10. Jerome

Chapter 10

Jerome

R aven looked so peaceful in the living room, legs crossed, reading a book, but we needed to face this head-on.

"Raven, we need to talk."

She sat up straighter, her eyes locking onto mine. "What's wrong?"

I paced closer, the air around us charging. "It's not just the threats we've received. I'm worried there could be hidden cameras in your home, surveillance we're not aware of."

My throat tightened as I absorbed my words, a shiver creeping down my spine. Hidden cameras. Someone might be watching her every move. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Cameras?" She echoed, anger lacing her voice now. This breach of privacy, this violation—it ignited a fury.

"Yes, and I can't shake the feeling that someone's been inside."

"Then what do we do?" Her hands clenched into fists on her lap, seeking something solid to hold onto in the midst of this uncertainty.

"That's why I'm here." I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. "I've decided to bring in a professional team to conduct a thorough security sweep of the house."

"Will that be enough?"

"Nothing will be overlooked. Every inch of your home will be scrutinized. We'll check for bugs, cameras, anything that shouldn't be here. Your safety is my responsibility, Raven. I won't rest until I'm certain you're secure."

A mix of emotions churning inside me. Fear, gratitude, and something else—something that felt dangerously like the first tendrils of trust. Maybe I was finally getting through to her.

"Okay. Do what you have to do, Jerome. Just... make sure they're discreet."

"Discretion is paramount. You have my word."

An hour later, the doorbell rang. I glanced at Raven. "Showtime!"

She trailed behind, curiosity piqued as the door swung open to reveal three figures. They stepped in, each nodding at me with the kind of respect that spoke of longstanding camaraderie and mutual esteem.

"Raven, this is Mack," I began, gesturing to a woman with cropped auburn hair and piercing green eyes. "Ex-CIA counter-surveillance."

"Ma'am." Mack's greeting was curt, her gaze sweeping the interior of the foyer with practiced ease.

"Next is Bishop," I continued, indicating a man with a wiry frame clad in black, his movements precise and economical. "Former Navy SEAL, communications and tech expert."

"Ms. Fields," Bishop acknowledged, his voice low and even.

"Lastly, we have Knox. Ex-FBI, specialized in electronic forensics."

"Hello," Knox said, offering a respectful nod.

They moved past us, their steps silent on the polished floors. I followed close behind, my eyes never leaving the team as they dispersed into the living room. They unpacked their gear methodically—black cases revealing an array of devices that looked ripped from the pages of a spy novel.

"Each room gets a full sweep," I instructed.

"Understood," they responded in unison, already fanning out to their assigned tasks.

"Will it take long?" Her voice sounded small against the backdrop of their efficiency.

"Every minute counts when your privacy is at stake. But rest assured, Raven, we'll be thorough."

"Thorough" seemed an understatement. Each movement was deliberate, each scan of a device, a silent sentinel searching for unseen threats.

"Find anything, and it's straight to me," I directed, eyes not missing a beat as I monitored their progress.

"Copy that," Bishop affirmed, his fingers dancing over a sleek gadget that hummed softly.

"Jerome..." She hesitated, caught between admiration and unease.

"Trust them," I said, reading her hesitation like a seasoned pro. "They're the best at what they do—just like you are at yours."

Mack's fingers grazed the contours of a decorative molding, her gaze sharp and scrutinous. "Clear."

"Nothing out of place here," Knox confirmed, his thermal scanner sweeping across the expanse of the wall, methodically dissecting the mundane for hidden dangers. His findings—or the lack thereof—were met with silent nods from both Mack and Bishop, who were equally engrossed in their respective tasks.

"Good." I stood by the doorway, the casual lean against the frame. My eyes never stayed still, darting from one corner to the next, trusting the team but verifying each move they made.

"Another room secure," Bishop announced. "Moving to the next."

As we walked, I watched the team move with precision, leaving no cushion unturned, no shadow unchecked. With each declaration of 'clear,' I felt something inside me unclench. I hated seeing her so uneasy.

"Your team...they're incredible."

"Only the best for you," I replied. "They understand what's at stake."

"And so do you," she said, meeting my gaze squarely. In that moment, whatever laid ahead, I wouldn't let anything happen to her. It was a strange feeling, trusting someone so completely, but with her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The methodical sound of beeping suddenly accelerated, causing everyone to pause. "Hold up, got a spike here."

"Location?"

"Master bedroom. Near the closet. I'm scanning now."

"Anything?" I couldn't help the tremor in my voice, watching as Bishop moved the scanner slowly along the wall.

"Negative," he finally breathed out. "It's a false alarm. Just some interference from the wiring. Clear."

I watched as the last of the screens blinked to black, the hum of high-tech equipment winding down like the closing notes of a suspenseful symphony. Bishop and the others removed their earpieces, their postures relaxing ever so slightly—a physical manifestation of a job well done.

"Perimeter's clear," Bishop announced, his voice no longer just a whisper in my ear but filling the quiet of the room. "No devices found."

"Living areas, bedrooms—nothing to report."

"Good work, everyone. Your thoroughness is exactly why I trust you with tasks like this," I said, voice steady yet tinged with the warmth of appreciation. The team had proven themselves once more—efficient, discreet, and unwavering in their dedication.

"Thank you, sir," Bishop responded, the respect in his tone matching the crisp salute he offered. "We're just glad we could ensure Miss Fields' safety."

"Raven has been through enough already. Having you all here has made a difference."

"Protecting is what we do best. We've got your six. Always."

As the team began to power down their equipment, I allowed myself a moment to watch Raven, who stood a short distance away. Her expressive eyes caught mine, and I read the silent gratitude there—an unspoken bond forming between protector and protected.

"Everything's secure."

"Thanks to you and your team," she replied, her voice laced with a sincerity that reached deep into the guarded recesses of my heart.

"Keeping you safe is my priority."

I watched as the team members zipped up their black tactical bags, the soft whir of equipment powering down filling the once tense room. They moved with precision, their actions coordinated and swift—a dance I had come to appreciate in my years of service.

As the last piece of gear disappeared into its case, the leader of the surveillance team tipped an imaginary hat in my direction. "We'll be on standby if you need us again."

"Appreciate it," I responded, clasping the man's hand firmly.

"Jerome?" Raven's voice pulled my attention, her presence drawing me like a beacon as the front door closed behind the departing team.

"Everything's taken care of," I assured her, watching as she wrapped her arms around herself—a gesture I was learning meant more than just a chill in the air. "The house is secure, and I'll keep it that way."