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“Slow down!” I said, poking her in the ribs. “You’ll give yourself indigestion!” She grinned at me with a mouth full of bacon and pancakes. I laughed, thinking about how she probably wouldn’t eat like that when Cruz was around. “All set for later?” I continued, taking a large sip of coffee. I closed my eyes in pleasure at the rich sweet taste of the strong brew Sue had made.
“Yeah. We just need to get lazy bones out of bed,” Olivia said, her breakfast finished. There was barely a speck of food left on her plate. “I’ll just tell her your bodyguard’s here, wearing nothing but a thong. She’ll be ready in no time!”
Sue laughed, turning her head to look over her shoulder at us. “Now, girls! He isn’t a piece of meat, remember,” she said, gesturing to Olivia with a wooden spoon.
“Well, from what Alexandra tells us, that’s exactly what he is,” Olivia said, beaming like a child at her own joke.
Sue tutted, but there was a partial smile on her face. She came over to put a big plate of pancakes in front of me, with a bottle of maple syrup. She then placed the cutlery neatly on either side of the plate and handed me a folded white napkin.
“Thanks, Sue,” I said, smiling gratefully at her. She had started working as a maid soon after my mother had passed away and had looked after me when my dad was at work when I was young. To this day, she still saw me and my friends as children and would stop at nothing to see our needs met.
“No problem, dear. Enjoy.”
Olivia chatted absently while I ate my breakfast, flicking through her phone. I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, but knew it was something about what she wanted to do in Paris—more than likely spending her dad’s money on stuff she didn’t really need.
I finished my breakfast soon after, almost as quickly as Olivia had devoured hers. “So, shall we go and wake the lazy ass?” I said before draining the last of my coffee.
Olivia jumped up excitedly and ran out of the kitchen. I followed quickly, chasing her up the stairs as she ran to the large bedroom she and Lucy were sharing.
Olivia opened the door and ran to Lucy’s bed, jumping on it without hesitation. She started shaking Lucy, who appeared to be still deeply asleep. I thought I could hear a murmured, “Get the fuck off of me!” coming from beneath the duvet.
I giggled and jumped on the bed too, pulling back the duvet. “Time to get up!” I said, poking Lucy in the face. “You need to make yourself look pretty for when our ride gets here!”
Lucy deftly pushed Olivia off of her, throwing her onto her back and slapping her in the face. “Bitch!” she said, sounding genuinely annoyed for a second. “I was dreaming about pancakes.”
Olivia and I both burst out laughing.
Cruz
I was awake early as usual. The alarm clock next to my bed showed 6.30 a.m., the green lights blinking in the gloom. My military conditioning to awake early had never faded, and I could never really sleep in past seven a.m.
I had ensured everything was ready the day before, so I had nothing to prepare on the day the trip started. The previous two nights, I’d broken my three-whiskey rule, figuring I was unlikely to get into trouble as I’d already had my share for the day with the two foolish thugs. Plus, I’d needed a couple extra to chill out, and the drinks had been free.
I’d awoken as clear-headed as ever, the adrenaline from the fight seeming to neutralize the three extra whiskies I’d had. Anyhow, it wasn’t nearly enough for me to get drunk. I had the constitution of an Ox, and a staggering tolerance for alcohol. when my wife left. I had so desperately wanted to drown myself in alcohol to cope with her leaving me, but could never manage to get successfully drunk. So eventually, I’d stopped hitting the bottle when I realized it would be a shitload cheaper to just talk to someone about it.
After ensuring my gear was all ready and double-checking the limo, I’d taken a walk down to a payphone to call my contact in Paris. Jean-Jacques, he liked to be called; I had no idea if it was his real name and didn’t care. Jean, as I called him to his annoyance, had ensured I had access to a few guns when I got to Paris. He’d told me he would leave a key in a locker at the airport gym, which would then open a safety deposit box near the hotel we were staying at. After ensuring the girls were safely checked in and having a look round the hotel, that would be my first destination.
A solid and reliable .357 snub nosed revolver, six shooter and surprisingly easy to conceal for a gun that could pop heads. And a Glock 19, reduced size and weight making it a perfect backup weapon. Plus enough ammo to take down two full crews of knuckleheads.
We just had to get there in one piece.
I’d have a gun in the limo, which I’d leave in the glove compartment. I’d told the guy I was hiring from, and he’d looked at me blankly until I handed him a fifty. Then he smiled and nodded at me.
It was the flight I was worried about though. But the chances of being jumped on there were slim; a plane would provide no room to fight and nowhere to escape to with a hostage. Moreover, th
ere would be an armed air marshal on board, maybe two. I just had to have a look at my fellow passengers and mark any I thought were suspicious. Any trouble that happened on the plane would be one-on-one, and the tight confines would work in my favor. My huge strength and speed would be unmatchable.
No, there wasn’t much to worry about until the night we got to the hotel, but I’d be armed and twice as fucking deadly. My gut feeling told me that if anything, we would be watched for a while before something happened anyway, and that it would probably be between the first and second destination. Or possibly later.
I had started to feel much better now that the day of the flight had come. All I had to do was keep Alexandra safe. Her and her friends, who probably weren’t anywhere near as hot as she was.
Chapter Seven
Cruz
Later that day, I grabbed my clothes and gear in my tattered bag, double checking the chamber in my revolver. Fully loaded. I had a combat knife hidden in my pants too. Sheathed, of course. Didn’t want any accidents happening.
I left my apartment, double locking the door in the process, and headed for the store where I’d hired the limo. Or where Alexandra’s dad had hired it, to be more precise. I’d made sure there were a couple of very expensive bottles of champagne in the fridge. Again, all courtesy of the girl’s father.
