Vanguard Security_A Military Bodyguard Romance Read online

  “Yes, sir,” I replied instinctively as I reached for my wallet. The man, Everett by his badge, nodded in recognition. A fellow soldier, for sure.

  He inspected my credentials and turned his gaze toward my Rover. “What year?”

  “’16, tag number NVY HUA.”

  The guard smiled. “Hua.” He then offered a nearly imperceptible salute and pushed a small, white button on the wall of his out building. The gate slid open cleanly, no squeak or mechanical distress noises.

  Slowly, I pulled forward, allowing the iron bars to close behind us. No turning back now. I took Ma’s hand in mine as we followed the winding driveway to the home. I couldn’t help but be impressed at the splendor. Bright green ivy wrapped around large Romanesque columns ten feet apart, circling the estate as far as I could see. On either side of the narrow road was a lush garden, escorting us to the main building. As we arrived, close enough now to see the building — castle — through the fog, I was taken aback by its elegance.

  “Downton Abbey!” Ma clasped her hands in front of her like a schoolgirl. The sight of it made me release the breath that had been caught in my chest for days.

  As I parked, two orderlies in pastel blue suits came to assist us with Ma’s things. Their scrubs looked like they were crafted from the finest silk, not the stiff canvas material I’d grown accustomed to with Ma’s many trips to Dr. Hedman’s office. Waiting atop the sloping concrete staircase was a matronly woman in a finely crafted and neat pant suit. “Right on time. I expected as much. I’m Ms. Wallace; we spoke on the phone.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, finally. The brochures don’t do this place justice, ma’am.” I extended my hand as we reached the top step.

  “Why, thank you. We do our best.” She smiled down at Ma. “And you must be Sophia.”

  “Where’s Mr. Bates?” Ma asked, looking past Ms. Wallace. “I don’t want Thomas in my room. I don’t like him.”

  I tried to explain to Ms. Wallace what Ma was talking about, but she was already responding. “Don’t worry, Thomas has taken another position in Ripon.” She gave me a knowing head nod as she escorted Ma into the foyer. Whispering, she assured me that they get this all the time. It must be the castle exterior.

  “It is breathtaking. I can see why Ma loved that show,” I agreed.

  “Yes, I started watching after about the third new resident had the same reaction. I must say, I’m now addicted. Trying to catch up.”

  After finishing the paperwork while Ma watched TV with some other residents, it was time to head up to her room. I took her arm and led the way, following behind Ms. Wallace. She was explaining the inner workings of the facility, meal times and visiting hours, but I didn’t hear much of it. I could feel Ma’s placid state slipping away. Her shoulders tensed beside me, her hand resisting my grip.

  Ms. Wallace opened the door to Ma’s room with an old-fashioned gold key, like something out of a movie. She then handed it to me. “You have full access at all times.”

  The room was filled with Ma’s things, decorated just as it had been in my condo. The orderlies must have been busy while we signed the contracts. That’s what the pictures were for.

  Ma stepped inside, still hesitant, but reassured by the decor. She eyed the room, then shuffled over to the tall dresser in the corner, opened the top drawer, and slammed it shut. She looked back at me, and then at the two orderlies standing at the door. “Where is it?”

  “Where’s what, Ma?”

  “He took it. Thomas took it!”

  “What are you talking about? Took what? It’s OK, Ma. Everything’s OK.”

  “My rosary! Thomas took my Rosary! Baxter. Where’s Baxter?”

  I looked at Ms. Wallace, confused. “She doesn’t have a rosary. I don’t know —” The spell is broken.

  “It’s probably best that we let her rest and settle in. Maybe give her a couple days to adjust before coming back to visit.” Ms. Wallace ushered me out the door to the screams of my mother telling the orderlies to go fetch this Baxter person.

  Then, as the door closed, Ma yelled, “How could you do this to me? You’ll regret this!” I knew she was talking to me, even if she didn’t.

