him Hispanic instead of Asian.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she said. Her words shattered the stillness. Lingered in the air. Meghan felt a moment of uncertainty when he didn’t immediately respond. Had he heard her?
Corporal Lang slid his attention away from the wall behind her head and focused on her face. Something stirred deep in her chest when he held her gaze and didn’t look away. “What happened to your head?”
Her fingers floated in the air and traced the gauze taped to her temple. “Shouldn’t you know that already?”
“I do. But given your question, I wondered if you had forgotten.”
Her eyes narrowed. So he was definitely not here to coddle her. “It was an isolated incident.”
“Of course.”
“Something like this has never happened before.”
“You’re the expert.”
She paused. Tilted her head. “Are you… mocking me, right now?”
“No, ma’am.” He moved his gaze away from her, which seemed to hammer in the subtle sarcasm in his words.
A grin tugged on her lips. “How refreshing.”
Surprise flickered across his face. “Ma’am?”
“Everyone’s been walking on eggshells around me. I was starting to think that if I heard anything mildly annoying, I would shatter into a million pieces.” She leaned back into her pillows.
“I didn’t mean to annoy you,” he said. His expression returned to the stoic frown he’d worn when he first entered. “My job is to keep you safe. Everything I do, I do to that end.”
She nodded. “I believe you.”
Her mother burst back into the room. From the way her chest heaved, Meghan knew the conversation with her father hadn’t gone down well. “Officer Wang—”
“It’s Lang,” he corrected.
Her mother’s jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly and waved him away. “I just got off the phone with the Prime Minister. I understand you were assigned to my daughter, but I don’t feel comfortable letting someone we don’t know well take this on.”
“I understand, ma’am.”
His calm acceptance in what was—for all intents and purposes—a ‘you’re fired’ speech threw Georgina off balance. “I’m sure you’re more than qualified, but I wouldn’t trust anyone to guard my daughter. We’ll use Bruce for the time being until we’re sure all threats have passed.”
“No,” Meghan said. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until she saw both her mother and Corporal Lang staring at her.
“Excuse me?” Georgina gawked.
Meghan blinked at Corporal Lang. “I trust him.”
Whether it was the effect of a man in uniform or her instincts taking control, that was the truth. There was something so… solid about Corporal Jerry Lang.
If it was necessary for someone to shadow her for a few weeks until her dad felt safe enough to let her be free again, she didn’t want anyone else.
“I want him.”
“Meghan…”
“Mom, Bruce is your personal security. What if he stops shadowing you and someone throws a rock at your head. How am I supposed to live with myself?”
“I am a mother before I am the Prime Minister’s wife,” Georgina shot back. “It’s my responsibility to protect you. Not the other way around.”
“What if we protect each other?” Meghan looked at Corporal Lang. “I like him.”
Georgina’s eyebrow inched higher on her forehead. “What exactly did you two discuss when I was gone?”
Corporal Lang remained silent so Meghan took his cue and kept her mouth shut too.
“Fine.” Georgina stomped up to the officer. He towered over her, but she didn’t seem bothered in the least. “Take care of my daughter. If there’s so much as a scratch on her skin, you will be held responsible.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Meghan wiped her smile as her mother turned on her heels and returned to the hospital bed. “Since you’re so confident, I’ll let you win this one. Bruce already dealt with the hospital fees. You can leave anytime.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll be at the Special Envoy meeting. It shouldn’t be more than a couple hours. Go straight home, understand? I’ll call you tonight.”
Meghan felt like a child again as she nodded.
Her mother leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I love you,” she whispered. “We will find someone who can help.”
Meghan watched her leave and then swung her legs off the bed. “Alright. Let’s go.”
“Go?” Corporal Lang tilted his head. “Go where?”
“For ice cream.” She slipped her tennis shoes on and walked toward him. He watched her approach with dark, glinting eyes. “I never got it thanks to this lovely surprise.” She pointed to her forehead.
“Miss Slade—”
“Call me Meghan.”
He seemed uncomfortable, but dutifully called her name. “Meghan, your mother left strict instructions to return home.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It’s not safe.”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
A muscle in his jaw bunched. “My hearing’s just fine.”
“Did I make a mistake?” Meghan tapped her chin. “Should I let Bruce protect me for a while?”
Will he buy it?
Meghan had no intentions of defecting to Bruce for anything. He was her mother’s loyal dog and he would never defy her orders. But Corporal Lang didn’t know that.
She held her breath as he considered her request. Meghan counted all the way up to six before Corporal Lang finally offered a response.
“Okay. Just ice cream. Then we go home.”
“Awesome.” Meghan prepared to bounce out the door when Corporal Lang slid in front of her. She frowned and tried to look past the solid mass of him. “What are you doing?”
His dark eyes burrowed into hers. The strange sensation in her chest acted up again. “Before we leave this room, I want to make one thing clear.”
She sighed. “What is it?”
Corporal Lang pointed a long, slender finger. She stared at it, marveling at how beautiful his hands were. His fingers were pale, the nails cut short and blunt. She could see him stretching his palms over piano keys.
Does he play?
“When we’re outside,” Corporal Lang drew an invisible line over her body, “everything from the tip of your head to your smallest toe is mine.”
“Sure…” Since she’d been caught up in his hands and had only been listening with half of her attention, Meghan mumbled her agreement and then stiffened. “Wait, what?”
“I’ll listen to you.” He offered his hand, palm up. “In return, you listen to me. Give and take. That sound fair?”
“If I say no?”
“Then I walk out this door, alone. And you can find someone else.”
Meghan eyed him, wondering if he was bluffing like she had when she threatened to switch him out for Bruce. Corporal Lang’s poker face was ten times better than hers.
She couldn’t take that chance.
But she couldn’t let him have control so early in their relationship either.
“I don’t like being told what to do. Especially by strangers who don’t know me.” Meghan lifted her chin.
“Alright then.” He held his hands at his sides and bowed. As soon as he straightened, he marched for the exit.
“Wait!” Meghan skidded in front of him and pressed her back against the door so he couldn’t leave.
Corporal Lang watched her stonily, but if she looked closely, she saw a little sparkle in his eye. “Is there a problem?”
“You win. Okay?” Meghan lifted her hands in supplication. “If I don’t have a bodyguard, my parents will drag me back to their place and lock me up for the rest of my youth. Nobody wants that.” She tilted her head and pushed out her bottom lip. “What if we compromise?”
“On what?”
“From here—” She pointed to her hips and then followed the line to her curls. “To here is yours. The rest is mine.”
“No deal.” Corporate Lang reached for the door.
She grabbed his hand, restraining him from touching the lock. “You want the opposite end? From my hips to my legs?”
He stepped closer. His voice was a whisper soft growl when he demanded, “I want all of you.”