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PART VIII

MARK

The venue in Seattle was a security nightmare. More than one time while they were touring the space did Mark offer a few curses to Mr. Blackwood in absentia.

Julian stopped at the edge of the stage and swept the room with his gaze. "Why do I feel like this whole thing is going to blow up in our faces?"

Mark gave him a look before going back to his clipboard with a shake of his head.

"Our job is to keep that from happening."

Stepping up beside him, Julian looked over his shoulder.

"Too many dark corners. Too many blocked sight lines. This is an old power station of some sort?"

Mark nodded. "Antiquated. The local government built a new modern building with a state-of-the-art system almost ten years ago and they left this building as is."

Julian reached out and ran his fingers over one of the metal surfaces, grimacing before he lifted his fingers to stare at the smudges across his fingertips. "I would have thought they'd do more cleaning before using it as a venue."

"It started out with kids having raves in here. After a while it turned into a drug den. When someone overdosed here, there was a public outcry for better security or to demolish the building."

"Why didn't they?" Julian didn't wait for a reply. "I know. We had something like this happen in my hometown. Some kind of historical society stepped in."

Mark nodded. "A few of the local families who could trace their beginnings back to the same era when it was built. They pooled their money to rehabilitate the building and now it's the 'cool' place to have an event if you want a... let me see if I can remember the ad copy... Unique location for any event where you want to create an experience so memorable that it will never be forgotten."

Julian nodded slowly before he spoke. "Memorable. The concept goes both ways."

"What do you mean?"

Julian shook his head. "Just talking out of my ass."

"That might be true." Shaking his head, Mark sighed. "But there's a bit of truth in that as well. Our job is to see that it's the good kind of memorable."

Julian kept his gaze fixed on Mark’s face.

Mark noticed it and he wasn't sure he liked it. "This means a lot to me."

“H-” Julian stopped short, likely remembering that her real name wasn’t known in the world. “Nix means a lot to you. Don't bother trying to dance around the issue, Ares. The way you look at her. When you’re near her. Even the way you speak to her-"

"That's not-"

"Maybe not to most people, but I've heard your voice strong, weak, authoritative, mellow, laughing and aching in pain. What I hear in your voice is different with her. Softer. Gentler. And I don't think it's because she's a woman. We trained with women at the camp. You didn't treat them any differently than everyone else. Nix is different to you."

"I knew her before." That just wasn't enough to explain, but he wasn't sure he should. "Before I went into the military."

"Ah." It was a simple answer. And yet it wasn't. There was a depth of understanding in Julian’s gaze and Mark let out a breath.

"So, I can count on you?"

Julian’s smile was mostly on one side of his mouth. "You could before I knew how you felt. Now that I know how much this means to you. We won't let anything stand in the way of keeping her safe. If it’s personal for you, then it’s personal for me, too."

Mark’s smile was barely there. He wouldn't allow himself to be too confident. That had never ended well for him. Confidence didn't equal competence in their world.

"Let's keep going and find the trouble places in the seating plan too. We want to keep everyone in sight of the cameras."

Julian gave him a casual salute and went off on his way to tour the far side of the room.

Turning to look at the stage, Mark saw the red X marked in tape just shy of the center of the floor.

"Downstage of Center."

That's what Heather had said.

He walked the front row from one side to another before he started back on each row back from there.

Back and forth, he tracked the closest exit. He looked for any blockage of sight lines. He looked at the angle they would have for the microphone stand that would record Heather’s performance.

Alex had picked his team for their ability to seamlessly fit into public venues. They weren't about muscle bulk or being intimidating and they had to blend in where it was possible. That would let down the guard of anyone trying to hurt their protectee.

It made sense.

But sense wasn't really on his mind.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Mark took it out while he continued to scan the room as he walked up the small flight of stairs to the stage.

"Alex?"

“Ares? How are things going on your end?"

"Going."

"I think you know that I'd like more information than that. How is Julian fitting in?"

"We've come to an understanding."

Alex almost chuckled on his end of the call. "Was there any bloodshed?"

Mark couldn’t help but smile. "No one will find evidence of it."

That earned him a sigh. "Pity."

Smiling now, Mark spoke to their leader with a great sense of candor. "I’m not sure if I should thank you."

"Really now?" Alex drew out the question and let it fade off into the ether.

"This could have gone horribly wrong."

Mark swore he could hear Alex rolling his eyes.

"I would like to say that you were right from the beginning,” Mark told him, "but I can't. At first, I wasn't sure what would happen.

"I’ve spent years becoming a soldier, so I know that I could protect her. I just didn't know if I could separate the man from the soldier.”

“Bodyguard,” Alex reminded him. “You get to be man and protector, all in one.”