  Back in the lobby, I fidgeted with the ornate key in my pocket, half-listening to Ms. Wallace’s attempts to placate me. I fought the urge to run upstairs and rescue Ma from her delusion, take her home and tell her this was all a mistake. Ms. Wallace handed me a thick, glossy folder with all of the contracts and important numbers stuffed inside. I turned to walk away as she was giving me the schedule for the automatic bank draft on the first of the month. When she mentioned the Hospice nurse, it was too much to bear, and I blocked her out.

  I sat in my empty car, wondering how I was going to come up with the monthly fee for this place on my pension. And how I’d survive after I no longer had to pay it.

  2

  Vanessa

  I can’t believe it’s finally over.

  Tying my hair up in a bun, I braced for the heat of the afternoon and slung my backpack over my right shoulder for the last time. It was empty now. The only class I’d had left was a lab, and nobody had showed up. Dr. Isaac had let us three die-hard students pack up early. Leaving the halls of Georgetown, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. I was already picturing myself as a respectable, middle-aged career woman coming back here for a reunion. The hardwood floors echoed my footsteps with extra reverence, as if they knew how important these last few steps were, how I’d remember them forever.

  The bright light of day assaulted my eyes, and I pulled down my shades. It’d only been a few weeks since I’d gotten Lasik, and I still forgot that I wasn’t wearing my Transition lenses anymore. A graduation present from Daddy. Speaking of Daddy, where’s that so-called bodyguard who’s not fooling anyone?

  It only took a moment to find him, two rows away from my new Audi, another present from Daddy. The idiot stood out like a sore thumb, a red-haired meat-head sitting in an old Taurus in a nearly empty parking lot. I didn’t know how he expected to blend in around here with that thing. Maybe back in Idaho or wherever Daddy had plucked this one from. I tried to remember how many secret agents Daddy had assigned to me in the past four months since my mom had died.

  The memory punched me. Four months. Just when I think I’m doing OK, I go and think about her. My therapist — forced upon me by Daddy and Ophelia, who do they think they’re fooling — said that I needed to talk about her or I would never get past it. Maybe I didn’t want to get past it, did they ever stop to think about that? Who wants to get over their own mother’s death? It wasn’t like I didn’t think about her. I thought about her all of the time. Like now. But I didn’t need some high-priced shrink to tell me how to come to terms with my feelings. I had my own form of therapy.

  I waved to the Rent-a-Cop as I started the car and tore out of the parking lot. Let’s see how fast this one can drive. I turned down Oak Street and took off before he could even get the old clunker started. Too bad. I’d been hoping for a challenge this time. I pressed the gas, just in case, needing to put some distance between me and the tail. Nobody could know where my true therapy sessions took place, not even Daddy, and especially not some stranger he’d hired to follow me around like some creep.

  Checking my rear-view mirror, I saw that he’d managed to stay close enough to see my turns. Anticipating the lights ahead of me, I slowed to a crawl, hitting the intersection just as the yellow turned red. The three cars between me and the Taurus were forced to stop. I made sure they all saw me turn right on Queens Street, then sped up to make a quick circle around the block.

  Moments later, I arrived at the small inlet, parked my car under a large tree, and carefully made my way down the river bank. I cursed myself for not changing out of my heels and took them off. Standing at the edge of the water, shoes in hand, I dipped my toes in the tepid blue stream. Peace enveloped me. This was our place.

  Mom and I used to come here all the time… before. This was where we’d
talked about getting out of the life, finding some piece of land in the middle of nowhere, and starting over. This was where she’d confided in me that she thought she was being followed. I’d blown it off as paranoia. With everything we’d been talking about, of course she was freaking out. I had assured her it was nothing.

  But now, just a few months later, this was where I had sprinkled a vial of her ashes. Daddy had wanted an elaborate funeral that would “make the Queen jealous,” but the funeral home had advised against an open casket.

