4. Diego

I'd been in a lot of scary situations in my life, which came with the territory of Special Forces soldier. I'd parachuted behind enemy lines at night. I'd acquired a fugitive who was harbored by an opposing country. I'd even waded through a bull-shark-infested river in South America. I'd rather do all of those again than enter the Oval Office now. It might be dramatic, but I knew what my marching orders were before I went on those missions. Here, I had none.

"Mr. President, Sergeant Diego Garcia is here to see you, sir," the secret agent said as he opened the door in front of me.

My palms were sweaty. I quickly wiped them on my black suit pants.

Get yourself together, Diego. He's just one man…and the ruler of the entire free world.

"Yes, please bring him in," I heard the president say from the other side of the door.

Holy hell, I'm about to meet the president.

The door was opened wider, and I took a few steps forward into the room. I looked around the room in wonder. So much history took place here. Hell, even the orders I received while in the army originated here. The war I'd fought in was declared in this room.

The furniture was historic and the paintings pristine. I felt honored to see this place in person with my own two eyes. I could imagine Yates shitting himself at this opportunity. He was going to hate me if I could find a way to tell him about it. I had to imagine I could say I went for a tour of the White House or something.

The man who stood next to his desk had white hair that was short on the sides, a little longer than his ears, and a little longer on the top of his head. Even from here I could see that it was starting to thin. He was going to need to rethink his hairstyle soon.

His suit was pristine, but it always was. He had a reputation for always looking perfect. The minute something was out of place, he had it fixed. His shoes were black and as shiny as my dress shoes back home, which was impressive. It took a long time to get them shiny enough that you could see yourself in them. I doubted the president shined his own shoes; he had plenty of people on his payroll for that.

I looked up from his shoes to look him in the eyes, like any man would do when he wanted to show an authority figure he meant respect.

"Mr. President, I'm at a loss on what to do. Do we shake hands? Do I take a seat?"

Stupid, stupid!

I stuttered when I was completely overwhelmed and nervous. It hadn't happened in so long, that I thought the army had broken me of that, but apparently not.

"Yes, son, in that order," he said with a smile meant to put me at ease. He extended his hand for me to shake. I took it firmly for a quick handshake before I released it and then took a seat on the couch to the right, closest to the door. He walked around the side of the couch and sat down on the one across from me.

"Welcome to the White House, Sergeant Garcia. I assume that you found the place easily?" he asked and then cracked a smile.

"Yes, sir, it's very hard to miss. Please, just call me Diego. I'm no longer in the army," I answered as I wiped my clammy hands on my pants again.

"Yes, I recall that you left after some honorable years of service. What do you do for work now?" he asked.

Oh shit. Oh shit.

"I'm currently unemployed, sir. I used to do some tutoring and a bit of bounty work, sir. You may recall I received a medal from your office for that work. Vice President Shipe presented it to me and my friends," I answered, swallowing the frog in my throat that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Yes, your bounty work was very impressive. You and your friends brought down not one, but two separate human trafficking rings. That's the work of a hero, son." He gave me a look of pride that I hadn't been expecting. I hadn't thought much of myself as a hero. It was that kind of thinking that made a man's ego too large. But I knew I had done honorable things since leaving the military. I felt pride in my own work, but it was another thing entirely to have the President of the United States call you a hero.

"Thank you, sir. I have to say that my friends played a large part in that," I said with another dry swallow.

I swear to God, I'm going to have a heart attack right here.Where the fuck is the White House medic? They have one of those, right?

"You are very humble, Mr. Garcia, I like a humble fellow. It makes you…likable," President Hanes said with a small, easy smile that was meant to keep me disarmed.

"Thank you, sir."

I just needed him to get to the point of this meeting. I was going to drop dead soon if he didn't end the anticipation and anxiety.

"I have an opportunity for you, and it stems from your prior work, as both a soldier and bounty hunter. But first, I need to know that you took your oath to your nation very seriously. How far would you go for your country?" he asked me.