“A silver tongue to go with what the ladies say is your silver fox look.” He blew out a breath. "I have more motivation now to do the job, but this assignment is certainly going to change my life."

"There’ll be time to talk about what that means later." Alex's tone was level, even. "I know you’ve got this."

“I do.” A weight fell from Mark’s shoulders. "If there's nothing more, I need to finish my inspection of the venue. Will we see you tonight?"

"Physically? No. But I’ll be watching through video feed. I have a keen appreciation for musical talent, and she has talent enough to share with the world."

The call ended and Mark found himself behind the red X on the ground and turned to look at the seating of the audience. What did she see when she stood there looking out at hundreds of people?

Did she see individual faces?

Expressions?

Or did she see rows and rows of silent silhouettes until they rose to their feet to applaud her.

Did she like to have friends in the audience when she performed?

That's where he stopped himself.

Friends?

She hadn’t told him much about her life since they’d been separated, but he knew some barebones history of that time.

It was pertinent to her protection and that had been in the history that Alex had sent to him after he knew that he was guarding Heather.

It hadn’t been a secret that her father had been involved in shady business dealings. It had been a tongue-in-cheek joke in the Hamptons that he was their own personal mob boss.

But he hadn’t been a boss. Highly placed?

Yes.

High enough that he was the target of both enemies and the government?

Absolutely.

On the night that she’d disappeared from his life, Heather and her father had nearly been killed.

He understood why she protected her identity when she performed.

Her mask gave her a way to step into the spotlight but still keep herself safe.

Well, until the recent threats, but there wasn’t a reason to blame her father for that.

Having been in Witness Protection, Heather had a keen appreciation for a protective detail. And she’d also tired of it as well. She hadn’t wanted a bodyguard when he’d arrived, but now she wasn’t trying to push him away anymore.

Not that it would work if she did.

Then again, she seemed to appreciate having him close. He knew that he loved every minute with her.

She didn’t have to go it alone like she had been. The shoe, as his grandmother used to say, was now on the other foot.

Heather had him.

He'd be her friend. Her support. Her lover.

And if she wanted later, her husband.

It wasn’t the time to tell her what he was planning.

When he did it, he wanted to have a ring in hand.

Julian stepped up to the edge of the stage and caught Mark’s eye.

"We have a few places that need watching tonight. We can place plants and other obstacles to block access that will turn heads if people try to move around or break through those barriers."

“Good job.” Mark nodded and felt a strange need to get back to the house. He’d left Heather in the capable hands of Gunny and Badger at their borrowed safe house.

Then again, he didn’t want to think about their hands being anywhere near her.

Yeah, he really needed to talk to Alex after they’d eliminated the threat to Heather’s life.

"Let's get back to the house.”

“Eager much?” Julian nodded with a knowing grin.

“Mind your damn business.” Mark’s cutting remark lost its edge with a smile.

HEATHER

When the door opened, Heather turned, laying her arm across the back of the couch. She was still laughing when Mark and Julian walked through the doors.

“Hey, guys!”

“Hey, gorgeous.” Mark leaned over and gave her a pulse raising kiss. “Having fun?”

Before he could pull back, she wrapped her arm around his neck and brought him back for another kiss. He stiffened at first, probably because he hadn’t expected it, but he got into it quickly enough.

She smiled when his tongue teased the seam of her lips, but she wasn’t about to get that into a kiss in front of his friends.

That’s when she let him go.

Heather expected him to come around the couch and take the seat next to her, but Mark put his hand down on the back of the sofa and basically sailed over the large piece of furniture to sit beside her.

“Poor sod.”

Heather looked over at Evander Sharpe, who was seated on the other plush leather sofa beside William Winchester.

“I love your accent.”

William elbowed the Brit and grinned at him. “I told you. The ladies love the accent.”

Evander folded his arms across his chest. “We are superior to you Yanks.”

A decorative cowhide pillow nearly smacked into Evander’s face.

Nearly, because he caught it easily as Julian found a seat on the floor, stretching out his legs. “Watch all that Yank talk, Badger. You’re outnumbered.”

“And,” Mark added in, “you’re on our side of the pond.”

Evander shook his head at the lot of them. “You’ve all been waiting to pull those phrases out, hmm?”

Mark tried to shrug it off, but William and Julian just straight out said. “Yeah.”

Evander looked at her with a sad, hang-dog expression. “You’re on my side, right?”

When she hesitated, he stood and made an elegant bow.

“My lady.”

“Oh, wow.” Heather grinned at him. “That’s… that’s kind of magical.”

When Evander reached out his hand to take hers, she didn’t even have a chance to reach out in return. Mark took her hand and drew it onto his thigh.

“Back off, Brit.”

Heather giggled and enjoyed the light feeling inside. She hadn’t laughed so much in a while. “Guys, that’s not nice. Didn’t Alex teach you guys to be nice to each other?”

