One Warm Winter

by Jamie Pope

  “No, ma’am. I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s just that most of us weren’t raised—we were dragged up. They’ll not understand the kind of privilege you’ve had.”

  “Or the loneliness it brings,” she said quietly, not intending to be so honest. “You have people you can return to when you need them. Right now, it seems as if I just have you to depend on. And I’m sure you’re only doing this because of how much my father is paying you.”

  He said nothing to that. But she knew it was true. She had been told she had been saved from a life of poverty. She was raised to be grateful for the massive amounts of wealth at her disposal, but right now she would have given all of it just to have a normal family, a normal life.

  “Your last name is now Anderson, if anyone asks.”

  “So, no one knows that you work for my father?”

  “Just some very rich man.”

  “I don’t know anything about you. How are they supposed to believe we’re a couple?”

  “I’ll tell you the basics in the car on the ride over.”

  “There’s one major thing I think will give us away.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ma’am. No one calls their girlfriend ma’am.”

  * * *

  Cullen was uneasy about his choice to take her to his home. But it was the only place that made sense to him. She needed to be where no one could find her. And no one would find her here, because no one would look for her here. Whenever he was here he felt like he was on another planet, because this place was too calm, too peaceful to be on the earth as he knew it.

  “When’s your birthday?” she asked him, and he almost didn’t hear her because he was getting lost in his thoughts. That happened to him when he was here. The ocean air, the warm sun, the scent of salt water, did something to him.

  But unlike his other visits here, he wasn’t here on vacation. He was still at work. He couldn’t relax completely. He couldn’t allow himself to let down his guard.

  He had never brought anyone to this place. Never even told another person about it. It was that private to him.

  But his first thought was to bring her here. He had gone through the other options where he had contacts. New Zealand. Thailand. Denmark. None of those places seemed right, because of logistics. He kept circling back to here. And if he were truthful with himself, his soul was pulling him here. He had been gone too long.

  All the important people in his life were here and he wanted to see them again.

  Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder: How would they respond to her? She was so damn different from them. Not stuck-up, just bred to be better than they were.

  “It’s February twenty-fifth,” he answered.

  “It’s coming up. I’ll have to get you a present.”

  “You don’t need to.” He almost said ma’am, but then he remembered himself. He was going to have to pass her off as his girlfriend. It was the only part of the plan he didn’t think out. The only part of the plan he hadn’t allowed himself to think out.

  “That’s what you said when I gave you your Christmas present. I know I didn’t need to. I wanted to. You’re supposed to say thank you. It’s polite.”

  “I wasn’t raised with good manners like you. Besides, none of my principals had ever given me an actual gift before. I was surprised.”

  “I always give my security gifts. I like to give them something personal. I knew Bobby loved jazz, so I got him tickets to a show, but I don’t know anything about you, so I just got you leather gloves.”

  “You miss Bobby, don’t you?”

  “I do. Very much so. He was my friend.”

  He had never heard of anybody describing their personal bodyguard as their friend, but he remembered Wyn’s life. She worked and she went home. That was it. There didn’t seem to be much more to it.

  “What happened to Bobby?”

  “He got old. My bag got snatched when I was in Barcelona as I was coming out of a guest lecture. Bobby ran after the guy, but couldn’t catch him. There wasn’t even anything important in it. I keep my phone and my wallet on my body when I’m overseas, but my father heard about it and had a fit. He fired Bobby. He was with me for twelve years and he just let him go. He told me he had been slowing down for years and that since he was running for office he needed someone younger and faster. I told him I didn’t need a bodyguard anymore. The next thing I knew, you were hired.”

  “That’s enough to make you resent a man.”

  “Not really. I made sure that Bobby was taken care of. And I learned from an early age that to my father, most people are disposable. Including the women who love him.”

  He heard bitterness in her voice. He had always wondered how she had felt about her father. He seemed content to spoil her. The way Wyn lived her life seemed to be in direct opposition to what her father wanted. She never attended his events. She rarely visited his office. Her mother was clearly the parent she was closer to. It made Cullen’s job a hell of a lot easier, but it also sent a firm message to her father. She wanted no part of his political life.

  “How old are you, Cullen?”

  “I’ll be thirty-six.”

  “When did you join the military?”

  “When I was seventeen. I had left Northern Ireland for London when I was fifteen.”

  “I love London. In which part did you live?”

  “On the streets,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Until me mum’s cousin found me and took me in. He got me enlisted.”

  “What happened to your parents?”

  “Mum’s dead. Bomb killed her during the Troubles when I was a boy. My father is a drunk. I was on my way to becoming a low-level criminal. The army changed my life. I went right into the infantry and saw action even before I was old enough to drink.”

  “But you became Special Forces? Isn’t that rare for someone so young?”

  “Aye.” He nodded. “I was good at what I did.”

  “Why aren’t you in the military anymore?”

  “Got shot. Three times. Still got half a bullet in my shoulder.”

  “Oh. I broke my arm in three places when I slipped by the pool. I had to get surgery to repair the damage. Left a nasty scar. We’ll have to compare battle wounds one day.”