This question confused the hell out of me. Obviously pretty fucking far. Look at everything I did in the service of my country. I still had nightmares of the things that I had to do to protect my nation, and this question felt extremely loaded. Not to mention my friends and I were responsible for discovering a large-scale terrorism plot and foiling it. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do for my country.

"With all due respect, sir, you've probably already read my file. You've likely been briefed on every single mission I've ever been on, and the FBI probably has a record of me as well. I'm sure you know almost as much about me as my own mother does. I think you know the answer to that question, Mr. President. I'd die for my country, sir."

He smiled. "That's the answer I suspected I was going to get, and I'm glad I wasn't wrong. I have a proposition for you, but first let me bring you up to date on my problem."

I nodded.

"You see, there is a radical group called the Geneva Project. They've decided to send a message to the entire government. You see, they want change. They want a new world order. To simplify it, they want to be recognized on the world stage as their own political party, and they want to seize power. They want to pack the House, the Senate, the Supreme Court, and hell, even the Executive Office if they can. There isn't much they wouldn't do to get what they want," the president said solemnly.

"Yes, I think I saw something about this on the news." It wasn't making major headlines yet, but a few small media outlets had run features on this new "political party." It was explained that their name was an attempt to trick the public into thinking they meant well, by using a word that everyone associated with peace. But through their actions they'd only caused chaos.

He nodded, and his eyebrows pinched together in slight concern. "Only briefly, I'm sure. We are trying to hold the press off from releasing anything that might give these terrorists too much attention." He swallowed and looked a little regretful. "Unfortunately, they killed Senator Johnson's daughter, and that's about to hit the primetime news tonight."

If I wasn't mistaken, it looked like he was holding back tears. "Nina Johnson was a great girl—smart, pretty, and one of my daughter's best friends. We think they started with Nina to send a direct message to me."

Holy shit. That was insane. A terrorist group assassinated the daughter of a senator? I thought it was common courtesy to go after the politician but not their family. That was all kinds of fucked up. The unshed tears now made sense; this girl and his daughter were close, and he likely knew her. He might even feel responsible for her death.

Suddenly, it was clear why I was here. I was going to be asked to join the Secret Service. Did the rest of the crew get the invite? Did he want our super-sleuth skills to figure out who was in the group and behind the murder?

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. President." I was at a loss for any other words.

"Thank you, Mr. Garcia—but it's my daughter's loss more than mine. Speaking of my daughter, that brings me to the next part of this equation. There's been chatter that she is the ultimate target. Of course, they have other names they've floated out, but my daughter is too big of an opportunity for them to pass up. I have asked you here for two very specific reasons."

Holy shit.

"I want you to be my daughter's undercover bodyguard. You will moonlight as her boyfriend," he said.

I watched him intently to see if he'd start laughing. Instead, he crossed his leg over the other, leaned back on his couch, and watched me closely.

Air left my lungs in a hiss of shock.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President. I don't think I heard you correctly. You want me to be your daughter's fake boyfriend?"

"Yes, but most importantly, her bodyguard. After Nina's funeral, you will be responsible for taking Veronica into hiding. What do you say?" he asked.

"I…I don't know, sir. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever have thought that the president would ask me to fake-date his daughter. I might be in shock, sir." My hand went to my forehead where sweat collected.

"I like you, Mr. Garcia. You are humble and funny," he said with a chuckle.

I wasn't trying to be funny, but I feel like the end of a bad joke. "Thank you, sir."

"She is a tough pill to swallow. I love her dearly and would do absolutely anything to protect her, which is why I came up with this solution. The plan is to announce you as her boyfriend. We will introduce you to the media, get them interested in you, and then after that, you take her into hiding. We will take a bunch of photos before you leave and slowly leak them for weeks, so the terrorists think you both are still here in the area. In reality, you will be in hiding, making sure she stays safe." He wore a smug smile.

"I'm honored that somehow you thought of me when you brainstormed this plan, but I've got two questions for you, sir. Isn't this the job of the Secret Service? Out of all the qualified people in the country, how did you decide on me?" I asked.

