2

Christian

Will punched me square in the face and I fell backward onto the ground.

He stood over me, shaking his head. "You're distracted, Chris. What's going on with you?"

He stepped back, breathing heavily, and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Come on. Again."

I pulled myself up and ignored the throbbing on my cheek where he'd hit me. We circled each other in the ring. My fists were up and ready to block his next punch.

"That's it. Stay focused."

Will lunged forward, but I stepped to the side, deflecting his jab. "That's it."

He came at me with his left hook, but I ducked out of the way.

My mind crept back to the day Will found me stuffed inside a hotel room luggage closet, and my cheeks burned.

Then Will's right hook landed underneath my chin and I saw stars. Staggering back, I reached for the ropes behind me, but missed them and fell. My back hit the ground hard, and I groaned.

"Damn it, Chris. I should be the one with my ass on the floor."

He was right. In ten years of sparing, Will had never landed so much as a sucker punch. But in the last few months, he has hit me over and over again.

I deserved it.

I had let my brothers and my client down.

My hands dropped, and all I saw was Will's red-gloved fist before it crashed into my nose.

Crack!

Blood gushed from my nostrils and I pinched the bridge to stop most of the bleeding. Looking up at the ceiling, I wiggled until the bones aligned and then I snapped my nose back into place.

"Shit, Chris! I'm sorry, man." Will's face crumpled as he passed me a white towel. I pressed it to my face while he guided me through the ropes and to a chair on the floor.

"It's all right. I'll live."

Will shook his head. "Is this still about the Adams case? Christian, none of that was your fault. It could have happened to any of us."

But it didn't. It happened to me. Some delusional patriot kidnapped my client on my watch. I'd fucked up.

We sat in silence while Will rubbed the back of his neck. There was no one else here. We booked this boxing ring once a week exclusively for our workouts.

He sighed for the millionth time this morning, and it was starting to get on my nerves. "I'm good, Will. You can go."

He pursed his lips again, but he stood up. At the same time, my phone rang.

I knew it was mine because no one else had dogs barking as their ringtone but me. "Can you hand me my phone?" I asked Will, since he was closer to my gym bag.

Will searched through the bag and finally pulled out my phone. "It's your dad."

"My dad?"

I hadn't heard from my father in nearly a year. I saw my parents last when I visited my mom on her birthday.

"Hi, Dad."

"Christian, I have an assignment for you."

No, ‘Hi, how are you?' . Nope, not from my father. I needed to stop expecting that.

"How's it going, Dad?"

"Didn't you hear me? I said I have an assignment for you."

"I heard you. But I don't work for you, so I thought you were mistaken."

"Don't be ridiculous. I need you to meet me at The Ritz near Central Park in thirty minutes."

What the hell was he talking about? I seriously didn't work for my father . I worked with my ex-army brothers, Will, Jake, and Jager. We started this bodyguard company together after our special ops team was dismantled.

"Dad, what are you talking about? What assignment?"

His sigh vibrated through the phone's speaker, making my ear itch.

"One of my old army friends called me just now. His daughter was attacked in a coffee shop by some deranged fan. She needs protection, and he wants you. They flew in last night from L.A. just to speak with you in person."

I rubbed my forehead as I wondered how this man knew about my business, and then I realized that my father must have told him. A small smile curved my lips. This was how it always was with my father. He never told me he was proud of me, but if I read between the lines, I'd see signs of his pride.

"All right, Dad. Let me speak to Will and we'll meet you at The Ritz."

"See you then."

Will untied his man bun and shook out his hair. He was the first one to grow out his buzz cut after we returned from active duty. "What was that all about?" he asked.

My army brothers all knew my father. He was sort of a legend in the military, having been part of the team that took down Saddam Hussein.

"My father has a job for us. He wants to meet at The Ritz in thirty minutes. We better shower, dress, and head over there soon."

Rubbing a towel over his hair, Will furrowed his brow. "Why do you need me there?"

I was walking toward the change room when I stopped and looked over my shoulder. "What do you mean? You need to be there because you're the only one available for an assignment right now."

"What about you?"

I shook my head. "What about me?"

Will sighed, and he reminded me of my father. "Chris, it would be good for you to get back on that horse again, so to speak. It's been months and you still haven't let your last assignment go."

"I'm not ready yet."

"Yes, you are."

We stared at each other. My pulse racing had nothing to do with the workout and everything to do with my anxiety rising.

"I can't," I said and cleared my throat when it started to clog.

Will put his hand on my shoulder. "Yes, you can, brother. I can't stand by and quietly watch as you punish yourself. It's time for some tough love."

Will stood up straight and put a hand to his forehead. "Those are your orders, soldier." Then he saluted me.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Fine. But you don't have to pull that soldier shit with me."

Will threw his arm over my shoulder as we walked back to the showers. "It worked, didn't it?"

I shook my head, but couldn't hold back my grin. "Yeah, I guess it did."

***

The doorman at The Ritz wore a long black trench coat and black hat, despite the warm weather. As I walked in, I surveyed the lobby. Perhaps it was habit or instinct, but I never felt comfortable until I eliminated any possible threat.

Guests queued at the front desk while a group of travelers huddled near the concierge looking over a brochure. There was no one else in the lobby or the mezzanine upstairs, except for three people sitting on the couches in front of the brass elevators.

I walked toward them. My father stood as soon as he saw me approach, and his guests followed suit.

"Daryl, this is my son, Christian."

