Page 1 of First Contact (Guardsmen Security)

Oslo, Norway.

Ten years ago.

Christmas Eve.

The helicopter’s rotors thundered through the crisp winter afternoon as it descended toward the financial quarter.

Leonid Bychkov leaned forward, running his thumb over a worn brass compass, watching the angular skyline grow sharper through the frost-rimmed window.

The buildings glittered in the cold light, modern monoliths of glass and steel.

Among them stood their target—the regional headquarters of Hudson Finance, a UK finance and technology giant. A company with a problem.

Leo shifted his gaze to his teammates clad in tactical black, weapons secured but ready. Their reflections ghosted across the glass as the helicopter banked.

Problem solvers.

The chopper’s skids kissed the rooftop helipad with a jolt.

Snow swirled in violent eddies, whipped into miniature storms by the downwash.

As the rotors slowed, James Rook, their leader, signaled the team to disembark.

Leo pocketed his compass and followed, ducking low under the blades as the subzero wind lashed at his face.

The scent of cinnamon apples and roasting chestnuts drifted up from the festive market below, clashing with the tension low in his gut. Just a block away, crowds wandered through the Christmas wonderland, oblivious to the unfolding crisis inside Hudson’s monolith.

Leo’s boots struck the concrete hard, the rat-a-tat echoing off the rooftop.

He fell into step behind Rook as they made for the service stairs.

Their descent was swift, boots pounding against the metal treads, breath visible in bursts of white in the unheated space.

The air was damp and smelled faintly of disinfectant.

They emerged into a lobby, worlds apart from the indifferent stairwell.

Holiday cheer was splashed across every available surface.

A towering Christmas tree, decked in gold ornaments and blinking lights, overshadowed the reception desk.

Red and green tinsel snaked along the walls, and a garish inflatable Santa grinned from a corner.

Someone had gone all-in on the festivities.

Leo let it all slide off him. If he had the time, he might visit his brothers over the holiday. But Christmas wasn’t his season. He preferred to hunker down and wait for the whole charade to pass. His teeth clenched in a dull grind. Christmas brought memories and not the good kind.

Rook’s hand on his shoulder pulled him back to the present. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good fight.”

"Another day with extra decorations," Leo muttered.

"On the plus side, tinsel makes good trip wire." Rook’s gray eyes flickered with somber amusement.

While the rest of the team fanned out across the lobby, taking up strategic positions, he and Rook moved toward the meeting room.

Inside, two men in tailored suits waited.

One, tall, with fair hair and glasses, the other heavyset, his thick neck straining against his collar.

Corporate types. Clean-cut, polished, and clearly rattled.

The thickset one adjusted his tie with nervous fingers, while the other tapped a pen against the table, the rhythmic click betraying his unease.

Leo exchanged glances with Rook. Time to solve a problem.

The men looked up as he and Rook pushed into the room.

“Alex Lund?” Rook asked.

The fair-haired man extended a bony hand. “Yes. Crisis management, Hudson Finance.”

Rook gave a sharp nod as he shook Lund’s hand. “James Rook. And this is my second, Leo Bychkov.”

Lund gestured to the thick-set man. “Joseph Tucker. CEO of Hudson Finance.”

Rook hooked one thumb in his belt and stalked to the window. Beyond the plaza, a second building loomed. He unwrapped a piece of gum, popped it in his mouth, and inclined his head at Lund. “We read the brief on the way over.”

“Excellent. We’re keen to avoid publicity and keep the situation contained.

” Lund’s pen clicking stilled. “We own this building and the one adjacent.” He gestured toward the window where Rook stood.

“As you know, armed men seized control and took hostages this afternoon during a high-stakes data migration. The hostages include some of our senior executives. They have access to sensitive corporate data tied to major UK government contracts.”

Rook grimaced. “You must have excellent security protocols.”

Lund took the hit and kept going. “We were contacted by Cameron Burke, their leader. He’s a known contractor with ties to numerous terrorist groups. Naturally, we are concerned about the hostages but?—”

“Burke’s team has breached Hudson’s encrypted servers,” Tucker blurted. “They’ve accessed Nightwatchman .”

