The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(8)

And yet, somehow, here he was.

“Fine.” He reluctantly agreed, still eying Simmons warily. The man didn’t look at all done with him, and Hank had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to this. “We work with her. Is that it?”

The elder man rounded his desk to perch on the edge, mere inches from Hank. “Not quite. You see, if this woman really is high value to Solomon, we have to put her in witness protection. Which means she’ll need a handler.” When his gaze became pointed on Hank’s, the younger man leapt to his feet.

“No. Fuck no. You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious,” Simmons returned, his expression backing him up. “You want to be on this case, it’ll help to have you as close to her as humanly possible.”

“Not a babysitter, Simmons,” Hank growled irately. “Not even qualified. Why don’t you put one of your suits on it?”

“And give them the case as well? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

And there it was. Just like that, Simmons had trapped him. It was far from the first time such a thing had happened, and, in hindsight, Hank should have seen it coming. He took a long minute to glare at Simmons, reminding himself just how much of a pain in the ass the man could be. Since day one, he and Simmons had a love-hate relationship, and Hank had to say that the man was one of the only people he found himself able to tolerate on a continual basis.

Though he was a suit, he and Hank were very similar - which meant he had the younger man’s respect. At least, most of the time.

Raking a hand through his buzzed hair, Hank gave in. “Fine. Fine.”

And there was that smug little smile again. Simmons knew him much too well for his own good. “I was hoping you’d say that.”



Just because Hank had agreed didn’t mean he was happy about it. He wasn’t and never had been a people person. Call it a consequence of being transplanted from a rough neighborhood to a pristine one. Downtown DC might have been another world to him. He knew he didn’t belong here, and if it hadn’t been for Simmons, he might never have gotten wrapped up with the government. He helped them when it suited him...and when he needed dinner on the table.

Elsewise, Hank was a loner. Things were easier that way. People who got too close to him tended to get burned.

“She’s still in the hospital.” Simmons leaned over his desk to open the top drawer and extract two more folders. “But she’s stable. Scheduled for discharge in two days. You’re going to escort her to the safehouse upstate, where you’ll be stationed for the remainder of the assignment.”

Great. Living with Aguiler’s leftovers. Hank could only begin to imagine how this was going to go. “The info in those folders should answer any questions you have. In the meantime, we’ll be commuting your vacation to the end of this assignment. I feel we’ll both rest easier that way.”

Hank didn’t return his smile. He was in this assignment for one thing and one thing alone. Until he figured out whether or not it was obtainable, he was bound to be in a foul mood.

The Aguilers had that effect on people.





Chapter 3: Misconceptions


Everything hurt.

Juliet had never known it was possible to be so sore. From the moment she first regained consciousness, there was a part of her that was convinced that she hadn’t really made it. She was dreaming, and, any moment now, she would wake up back in Solomon’s clutches.

If this entire affair was a dream, however, she supposed she wouldn’t be in so much goddamned pain.

Even though the doctors had explained to her what happened, Juliet still had a hard time looking at her injuries. She’d been shot twice, suffered a few sprains and lacerations, and a nasty bump on her head that they were watching to make sure she wasn’t concussed. All in all, she was a mess.

Though there had been several sets of police in to question her, not a single officer was able to relay what happened at the mansion. When she told them who she was, Juliet got a variety of reactions from disgust to pity. She was quite aware that almost no one knew of her existence. When she wasn’t at an event or being shown off at Solomon’s behest, she was tucked into a tiny little secret corner where no one could get to her. Juliet could only hope that she wouldn’t get plastered across the state tabloids or forced into the spotlight. That would just make it easier for Solomon to find her.

Which brought her to the next and most pressing issue: Since escaping, Juliet had developed textbook anxiety, right down to the night sweats and panic attacks. Her first night in the hospital, she’d woken up in such distress that the night nurse had come running and had to sedate her. Juliet had thought that escaping from the mansion would bring her peace.

Freedom.

Instead, she found herself looking for Solomon and his family around every corner. She saw them in every employee and guest that came into her hospital room, and found herself so nervous that she could barely eat. Though the cops assured her that she was safe, Juliet remained on edge. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had underestimated Solomon. She knew very well that unless someone had seen his dead body, he was still out there scheming. Watching and waiting.

She had been in the hospital for about a week when she was informed that she would soon be discharged. Far from making her happy, the news was enough to incite a fresh panic attack. While she’d been lying in bed recovering, Juliet had plenty of time to contemplate where she might go and what her next plan of action might be. She’d had the authorities attempt to contact members of her family only to be told that they didn’t want anything to do with her. She had no friends and no refuge.