I extended my hand as soon as I reached them.

"Christian, this is Daryl Jones and his wife, Anne."

"Pleased to meet you both," I said.

I stood, waiting for my father's next words. I'd learned long ago not to sit until the host permitted it.

"Why don't we take a seat and Daryl can fill you in on the details."

I waited for Mrs. Jones to sit first before taking one of the chairs in front of them.

"Thank you for meeting us on short notice," said Daryl. He had short brown hair that was starting to recede from his forehead. But he wore a designer sweater and jeans that made him look younger than his sixty-five-plus years.

Anne, on the other hand, looked young enough to be his daughter. She was blonde and slender, the kind of skinny that probably spent too much time counting calories.

"It's no problem. I'm sorry to hear that someone hurt your daughter."

"That useless bodyguard watched it all happen," Anne snapped.

"Darlin', that's not exactly true." Turning to me, he added, "Her bodyguard was unable to disarm the man in time. It was completely unexpected, but we felt we had no choice but to fire him."

I nodded. A bodyguard should protect his client at all costs. If anything happened, like if they were kidnapped or stabbed, they should be fired. I agreed with Anne. Perhaps I should tell them about my mistake and excuse myself from the case now before something more serious happened to their daughter.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jones, I should warn you—"

Mrs. Jones cut me off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, your father has already warned us about your fees. It's not a problem."

I shot a glance at my father. He had no idea what we charged for our services. He avoided my eyes, but looked unfazed by the comment. Instead, he tapped his foot on the floor and grew impatient. I would speak to him about this later.

"That wasn't what I was going to say. A few months ago—"

My father stood up and tipped his head toward the elevators. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

He waited for me with his hands on his hips, flaring his suit jacket. I'd seen this look enough times to know I shouldn't refuse.

Turning to Mrs. Jones, I smiled. "Excuse us for a minute."

They pursed their lips but didn't object.

I followed my father a few steps away from the couches and straightened my jacket.

With one hand on his hip and the other pointing at the Jones's, he asked, "What are you doing?"

‘Protecting their daughter', I wanted to shout, but I knew he wouldn't understand. Instead, I closed my eyes and said, "Dad, I appreciate the business, but this isn't a good time right now."

"Cut the shit, Christian, all right. Will told me about your fuck up. It's time to man up and get over it."

I stumbled back, as though he'd punched me in the gut. Will, you traitor! I swore under my breath.

"I am over it," I ground out through bared teeth.

"The hell you are. Now you're the best hand-to-hand combat soldier I've seen. You can disarm a man in less than three seconds. You're the only one I'd trust on this job for Daryl's daughter. So enough of this shit and get to work."

I should have been irate with his foul language. I should have told him he could not speak to me in this way. Except, my head couldn't get past the words, ‘You're the only one I'd trust on this job'.

I inhaled sharply through the emotions building in my chest. It was the stupidest fucking thing, but to hear those words coming from my father validated me in a way that no assignment or pep talk from Will ever could.

And the worst part?

He was right.

I was the best man for this job and it was time I started to act like it.

I crossed my arms and glared at him. "What did you tell them my fee was?"

He had the good grace to blush. "Uh-I—I—" he stuttered and then rubbed his mouth.

I arched my brow.

He straightened, looked me in the eye, and said, "$50,000."

I dropped my arms and nearly shouted, "For the day?"

He shook his head as though he would never take advantage of a friend like that. "No, no, for the week."

I rolled my eyes. "And how much of that is your fee?"

He smiled. "I was hoping we could discuss that after this meeting."

I sighed. My dad knew I didn't need the money. Jager was a genius when it came to researching and choosing stocks. We had all invested with him when we returned to civilian life and made a fortune within the first year. We were still investing and profiting, but this business was our way of maintaining a purpose outside of army life. For that matter, my dad didn't need the money, either, since I paid his bills.

"Fine. We'll talk about it later."

He patted me on the shoulder and walked me back to the couches.

"Please, Mr. Machado, you have to take this job," said Anne. "Your father has told us so much about you. I know you will protect our baby."

Her emotional plea pulled at my heartstrings.

"You don't have to worry, Mrs. Jones. I'm taking the job."

Her shoulders slumped, and she nearly fell back onto the couch from relief. "Thank you."

Daryl reached across the floor and shook my hand.

"Hailey is recovering in a private hospital right now. We'll pick her up tomorrow. You can start then. Let me send you the address."

She pulled out her phone from her purse and started typing.

A few seconds later, my phone beeped with a message.

"I got it," I said after checking the screen. "But I'd like to start tonight. I want to check the security cameras, do a property search, and just familiarize myself with the house before your daughter returns."

Mrs. Jones beamed at her husband. "That sounds great! Yes, thank you." She reached inside her purse and handed me a keycard. "I'll text you the alarm code."

I nodded and accepted the key.

After Mr. and Mrs. Jones left, I turned to my father and smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"For what?" he asked, still watching them leave the hotel.

I wanted to say for believing in me, but I knew that would sound weak to my father. Instead, I said, "For the pep talk."

"Those friends of yours are too soft on you. Don't forget who you are."

I wondered who my father thought I was because, in my eyes, it changed all the time. At the moment, I was Hailey Jones's bodyguard. Someone had tried to kill her, and I was the only one that would stand in the way of them trying it again.

I had a million tasks to complete before she arrived in the morning and only one night to do it.

I called my pilot and arranged for him to fly me to Los Angeles immediately.