The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(9)
Which meant she’d be out on the streets.
She did her best to reassure herself with the idea that anything was better than being back in the clutches of the Aguilers, but the fact of the matter was that Juliet was terrified. She hadn’t been on her own for almost a decade. How the hell was she supposed to live? When she asked the hospital staff for materials, she was told she’d be welcome to use the library down the street.
After she was discharged.
Juliet couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so helpless.
By the day she was meant to leave the hospital, she was tired of talking to people and telling them she had nowhere to go and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a proper meal. Her nerves were shot and she was beginning to wonder if this, indeed, was what she had really wanted.
Her brooding was interrupted by a succinct knock on the door. “Come in.” By now, the answer was automatic. Even if she wasn’t in the mood for company, Juliet knew the visitors would come anyway. She’d been interrogated enough that she could probably answer the questions in her sleep - if she slept, that was.
Juliet expected another cop or perhaps even the nurse with her discharge papers. What she didn’t expect was an important-looking middle aged man in a suit along with an individual who certainly didn’t look like he belonged in her hospital room.
Juliet had spent the last third of her life around people who made a living looking tough. She had learned that, most of the time, these men weren’t as formidable as they seemed. Instead, they preyed on lesser people to make themselves feel larger. It was as disgusting as it was hard to watch, and she had learned, best she could, to cast a blind eye on the violence that had permeated her day to day activities. The man before her didn’t look tough.
Instead, invulnerability seemed to emanate from him in waves. He was a few inches over six feet tall, with dark hair buzzed close to his head and a face that was a bit too angular to be truly handsome. That said, Juliet found herself drawn to his hard features and piercing gray eyes. A thin, white scar bisected one of them, zigzagging down over his cheek and jaw to disappear beneath the collar of the plain white t-shirt he wore. A battered leather jacket hugged his muscular form, along with jeans that looked to have been washed to within an inch of their lives and boots that had certainly seen better days. The man was, in fact, the polar opposite of his fastidiously dressed companion - though Juliet had to admit that neither of them seemed terribly friendly.
“Juliet Brown?” The elder man stepped forward, holding out his hand to her. “I’m Gerald Simmons, I work for the FBI. Sorry to disturb you, but we just need a moment of your time.” He gestured to the man at his side as Juliet lay her hand in his surprisingly strong grip. “This is my associate, Hank Compton. He’s an agent that frequently works with our department.” Hank didn’t shake her hand. In fact, he looked at her as if she were a particularly nasty fungus he might have acquired on the heel of his boot.
After releasing her hand, Agent Simmons settled politely at the foot of the bed. Agent Compton, however, remained standing, despite the presence of an extra chair. Juliet sensed that she made him wary, which was perfectly fine as he made her nervous as hell; no mean feat, considering how on edge she’d been lately. “We’ve read a lot of the reports you’ve given to the authorities in the past week about the Aguilers, Juliet. We’d like to help you.”
Despite herself, Juliet felt her heart leap. Help. They were the first people she’d heard use that particular word since she’d been admitted to the hospital.
But she was far from trusting. The moment Simmons had mentioned the FBI, Juliet had known that she might be in a world of trouble. Certainly, she hadn’t killed or harmed anyone in her time with Solomon, but, in many ways, she was guilty by default. She had done nothing to intervene in the violence the Aguilers had perpetrated.
Not that there was anything that she could have done without losing her own life in the process. “Agent Simmons,” she swallowed thickly, looking from him to the stolid, silent man standing behind him and back again, “I’ve talked to a lot of cops in the past few days, but I don’t think any of them have actually heard me. If you really want to help me, I have to ask you to listen to me first.”
Simmons looked over her, his gaze both mild and interested all at once. “I think that’s perfectly fair.”
Juliet could have kissed him. Though she had missed her family and independence these past long eight years, what she had missed the most were simple kindnesses. No one had ever really listened to her. “I realize what my being by Solomon’s side means. I watched him do horrible...horrible things.” At the very memory her stomach clenched and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to have a panic attack. This might be the only chance she had to secure her future. “But never, not once was I party to any of those things. Truth be told, I’ve wanted to get away for a long, long time.” She looked him directly in the eye, her tone deceptively calm. “I’d rather die than go back to that man, so I’m sure you can understand when I say I’m willing to do whatever you need - cooperate in whatever way you deem fit. All I’m asking for is protection.”
She didn’t want to prattle and Juliet was in no mood to divulge a sob story. She just wanted security, and if these men were willing to provide it, she would go along with anything they said.