  He glanced over at her to see if she was serious. But a little smile crept across her face. “Aye, Wyn. We will.”

  He wondered what was going through her head. She seemed to be taking everything in stride, but he knew she must be a mess. She had slipped back on her calm and collected mask. She made little jokes. Her quiet gracefulness had returned, but he could see it in her eyes. She was still bewildered. Her father would not speak to her. He offered her no answers. But he had spoken to Cullen. He was ordered to stay with Wynter round the clock until further notice and to keep her from finding out anything else. He wanted her shielded from this. Cullen didn’t know how he was expected to do that. She would want answers. She wasn’t a child who could continuously have the wool pulled over eyes. And yet he agreed. His salary instantly tripled as a reward.

  Cullen had already been paid very well, but this money was enough to set him up for life. Wynter was his last principal. He knew that going in. As soon as he was done with this job, he would retire from everything and spend the rest of his days living his life on this island.

  He pulled up to the compound where he and his friends lived. It was gated. Separated into two sections. One they rented out and the part they all called home. Most of the property was hidden away in the lush rain forest.

  They had agreed to make it nice. Their dream home. Hardworking people who had saved their entire paychecks for years spent their money on this. It was the only thing they had.

  “We built this place ourselves with the help of the locals,” he told Wyn. “In the center is the community house. That’s where we prepare and take most of our meals. When we go shopping, the rule is half of what you buy must go into the community kitchen. We take turns cooking as well
. Most of us aren’t good at it, so you’ll be having a lot of grilled meat.”

  “I can cook. I like to.” She turned to face him. “Where do you shop?”

  “There’s a village not far from here. We get packaged things from there, but you can pick bananas, mangoes, limes, and a bunch of other fruits right on the property. We fish from time to time. There’s a couple of good restaurants that the locals go to that we like.”

  “What else should I know?”

  “You’ll meet most of the crew soon. Some of us spend most of the year someplace else working. We come here to play. To relax.” He almost said “to heal,” but he left that part out even though it was probably their number-one reason for coming. “Some of us stay here full-time to run the business.”

  She nodded and looked at him in the same way she did when she attended a conference—with curious interest. He was surprised she didn’t pull out a pen and paper and take notes. “Anything else I should know?”

  “Probably, but it’s not that important at the moment.”

  “I think I’ll like it here.”

  He wasn’t so sure that she would, but he wanted her to. It was a daft thought. She was here, not because she wanted to be, but because her serenity had been blown up stateside. Maybe he wanted her to love it because he loved it here. This was his home. This is where he wanted to spend the rest of his days. In peace. In quiet. In relative solitude.

  He pulled up to his cottage, which was the furthest out on the compound. It was green with white shutters and had a porch wrapped all the way around. There were wildflowers everywhere and the sounds of birds and wind and peace.

  This was his paradise.

  “It’s lovely,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he said with some pride. He had designed every inch of his home. He had been awarded for bravery by his government, but he was prouder of this, because for so many years he never thought he would have a place to call his own. “Let me show you inside.”

  He led her into the house. It was open, the living room and kitchen one big space with tall ceilings that made it feel airy even when the climate was so humid. The decor was simple; sparse, even. He thought he should put something up on the walls: a painting, photographs . . . something, but he hadn’t been here in a year and he would have all the time in the world to make this place feel more like home after he was done with Wyn.

  “You can take the master. There’s a bathroom in there, so you’ll have more privacy.”

  She glanced into his bedroom and then walked past it and into the room next door. “I’m not sleeping in your bedroom.”

  “But, ma’am. . . .”

  She shook her head and walked over to the window, looking out at the view. “It’s so beautiful here.”

  He could no longer see her face, but her shoulders had sagged a bit. He walked up behind her. “What am I going to do now?” she asked herself, more than to him.

  It was a good question. One he didn’t know the answer to.

  “Ayo, Cullen!” he heard a booming voice behind him yell.

  He’d know Kingsley Clark’s voice anywhere. He was a massive man with a huge smile and a huge personality to match. He was Nigerian by birth, British by citizenship. They had met in the army when they had both been deployed to Afghanistan. Kingsley was his first friend when Cullen was a skinny pale boy who was scared shitless.

  “King!” He hugged his friend, who he hadn’t seen in over a year. He was away the last time Cullen had been here. Over Kingsley’s shoulder he saw Jazz. She was the kind of gorgeous a man rarely got to experience. She disarmed people with her looks, which had made her the perfect agent.

  “Jazz.” He grinned at her. “Get over here, you minx.”

  He hugged her too. She still smelled and felt the same. He was happy to see her again.

  She didn’t miss a thing. Her eyes zeroed in on Wynter, who was standing slightly behind him, looking like the proper intellectual she was. Automatically, he knew she wasn’t going to fit in. But he knew that she wouldn’t the moment he decided to bring her here.

  He took her arm and brought her closer to him, feeling the need to protect her from them. “This is Wynter. She’s special to me.”