"I can answer those for you, but do yourself a favor, Mr. Garcia. Don't think too hard about this. This opportunity is perfect for someone like you." He cleared his throat and looked around before he continued. "I believe we have a mole in the Secret Service. Nina Johnson should have been well protected at the event she was attending. There were plenty of agents assigned to that event—Shipe was there, after all—and yet her funeral is being planned as we speak. An agent or several must have looked the other way for that assassination to take place, and I don't plan on letting that happen again," he said firmly.

"So you think someone in the Secret Service is assisting them? What proof do you have? Could it just be that someone was incompetent or that several agents failed to recognize a threat? I don't mean to doubt you, sir—but we always play devil's advocate before we jump in head first," I said, referring to my friends.

"I appreciate your bluntness. There's been chatter for a while, but no one checked in on the threat. Usually officers trace the threats, show up on doors, and then assess the situation. Is the person actually a threat or just talking from their ass? That never happened with Nina. There was two weeks of chatter on the dark web before she was assassinated. I'm understanding of human error, but that just seems like gross negligence," he said.

He is right. That is a long time for a threat to go unchecked by the Secret Service. They had the ability to show up just about anywhere within hours.

I could understand his reluctance to rely on the Secret Service to protect his daughter after a fuck-up like that. It was one thing to trust them with his own life, but from what I'd been told, everything was different when it came to children. Not that his daughter was a child by any means; she was my age—an adult. But she was still his daughter. He was always going to do what he could to protect her. If he couldn't do that as the leader of the free world, what did that say about our country and our way of life?

"As for my decision to pick you, I closely followed the press releases regarding the trafficking rings that you and your friends brought down. I knew that one of you would be the perfect candidate to guard my daughter. The Secret Service is bound by rules, and most people aren't willing to break them. Yet you are. You broke many rules and laws to bring down some high-profile criminals, and you did so at great risk to yourselves. That's the kind of selfless and dedicated person I need. Your Special Forces training makes you one of the most qualified individuals in the world."

I tried not to blush at his praise.

"But why me specifically?"

"Out of your friends? Well, there's several reasons. You are single, four of your friends are taken, and I'm not about to trash a relationship. I'm above that. Out of the three of you left, something stuck out about you in your file. You briefly went to school with Veronica. You wouldn't be a total stranger to her. Not to mention, you also help address a PR crisis I'm having," he answered.

"You lost me. What crisis would I be fixing?" I asked.

If this is about Latino heritage…

"Well, I don't have the best reputation with the Latino community. I'm not sure exactly why that is, but they have a strong dislike for me, and that shows on the polls. I'm hoping that if my daughter's boyfriend is Hispanic, that will also kill a second bird with the same stone."

I had to concentrate on keeping my jaw closed and not letting it fall open like some shocked idiot. He was a politician, after all. I should have expected something like that. It didn't matter if it was expected or not, but it got under my skin in an instant. He would have had a much more willing participant if he'd left that bit out. My blood felt like it went through an instant-hot, and I considered saying no to him just out of spite.

"Now, that may not be what you wanted to hear, but I'm just being outright and honest. I think we can both respect each other more that way, even when we don't like the answers we get," he said.

He wasn't wrong. I'd rather be disappointed and angry in the truth than lied to. I wasn't another politician for him to play or make back door deals with. I just couldn't believe that I was specifically chosen to help sway public opinion about the First Family. I felt used, pissed, and a little gross.

Was I going to take the job? The jury was out on that. I wanted to see what the man had to offer me before I walked away. From what I remembered of Veronica, she was a spitfire. She'd be hard to handle, as her father mentioned, and I'd be in over my head. Alone. I knew better than to believe that my friends would be allowed to help.

"I do value honesty," I said simply, not answering him either way.

"As do I. What do you think of my proposal so far?" he asked.

"I'm going to stick with our theme of honesty, Mr. President. I don't like being used to make any kind of political statement. In the army, it's drilled into us not to get politically involved, aside from exercising our right to vote. Now you want me to go against that, specifically because of my heritage?" I asked.

"That was only the icing on my cake, son. The primary mission is and always will be my daughter. If I don't sway a single soul, that's too bad. If you save my daughter's life, then that's everything."