William shook his head. “He told us to be refined and gentlemanly… on the job. But this,” he gestured at the palatial home they were sitting in, “is down time.”

Heather leaned against Mark’s shoulder and felt him press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I think it’s you. You know that, Mars?”

The men chuckled at her nickname for him.

“Me? What about me?”

She shrugged. “There wasn’t any back talk or warnings until you came back. So it must be you that’s causing the uptick in testosterone and posturing.”

Julian snorted a laugh and Mark leaned forward to point at him.

“Why aren’t you blaming Flash?”

Heather leaned back and gave him a knowing look.

Shaking his head, Mark sat back and sighed. “You know I have to work with these guys, right?”

“I doubt a little joking about you being a troublemaker is going to come as a shock to them.”

There was a moment of pure silence and then, just as she was rethinking her comment, all four men burst out laughing.

When they stopped, Heather smiled at the whole group. “I feel so much better having all of you here.”

William lifted his chin at Mark. “Did you hear that? She feels better with us here.”

Mark lifted up his free hand and flipped him the bird.

Evander cleared his throat. “How cultured.”

Julian copied the gesture. “How about that, Badger?”

Lifting a dark brow, Evander sighed.

That’s when Heather leaned in. “I believe the term is posh .”

William squinted at her, his lips pursed tightly. “Isn’t she a Spice Girl?”

Mark laughed hard enough that she shook along with him. “Are you a fan?”

“Posh is a Spice Girl,” Heather gave him a little nudge with her shoulder, “but it’s also a slang word meaning high class or expensive.”

Evander looked at the man sitting next to him. “How do you know the Spice Girls?”

“I’m smart?”

Evander chuckled at that. “Okay.”

Heather was having too much fun joining in on the easy banter. “I bet it’s because of your sister.”

Nodding, William sat back with a smile. “My younger sister likes girl groups.”

Mark sat up a little. “You have a sister, Gunny?”

“Gunny?” Heather narrowed a look at William. “That’s a military thing, right?”

“Marine,” Gunny agreed. “It’s what the others called me when I was a Marine. It’s a rank.”

Heather frowned slightly. “You were a Gunny? I… I don’t remember what rank that is.”

“It’s short for Gunnery Sergeant.” William provided. “I was a bit of a wild card when I joined the Marines. One of our officers made a comment that I’d never make Gunnery Sergeant. After that, the other guys in my platoon took to calling me Gunny so I’d keep going. When something was difficult or if I faltered somehow, they’d tell me to ‘Pick your feet up, Gunny.’ ‘Get up and go, Gunny.’ ‘You’ve got this, Gunny.’”

“So they took a negative and pushed you by keeping you focused.”

He nodded and the smile on his face looked a bit nostalgic. “They kept me going when things got tough.”

“I had that kind of relationship with my violin teacher, Mister Lee.”

She felt Mark relax beside her.

He tilted his head so he could see her face better. “How did you meet him?”

Heather turned a little and leaned her back against his side.

Mark dropped his arm so that he had his hand on her hip, holding her close.

“Alex introduced us.”

She saw the curious looks on the others’ faces.

“Alex Marchand?” Evander’s English accent made it sound so smooth.

“I knew him as Alex March, FBI Special Agent.” She saw the men look at each other, noting her comment. “Apparently, he knew Mister Lee from his work during the Cold War. It was very hush hush,” she explained, “but I got the feeling that Alex was the reason that Mister Lee was in the U.S.”

She let that sink in for a breath before she continued to talk.

“He was living near us in…” She licked at her suddenly dry lips. “He was living near us and working at a job far… far from music so he was glad to come in. I was a beginner so I could see him brace before I touched the bow to the strings. That lasted for a bit before I found my fingering and placement for the notes. Then we had some fun. He thought I was very American in my style, but I thought he was amazing. I think he was relieved when I started to learn faster and faster. It didn’t hurt that I knew how to work hard.” She squeezed Mark’s hand. “I didn’t have much else to do so I practiced a lot.”

Heather fell into a moment of silence before she spoke again.

“Speaking of practice,” she sat up and the men all stood when she did, Mark still holding onto her hand, “I need to get in some practice before tonight.”

Mark drew her closer and gave her a gentle kiss before letting go of her hand. “Make sure you get some rest, too.”

“Thanks, dad .”

The somber mood lifted at that, and the guys laughed.

“Go.” He lifted a hand to wave at her. “I’ll come in to check on you.”

She walked toward the conservatory in the revamped Victorian home, shaking her head. Before Mark came back into her life, she was living in homes like this, pretty much alone. Now she had a bunch of big, handsome guys, all focused on taking care of her.

Life was crazy sometimes.