  I stood there for I don’t know how long, my toes being kissed by water that contained some small part of my mom still. The chirping birds lulled me into a serene haze as I thought about all of the plans my mom and I had made. All of the things I was now stuck doing without her. My graduation was coming up in a couple weeks. I could still see the form-fitting green dress she’d picked out for the ceremony. I wondered if it was still hanging in the closet upstairs.

  Before long, the darkness in my mind clouded the serenity of our special place, and I wanted out. My t-shirt was sticking to me, and there was mud between my toes. These weren’t the sort of things that would bother me in a normal situation. My degree was in Environmental Law, for God’s sake. But here, of all places, I needed to keep the illusion of perfection alive. Perfect, like she always had been when she was alive.

  I hiked the short distance back to my car, keeping an eye out for the ugly Taurus. It was nowhere to be seen. I’d succeeded in giving him the shake. Daddy would not be happy when he heard about this, if he hadn’t already. But he shouldn’t hire third-rate goons to babysit me in the first place. What good was he if I could lose him that easily? Somebody wouldn’t be getting a severance package.

  3

  Martin

  It had been five days since I’d had to leave Ma in that nursing home. Ms. Wallace called this morning to say that she was settling in a little better now. I felt so relieved. But then the conversation turned to the Hospice schedule again, and I hurried off the call. I just wasn’t ready to deal with that yet.

  Instead, I paced my apartment, telling myself that I was going to clean up her room any day now. The rest of the place was spotless, as always. But cleaning out her room signified an end, of sorts. So I kept the door closed and picked up the newspaper for the third time. I kept expecting the perfect job to come falling out.

  The phone rang, and I answered before the first trill had finished, expecting Erica. We’d been trying to make arrangements to meet up for three days now. Instead of her southern drawl, I heard a familiar yet uninvited male voice. “Martin, is this a good time?”

  “Yes, sir, Commander Phillips.”

  “You know you don’t have to — ah, what’s the use? I’m calling to see if you’ve changed your mind. I have a case that could use your expertise.” Commander Phillips paused on the other end of the line. I really wished it had been Erica.

  “Sir, I appreciate the offer, but you know how I feel about babysitting your wealthy brats.”

  “Yes, I know, Martin. But… how’s your mom doing?” So, that’s how we’re gonna play it.

  “Cruz tell you?” I asked.

  “You know we worked in Intelligence together for ten years…” he tried.

  “Cruz,” I sighed, making sure Commander Phillips heard. “I know you mean well, and I appreciate the offer, but Ma and I will be fine.”

  “It’s a quick job, the perfect chance to get your feet wet in private security.” He didn’t let up. “Mostly just surveillance.”

  “Great, some rich guy wants to make sure his wife’s not banging her tennis instructor. No thanks.”

  I was about to hang up when he raised his voice. “I know you need the money, Martin. Let me do this for you. I know you won’t take it any other way.”

  “And I will find a way to make it on my own without having to follow some—”

  “It’s not his wife; it’s his daughter. She may be in danger.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s just no for me.” I hung up and immediately dialed Erica.

  “Don’t you ever text?” she teased.

  “Are you coming over tonight?”

  “I might have a date. I’ll let you know later.”

  “I could really use the company.”

  A moment passed. “Alright, nine?”

  “Nine.” I hung up and decided to hit the gym to kill some time.

  It was nearly ten when the doorbell rang. “I’d almost given up on you,” I said as I locked the door behind her.

  “Yeah,” she answered, removing her shoes and walking toward my room. “Ended up pulling a double. You’re gonna have to do all the work. My back’s killing me.”

  “No problem.” I pulled off my shirt, folded it, and laid it on the recliner. Then I did the same with my pants. When I entered the bedroom, she was already completely undressed, lying sprawled out on the bed. I stretched my arms over my head and twisted around to limber up.

  “You expecting a workout?” she laughed.

  “Just trying to relax,” I told her.

  She looked down at my crotch and patted the bed in front of her. “You know I’m a sucker for tightie whities.”