  “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said, sounding every bit the like American heiress she was raised to be. “Call me Wyn.”

  Kingsley grinned widely. “Little sis!” He scooped her into a bear hug and spun her around. “Welcome to the fam.”

  Cullen was afraid of how she was going to respond, but he saw that she was genuinely smiling, her cheeks slightly flushed.

  “Thank you.” She grinned at Kingsley. “I think everyone should be greeted like that every day.”

  Jazz’s greeting was less warm. “I’m Jazz. It’s nice to meet you. Cullen didn’t tell us he was bringing you along.” Jazz’s eyes took every inch of Wynter in, no doubt making judgments about who she was just based on her body language. Unlike most people’s snap judgments, Jazz’s were always right. It was why she had been so excellent at her job.

  “I didn’t know I was coming here either. He surprised me with this trip.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  “In D.C.,” she said without hesitation.

  “How?”

  “I’m a linguist. I often work for the government and act as a translator in high-level meetings. I met Cullen while he was working.”

  Jazz nodded. Cullen was impressed with how smoothly she handled that interrogation.

  It wasn’t exactly a lie. He had been hired to work for her when they had met and the very first thing he accompanied her to was a meeting at the Pentagon.

  “How many languages do you speak?”

  “Eight fluently.”

  Jazz said something to her that sounded like Russian.

  Wyn replied in the same language and then switched to Spanish with lightning speed. Cullen could see it took Jazz a moment to catch up to what she was saying. He knew Jazz hated that. She liked to think she was the smartest person in the room at all times.

  “You don’t speak Castilian Spanish?” Jazz probed.

  “I do, but I find it useless when most of the people I translate for are from Latin America. Have you been to Mexico City? It’s my favorite place in the world.”

  “I haven’t. I spent most of my traveling time in Europe.”

  “Really? We’ll have to compare travel stories sometime,” Wyn said with a smile.

  Cullen was shocked that Wyn was holding her own with Jazz. She intimidated most mortals. But quiet, bookish Wyn was made of sterner stuff, apparently. “I was just showing Wyn around the house. It’s been a long journey for us. Give us a few minutes to get settled and I’ll meet the rest of you at the community house.”

  Jazz and Kingsley left them alone.

  Wyn let out a deep breath. “Kingsley is lovely. Jazz hates me. She’s clearly in love with you.”

  “What?” Her comment knocked him off guard. “No. She’s like a sister to me. That’s what you’re seeing.”

  There was a brief time, maybe five years ago, when he thought there could be something between him and Jazz, but it didn’t work out because it couldn’t work out. There was nothing left between them except a decades-long friendship.

  “I want to tell her that I’m no threat to her, but I’m here as your girlfriend. To her, I am a threat.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how we’re going to do this. Or if I can do this.”

  “It’s too late. We don’t have a choice. This is the safest place you can be. If I vouch for you, they’ll die for you.”

  “They’ll die for you. I’m just some girl you brought along.” She turned away from him. “I think I need to be alone for a little while.” She walked out of the cottage. Cullen was right at her heels, prepared to follow her, but he stopped himself.

  She wasn’t in D.C. She was at his home. And here he wasn’t supposed to be her bodyguard. He needed to give her some freedom, but it was harder than he expected to let her
go.

  Chapter 3

  Wyn had no idea where she was going as she left Cullen’s cottage. She knew she just needed to get out. She had been trying to hold it together since she heard the news that had rocked her entire being. She hated crying. She hated feeling sorry for herself, so she refused to do it, but she couldn’t be inside anymore.

  It was one thing when they were in D.C. in the little protective bubble that Cullen had created, but he had taken her away from there. She had never been to the Virgin Islands before, and on the car ride over here she had been too preoccupied by learning all she could about the man who was supposed to be her lover that she barely paid attention to her lush surroundings, but she was here. In paradise. With the heat on her face and the humidity pulling at her straightened hair. A few minutes here and she already didn’t feel like herself.

  She hadn’t spoken to anyone else but Cullen since yesterday, but his friends had come to greet them and suddenly the past two days caught up with her. She was supposed to pretend that her life hadn’t been rocked. She was supposed to pretend that she was in love with a man who before yesterday she’d barely had a conversation with.

  It all seemed like too much. Especially when one of the people she was trying to fool had been suspicious of her before she said one word.

  Maybe she should have stayed in D.C., let the reporters hound her, let them dig. They might have found something. Just like they had found the pictures of her as a child. There were just letters now. Speculation, even though she knew the tale was true due to her father’s silence alone, but she wanted proof. She needed it. It would claw at her soul if she didn’t have it. But she didn’t know how to go about getting it. She didn’t know where to start, or even how to go about looking. But she knew it would be nearly impossible for her to stay here for any length of time and just be idle.

  She worked. She always had. It was tied to her identity.

  Wynter sat on a rock to the side of the hiking trail she was on. She wasn’t sure how far she had gone or how long she had been walking. Her feet ached a little. Her simple designer flats were not right for this setting. She had been too shell-shocked yesterday to ask Cullen where they were going.