Chapter 2: Just This Once

Raphael:

Goddamn, I can’t believe I was actually going through with this. It’s been years, wait, more like a decade, since I had started working with Havoc Security. I mean, Jason’s my best pal, of course I’d taken the job when he begged me to. But it was meant to be temporary. To help train his men into protectors. To show them what being a bodyguard was all about. Now, it’s been eleven years, and I need out. Badly. Especially as the Havoc Daemons have slowly dripped into the security section of the business. Their mobster ways are going to run us further into the ground. Luckily, our branch, Wolff Protection, has been clean of any dirt or blood. So far anyway.

“Come on Raph, please don’t do this to me.” Jason leans back in his large office chair, scratching at his thinning hairline as he stared down at his desk.

On top of which laid a very, dare I say, delicately worded letter indicating my resignation.

“Sorry J, I can’t keep doing this, and you know it. I’m not built for it anymore.”

“Screw that. You know that’s shit. Look at you man, you’re more fit than half my crew that are half your age.”

Yeah, well, maybe he shouldn’t be hiring eighteen-year-olds with no experience. I bite my tongue, though. It’s not my business. Or my problem anymore. I have enough savings to last me for the rest of my days, as long as I’m frugal with it, and even if I don’t, I’m sure I could find a good part-time job to make due.

“Okay, okay,” Jason leaned forward, his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands. “I get that you want to be done. I get that. But please, could you reconsider your time limit?”

“What do you mean?”

As Jason leans over to grab something from his drawer, I watch the man. He has been my best friend for going on thirty years now. We’ve done everything together. Gone to war, to college, built this business together. Now I was throwing all of that away. For peace. For quiet.

“Here. I got a case over the weekend. I think it might end up being high profile.”

“Fantastic.” I don’t even try to hide the sarcasm. Those cases are the worst. Stuck-up princes and princesses with daddy’s money, flaunting themselves everywhere they go. There’s no use in even trying to protect them.

“Raph, she sounded terrified. She left a voicemail on the line over the weekend, and I didn’t get to it until this morning. I haven’t called her yet, and I’m worried what kind of state she’s in if she’s been this terrified all weekend.”

“Why not simply go to the police?” I mumble. “What is it this time?”

“Stalking.”

Of course. Isn’t it always with these types?

I flip through the file that Jason handed over and read some of his notes. Wait, “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. A romance author? Come on, Jason.” I want to laugh. Is he serious?

“I’m nothing but serious. This woman sounded terrified. The least we can do is to hear her out. Plus, her manager is the one that reached out to me first.”

That’s odd. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve been getting weird messages and gifts for the last six months. They’ve steadily gotten worse, but the author didn’t want to do anything about it. She thought they’d disappear over time. But they came here to LA for some business a few weeks ago, and the messages kept coming. Karoline Stegner is her manager and reached out, inquiring about our rates and how we would protect her client.”

“And?”

“She didn’t hire us, of course. Apparently, the author didn’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of bulky men or something.” Jason shrugged and leaned back, folding his arms.

“Really?” That's odd, considering what she does for a living.

“Raph, stop judging, and how about you take this seriously.”

“I am, okay? So she didn’t want to get anyone involved. Why’d she decide to reach out now?”

“Apparently, after a book signing on Saturday she was gifted a bouquet of flowers by the same man, but no one was supposed to know of her whereabouts that day. It was a last-minute schedule change. When she was leaving the store, she heard someone following her, and once she was in her car, she saw them run away in the glare of her headlights.”

Okay, so I’m definitely not going to say that it’s a coincidence. Because frankly, it’s not. But it sounds more like an issue for the police, not us. “J, what are we supposed to do about it? The police are more equipped.”

“Ah, about that. After she left the voicemail, she also called the police.”

Of course.

“And they said they couldn’t do anything unless the stalker were to do something illegal or harmful towards her.”

“What the–”

Jason raised his hand and silenced me. Fuck, I hate when he does that.

“I know. It’s stupid. She could be harmed or killed by this person in the amount of time it would take for the police to take action. That’s how it is here, you know that. That’s why we’re her only options now.”

He was right. Of course, he was. Even if it was hell to admit. The tension of my last week of work protecting that ass of a CEO had really done a number on me. Now I had to babysit some chick? Stalking cases like these could last months. Fuck, even years. I couldn’t last that long. What real danger could there be if she had a bodyguard watching over her? Did this woman seriously need an entire team, especially at our level, to follow her every move because of one sick ass man?

What kind of man would I be if I allowed someone in desperate need to continue to live terrified of every move she made. Of every smile she gave. If they were the one that was watched her, or if they would make a move.

Memories of another life, a younger me, a soldier, flashed by as I closed my eyes. No.

Not today.

Breathe. In. Out.

There we go.

It took a minute for my heart to slow its beat and my chest to unclench. Before I could look at Jason again, and know that I wasn’t going to be able to leave without making sure that the client was at least safe.

“I’ll go with the team to interview her and do the check-in.” My voice is a croak as the tension in my muscles refuse to relax. My past was still on the verge of my mind, clawing at my walls.

Jason sighed and bestowed me with a large grin. His signature. “Fantastic. I knew I could count on you.” He slapped the file into my hand. “I promise, once this is over, you can be done.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Like hell did I believe him on that one.

“Gunner and Vin are outside fillin’ up. They’re ready when you are.”

“Good.”

I knew stalking cases could get ugly quickly, but we’d know for sure when we executed the interview how dangerous this one really was. It would be a quick chat with a woman that wrote smut for a living. In a room filled with three muscular men. It would be great.

But boy was I wrong.

I was expecting a sly fox, ready to use her words and put them into action, not a doe-eyed, plump beauty that could rip my heart from my chest and bring me to me knees with a simple, shy smile.

As soon as Genevieve Blake opened her hotel room door, I knew I was a goner...