  “Well, that is one of your many talents.” I pulled my underwear off, and she got right to work. I threw my head back and let the warmth of her mouth take me away. Soon, I was thrusting my hips, helping her go deeper.

  She gagged and pushed me back. “Alright, I’m good.” She pulled me back toward her by my cock.

  “Turn around,” I commanded.

  “Yes, sir.” She gave a tiny salute and a mischievous grin back over her shoulder as she assumed the position.

  With one hand, I pulled her back to the edge of the bed and licked the first two fingers of the other. I glided one in and then the other. It didn’t take long before I felt her pushing back against me. “Looks like I’m not the only one who needed this.”

  She was moaning a bit now. “Yeah, sometimes I forget how long it’s been.”

  “I don’t!” I slid my fingers out, and she made a disapproving noise. But I quickly replaced them with the real deal, and we both exhaled.

  Less than ten strokes in, we were already picking up the pace. I grabbed her ample hips with both hands and pulled hard. I saw her lick her fingers and reach underneath her body. Then I felt her tighten against me as her fingers found their mark. When she lowered her head and arched her back, I knew it was time.

  She growled something that sounded like, “Now,” and I slammed into her with everything I had. I placed my hand on the small of her back and pushed her down flat to the bed. The motion created a suction effect that had me spent in seconds. We collapsed into a heap on top of the comforter.

  After we caught our breath, she grabbed around on the bed. “My underwear disappeared.”

  I rolled over and pull them from under me. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” she said, hopping up to get dressed.

  “Ha, no, thank you.”

  “Goober,” she slapped me lightly on the arm. “Some of us are meeting up at O’Malley’s this weekend. You should join us. Get out of the house for a bit.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Mmhmm,” she knew I was lying. “Want me to lock the door?”

  “Yes, please.” I got up from the bed and headed to the shower. “And really, thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” she called as she closed the bedroom door. I listened for the front door lock before turning on the water.

  In the shower, I let the hot water rinse away the last of the tension in my shoulders. Hopefully, tonight, I’ll get some sleep.

  4

  Vanessa

  I pulled into the rear parking lot of St. Patrick’s Soup Kitchen, feeling better and ready for my shift. Before entering, I looked around to make sure Daddy’s hired goon hadn’t found me. I didn’t need that type of attention brought here. It was hard enough to convince them to let me help. I locked my car and walked to the Employees Only door in th
e alley. All clear.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Genovese.” Carl, the manager, waved a spatula at me.

  “How’s business?” I asked, tying on an apron and stepping up beside him.

  “Booming as usual, unfortunately.” He frowned.

  I peeked into the restaurant area to see just how right he was. “Wow, standing room only.” I whistled.

  “Yeah, I wish Dirty Monkey’s gigs could be so lucky,” Carl huffed, playing the comment off as a joke.

  “You never know when that big break’s gonna hit. Any day now, I’m sure.” I tried to be reassuring, but I knew the odds were stacked against a meteoric rise to fame at his age. “Don’t forget us when you’re this huge rock star.”

  “Nobody could forget someone as beautiful as you, Ms. Genovese.” He stared into space, and I knew he wasn’t thinking of me. He swore I looked just like his little girl, Carolyn, who had disappeared when she was sixteen. She’d gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and run off one day instead of going to school. I was sure it was the reason he worked at three soup kitchens around D.C. He was hoping to run into her.

  I gave him an ‘aww shucks’ grin, but he was lost in his own world now. So instead, I set up shop at the salad bar and got to work. I was pleased to see they’d added raw spinach to the selection. When I’d first started here, the stuff that passed for salad was a sad assortment of wilted iceberg lettuce and squishy cherry tomatoes. Now, we were expanding our menu so much — thanks to an anonymous donation from a wealthy local businessman — that we might have to add a second counter.

  Three hours into my shift, I hadn’t had a moment’s rest. The line had been steady since the doors had opened this morning. Some of the regulars said that it curved around the building. I looked at my dwindling supplies and wondered if I needed to give that anonymous benefactor a call.