I felt the sincerity in his words. That or he deserved a fucking Oscar nomination.

"Okay, so I know the objective, but tell me about the rest. How exactly am I supposed to keep her safe? What tools are at my disposal? What compensation do I receive?" I asked, rapid-firing questions at him.

He didn't hesitate to answer, which told me he'd put a lot of thought into this; it wasn't just some half-assed scheme.

"You go off-grid anywhere of your choosing. You take a vacation, without the Secret Service, and you disappear. The tools at your disposal are whatever you have. The compensation is a hundred thousand dollars from my personal money for every six months you are guarding her. You'll get paid upfront for the first six months when you leave for the trip," he offered.

"How am I supposed to fly or go off-grid or carry one hundred thousand dollars cash with the president's daughter?" I asked.

The pay was good, too good to refuse. However, I was rethinking how much thought he'd put into this. It wasn't going to be easy taking her anywhere without being spotted.

"Don't you have friends that can assist with that kind of thing?" the president asked me.

Do I?

Could my friends make that happen? Wait, wouldn't that violate the NDA?

"I can't get their help without violating the NDA," I said, repeating my thoughts out loud.

"Sure you can, if they don't know who she is or why she's in danger," he responded quickly.

"So you would trust my friends around her?" I asked. "Even their women?" I followed up.

"Yes, I've looked at them all extensively. I know this might put a hold on the bounty-hunting stuff you guys have taken a liking to, but I will be meeting with some lobbyists to try to divert more funds into task forces to end human trafficking and find those who are missing. I hope that will suffice for now," he answered.

Yeah, that'd make Christine, Jasmine, and Abbi pretty freaking happy. "You'd have to divert a lot of money to those task forces, sir. Christine Wells, formally Christine Daniels, is rich beyond measure. If you want an endorsement from her, you're going to have to put your money where your mouth is."

He chuckled at my response.

"I'm very familiar with her and her family. I know better than to think she'd be happy with a drop in the bucket." He paused. "I am a man of my word. My early meeting tomorrow is actually with the mother of one of the children your team rescued in Vegas," he said.

Okay, I was sort of impressed. He was thorough.

"Have you told your daughter about this?" I asked.

"Yes, I have. She isn't thrilled to be living off-grid or to be hiding from the world. She did, however, state that she knew you back in the day. She didn't go into further detail, which brings me to my next point. For some God-forsaken reason, I can't control my daughter. However, you are on my payroll. Make sure you remember that if she ever tries to tempt you into anything that I wouldn't approve of," he said sternly.

"So you want us to fake-date in public before we disappear and then after that to keep our distance?" I asked.

"Precisely. I have nothing against you. I had always hoped she'd marry into another political family, but Veronica does what she wants. Marrying into a posh family—as she calls it—is not what she wants. After this is all said and done and you don't want to kill her, come talk to me then," he said.

I didn't know whether to chuckle or respond with a joke, so naturally I did neither. "Am I going to speak with her before I decide?"

"No, son, you give me that answer before you leave this room. If you agree, then I'll have Veronica come down for a formal meeting," he answered.

Holy fucking cow. Not even so much as a glance to figure out if Veronica and I would even be able to work through our past.

"What's your answer?" His face became serious. My time was up to decide. It was now or never.

This was seriously going to screw up the next year of my life, but it answered the question I had been wrestling with: what do I do next? Suddenly the answer was thrust into my lap with a nice big green bow—green for money.

Who knew how long the assignment was going to last? Months? Years? I could be looking at a lot of money by the time this was over. Not that money was ever super important to me. However, it'd be nice not to have to worry about finances as we focused on recovering more trafficking victims. It'd be nice not to have to look at Jones or Christine to pay my way.

My mind was already made up. I just hoped that it wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass later. My face was about to be plastered all over the country, in TV appearances and gossip rags. I just hoped that my life would be able to go back to normal after this was all over.

"Don't leave me hanging," the president prompted.

"I accept your offer, sir."

He smiled, and suddenly I had the overwhelming feeling I was in way over my head.