Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn

10

Gage

I usheredher into the command room, through the back of the bedroom closet.

It was a combination panic room and control center for the security system. One wall was covered in monitors, split into small squares of video feed covering every inch of the house and property.

Savannah’s eyes widened as we stepped in. “Whoa,” she said. “You actually have a Narnia at the back of your wardrobe.”

I stepped over to the monitors.

Shit.

“Car coming up the drive,” I stated. “That’s ballsy.”

She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my muscles. My gut clenched. The urge to protect her at all costs, already so strong it was nearly overwhelming, ratcheted up even a few more notches.

“How did they find us?” she said, her voice thin and reedy with fear. “I don’t understand. You said that no one knew about this place.”

“No one does,” I confirmed.

The truth was, I wasn’t sure how men from Barlowe’s organization had found us so quickly. I was no amateur. No one had been following us. My vehicle was clear of tracking devices.

Fuck.

Was this really it? Was this really going to be the first time I’d ever fucked up on the job? Now, when the stakes were so high?

The car pulled up in front of the front door. Damn, that was even more puzzling than how they’d found the cabin in the first place. That was terrible craft. Hell, if I’d been a more ruthless operator, I could have picked them off one by one from any window.

What the fuck were they thinking? It was almost like they weren’t even professional hit men.

“Oh, fuck!” I groaned as three individuals climbed out of the car. “Are you kidding me?”

Savannah leaned around me, staring at the monitors. “Um...Gage?” she said, her voice every bit as puzzled as I felt. “Isn’t that...your parents? And your grandma?”

I stormed down the hall, building up a head of steam as I went. I recognized that my anger was taking over, and that was a dangerous thing to let happen in a professional situation.

When you made split second calls based on emotion—any emotion—rather than relying on training and intuition, that was when mistakes were made. Mistakes that could cost lives.

Of course, if my parents knew about this place, which they clearly did, mistakes had already been made. I wasn’t sure when or how, but I had already fucked up. I hadn’t recognized it while it was happening, but the fact that my mom, dad, and grandma were currently walking toward the front door of my supposedly secret cabin was all the evidence I needed to know that at some point, some way, I had screwed the pooch.

I yanked open the front door of the cabin before the three of them had made it across the porch and growled, “Get in here.”

My mother’s eyes widened and her face lit up. “Honey! I didn’t know you were going to be here! What a lovely surprise.”

My brain almost short circuited as all of the angry and disbelieving responses I wanted to spit back bounced around in my head, lighting up my synapses like a pinball machine. I settled for just repeating my growled command, but slightly slowed and more authoritative. “Get. In. Here.”

My mom put her hands out in front of her in a “what’s your problem?” gesture. She shrugged as the three of them filed into the house. “Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, in a tone that told me that she wasn’t all that sorry. “I guess we should have called first.”

I had no idea how to even respond to that. Called? How would she have even gotten the number?

But I knew there was no time to dwell on details. If I survived this ordeal with Savannah, there would be plenty of time to break down the game footage later. Back trace this monumental fucking error and find out exactly where the road had started to lead to hell. But as for right now, while we were currently in hell, I was just going to have to deal with it.

“Were you followed?” I snapped. Even as I spit the words out, I knew they were pointless. None of my hapless family had the kind of training to know if they were being followed. Not even on the street. Not even if the person were dressed head to toe in neon orange.

“Oh, Gagey, come on,” my mother said dismissively. “Now who would be interested in following us?”

I bit back the impulse to correct the nickname. I had to focus on the task at hand. “Someone who was trying to find me,” I explained, my voice tight and controlled. “In this cabin. Which is supposed to be secret.”

My father turned to my mother, mild surprise animating his normally placid face. “Marjorie, you didn’t tell me the cabin was secret. None of the times we’ve come up here.”

It was all I could do not to scream in frustration. How many fucking times had my parents decided to turn my secret fucking cabin into the site of an impromptu weekend getaway?

“Well, I didn’t know it was a secret,” my mother said defensively. “A messenger delivered a package with paperwork and a key while I was at our old place watering the plants last year. It wasn’t like it was marked ‘secret cabin.’”

My nostrils flared. “So let me get this straight,” I said, keeping my voice measured. “You broke into my home. You opened my mail. You stole a key so that you could break into my other property. Do I have that right?”

My mother shook her head. “Don’t be so dramatic. What should I have done? Let the plants die?”

“Yes,” I retorted. “That would have been fine. Especially considering that I don’t have any.”

My grandmother chimed in. “Well, he’s got your number there, Marjorie.”

My mother flushed. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about, anyway,” she protested. “Who on earth would ever follow us here? Who on earth would ever be looking for you, Gage?”

“They wouldn’t be,” Savannah’s voice filled the room as she stepped through the archway from the kitchen. “They’d be looking for me.”