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That’s the hard part, taking that leap of faith and trusting Tucker could understand my secret and still want me.
Forty-Seven
SNOW ANGELS TO BODYGUARDING IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE
Tucker
I’ve got amug of steaming black coffee in my hand, with my head tipped back resting against the exterior wall of the Cape Cod-style safe house, taking in the afternoon sunshine.
The soft breeze feels good on my face, and having the smell of the ocean in the air reminds me of home.
We only arrived here half an hour ago. The two-story five-bedroom home belongs to an ex-Special Forces man-mountain named Slade, who I will be meeting soon. I’ll be calling this place home for as long as it takes to keep the female safe that we transported here.
Within twenty-four hours, I went from a carefree Christmas family vacay, making snow angels in Alaska, to an armed and dangerous bodyguard, protecting a beautiful, twenty-one-year-old girl who looked like the wind could knock her over. She is that thin.
Her older biker lover, Edge, enforces for the Soulless Bastards MC and is around my age. He and his crew took off in another plane to Louisiana in the hope of luring the evil fucker who is gunning for his woman away from her where they can deal with him. And let’s not sugar coat it. Edge wants the guy dead and buried.
It’s not like I didn’t listen to Ghost, but my first encounter with Edge didn’t go smoothly. I may have ruffled the guy’s feathers unintentionally.
My bad.
Edge proceeded to drop a mini verbal bomb—painting a colorful picture in a few words explaining why I overstepped the line—pouring guilt all over my cocky behavior. It’s a wonder his female is still alive from what he spewed forth.
My protective nature fired up on all cylinders, and I promptly apologized to her for trying to make a tense situation a little less worrisome the “Tucker way.”
Edge is a growly bear, and I poked him, and he was right to bare his teeth at me. Once he got it off his chest and hollered at me for my mishap, I knew we were going to get on in the future like nails getting dragged down a chalkboard.
I’ll be able to swing him around to the Tucker Royal camp in time. I like him already. But for now, he’s not a happy camper, add in getting forced to separate from the woman he fought so hard to save—it’s enough to make any man growly.
I did my part by getting his woman out of Alaska without a hitch with my buddy Ghost, who co-piloted Raine’s private jet with me and Hazard, the Soulless Bastards MC president—playing the airline steward role. We were the three amigos. The good, the bad, the ugly. Not sure who is the ugly one. I guess it left me to shoulder the ugly because Ghost is a dark-skinned handsome badass mercenary with a deep smooth voice. Hazard, the gravelly-voiced, bearded biker who enjoys his hair tied up, gets the “bad” because we know bikers have their law.
In the short time I have known the girl, I’ve found myself quickly forming a brotherly protective bond with her. I vowed if I could help it, that no motherfucker would get past me to hurt her.
I’m now part of a small crew guarding the female around the clock. Slade is the safe house owner, an ex-Special Forces soldier (always handy to have around), and the manager of Joe’s Bar. Hazard has stayed on to assist and Phoenix, aka Sweetness. She gets that nickname from me because of her snippy, sassy attitude toward me. I left a not so remarkable lasting impression when we last met at Coyote Cooter’s when I formed part of Hudson Raine’s band for a one-night-only spontaneous mini-concert gig on Black Friday in Fort Worth, Texas. I dubbed her the nickname being the cocky bastard I was on the night. The memory of her sassy ‘tude brings forth a slow grin.
I’m looking forward to seeing her face when she realizes I’m on the same team as her. I’m sure Phoenix will be up for some verbal sparring while under the one roof.
Nothing like staying fit.
And what a small world. I won’t be telling Sweetness about Ophelia and me. That will be my secret until I am ready. I won’t be revealing anything personal to these people. This is a job.
I have to keep my head in the game, but I take a few quiet moments to hope Ophelia is having a brilliant opening day. I know she would have nailed it. When I’m off-duty, I will look at her Instagram page and keep up with her postings, but I can’t risk commenting.
Once Slade and Phoenix arrive, Hazard and I can take a break and catch some shut-eye, but for now, I sit here while our charge showers, and Hazard sets himself up in his room.
A yawn escapes me because neither of us has slept.
I might look like I’m relaxing, but I keep a sharp eye out behind my aviator sunglasses.
There is no reason the evil sonofabitch will know we are here.
But never fully trust a well-thought-out plan when an insane unpredictable bastard is on the hunt.
Forty-Eight
STUBBY HOLDER OR KOOZIE?
Ophelia
