Page 15
Story: Fiery Romance
Turning, I motion to her.
She pops her ear buds out. “Yes, daddy?”
“I’m going to run outside real quick. I’m keeping the doors locked. Make sure you stay in the car.”
“Mm-hm,” she says distractedly.
I need more than that.
“Regan Renae Bolton, did you hear me? Stay in the car. Daddy’s going to do some… saving. ”
“Okay, daddy,” she says in an impatient tone. As ifI’mthe one who’s inconveniencing her. She quickly goes back to watching her tablet.
A flicker of a grin tugs at my lips, but I beat it back.
Go time.
Climbing out of the car, I wait to hear the locks click into place and then touch the gun holstered at my side. It’s a 1911 Colt. Powerful. Accurate. Small enough to conceal and strong enough to do proper damage.
‘I’ve got a nine-milli that I keep right under this counter for pushy, dictatorial, clunk-butts like you’.The memory of the salon owner threatening me when I first walked into her shop expands in my head.
I stop and shake the vision loose.
Why the hell do I keep thinking of her?
Static sounds in my ears again. The team leader speaks low and urgent, “Everyone’s in position, boss.”
“Move the VIP on my say-so.”
“Got it.”
I glance over my shoulder and, through the windshield, catch Regan sitting in her car seat. I’m still uneasy about this, but I promise myself that it’s the first and last time I leave her in the car while on duty.
My shoes hit the concrete.
Something doesn’t feel right, but it can’t be the gig. I’ve got everything in hand.
I look back at our car again.
My instincts won’t shut up. Something keeps telling me I’m making the wrong play.
Dammit.
I don’t ever want to feel like this again. No more taking Regan for ride-alongs.
And for the love of Colt Revolvers, I need to find a nanny.
I draw closer to the newbies. They’re all dressed in black jackets, pressed black pants, and have wire tapes in their ears.
They nod when I get close.
Rather than speak, I simply motion with two of my fingers.
They file after me and we surround the VIP’s tinted luxury vehicle. One of the newbies slides the door aside. I keep my eyes peeled on the horizon. Threats don’t always come in the directions we expect them to and we can never be too careful.
The street is relatively empty, which is why we chose this route. Most people think executive protection is about being brawny and strong, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. My team and I were out, scouting the best routes, a week before this operation. Safety is all about prevention. Fighting is the last and most unwanted recourse.
But sometimes fighting is what needs to be done.
She pops her ear buds out. “Yes, daddy?”
“I’m going to run outside real quick. I’m keeping the doors locked. Make sure you stay in the car.”
“Mm-hm,” she says distractedly.
I need more than that.
“Regan Renae Bolton, did you hear me? Stay in the car. Daddy’s going to do some… saving. ”
“Okay, daddy,” she says in an impatient tone. As ifI’mthe one who’s inconveniencing her. She quickly goes back to watching her tablet.
A flicker of a grin tugs at my lips, but I beat it back.
Go time.
Climbing out of the car, I wait to hear the locks click into place and then touch the gun holstered at my side. It’s a 1911 Colt. Powerful. Accurate. Small enough to conceal and strong enough to do proper damage.
‘I’ve got a nine-milli that I keep right under this counter for pushy, dictatorial, clunk-butts like you’.The memory of the salon owner threatening me when I first walked into her shop expands in my head.
I stop and shake the vision loose.
Why the hell do I keep thinking of her?
Static sounds in my ears again. The team leader speaks low and urgent, “Everyone’s in position, boss.”
“Move the VIP on my say-so.”
“Got it.”
I glance over my shoulder and, through the windshield, catch Regan sitting in her car seat. I’m still uneasy about this, but I promise myself that it’s the first and last time I leave her in the car while on duty.
My shoes hit the concrete.
Something doesn’t feel right, but it can’t be the gig. I’ve got everything in hand.
I look back at our car again.
My instincts won’t shut up. Something keeps telling me I’m making the wrong play.
Dammit.
I don’t ever want to feel like this again. No more taking Regan for ride-alongs.
And for the love of Colt Revolvers, I need to find a nanny.
I draw closer to the newbies. They’re all dressed in black jackets, pressed black pants, and have wire tapes in their ears.
They nod when I get close.
Rather than speak, I simply motion with two of my fingers.
They file after me and we surround the VIP’s tinted luxury vehicle. One of the newbies slides the door aside. I keep my eyes peeled on the horizon. Threats don’t always come in the directions we expect them to and we can never be too careful.
The street is relatively empty, which is why we chose this route. Most people think executive protection is about being brawny and strong, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. My team and I were out, scouting the best routes, a week before this operation. Safety is all about prevention. Fighting is the last and most unwanted recourse.
But sometimes fighting is what needs to be done.
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