Leo frowned. “ Nightwatchman ?”

“Highly classified.” Tucker planted both hands on the table, leaning forward.

“It’s a covert surveillance system that monitors global financial transactions for counterterrorism purposes.

If released, it wouldn’t just expose UK operations—it would compromise allied intelligence networks, defense partnerships, everything.

” His knuckles whitened against the dark wood.

“The Norwegians are letting us handle this quietly, but one wrong move...”

“Quietly?” Rook snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

Leo absorbed the implications, his mind already racing through scenarios. A system like that in the wrong hands... Christ.

“Burke wants proof of Whitehall’s commitment before he’ll discuss terms. He’s demanding a face-to-face with a British government representative.”

“We don’t work with others.” Leo kept his tone even.

Rook held up a hand, amusement playing along the lines of his mouth despite the tension. “We will, but it’ll cost extra.” His jaw worked as he added, “Consider it our playing nice with others’ fee.”

“Our primary concern is containment.” Tucker’s voice steadied, but the pulse jumping in his throat betrayed him. “This cannot leave this room.”

A phone’s shrill ring screeched.

Tucker snatched it up, his shoulders rigid as he listened. He put the phone down. “The British government representative is here. She’s on her way up?—”

“She?” The word hit Leo like a bucket of freezing water. “You’re sending in a woman?”

“Yes. Agent Landon from MI6?—”

“No.” Leo shook his head as he folded his arms across his chest. “Absolutely not. We’re not putting a woman at risk.”

“Agent Landon is highly qualified?—”

“Did I stutter?” Ice edged Leo’s words.

Rook’s grip clamped onto his elbow, yanking him away from the others. “Leo.” His voice dropped low. “I know where this is coming from. But we’re here now, and this is happening.”

Leo hissed a curse through clenched teeth.

“You good?” Rook’s grip hardened.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Rook squeezed his shoulder once before turning back to the room. “Just a misunderstanding. We’re green.”

Leo exhaled. His past pressed against his skull like a vise. Fuck . The office door swung open and despite years of training, his blood pressure spiked.

He forced a slow breath as she entered.

The tactical gear couldn’t disguise her athletic frame or the precision of her movements. Dark russet hair secured in a practical ponytail, but it was her eyes that stopped him—gray-blue and arresting. The kind that catalogued everything and gave nothing away.

Those eyes met his, held him for a beat longer than necessary, before she gave him a curt nod. All business. No hint of uncertainty or hesitation. It should have reassured him. Instead, his gut twisted tighter. Professional or not, they were about to send a woman into the fire.

Lund stepped forward. “Katerina Landon. Welcome. I’m Alex Lund. Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

Her half-smile held no warmth. “Just Kat is fine, and I’m not sure I was given much choice.”

“Yes, well…” Lund moved on. “This is Joseph Tucker, our CEO. And these gentlemen are James Rook and Leo Bychkov.”

She eyed Rook and Leo, her blue-gray gaze clinical. “Mercs?”

“Specialized consultants in crisis management. Less paperwork that way.” Rook flashed her his winning smile that sent an inexplicable spear of jealousy into Leo’s gut.

“You’ve been briefed?” Leo asked, noting how she shifted her weight—the subtle readiness. She shook his hand, her grip firm. No waver. This was a woman who could look after herself.

“On the way here,”she confirmed.

“So you are aware?” Lund arched one straggly brow. “Your role is to convince Burke that His Majesty’s government will negotiate. Buy us time to get the extraction team in place, secure the hostages and the Nightwatchman .”

“This isn’t my specialty—” For the first time, uncertainty threaded through her voice.

“Needs must.” Lund’s fingers formed a steeple on the table, the fluorescent light deepening the lines around his mouth into something harder. “But you’re what we have. That’s why Rook and his team will be your backup. You’ll keep Burke talking until the extraction team secures the Nightwatchman .”

She processed his words with barely a flicker—just a tightening around her eyes that Leo knew too well. That moment of clarity when someone sees past the corporate speak and mission parameters. When they understand what really mattered to men like Lund.

The money.

Not the hostages.

And they would feed her to the wolves to protect it.