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Prologue
Austin
April 1st…
“We’ve got some fresh blood,” my boss, Anders McKay, says, gaining the attention of the men and women gathered around the conference room table. It’s Monday, meaning we’re kicking off the work week with a meeting, allowing us to touch base, get or give feedback, and either finalize an assignment or receive a new one. Of course, there are always some that are missing depending on the status of their current mission. His opening statement might seem a bit morbid, but certain fields require a sense of humor others don’t. The things we’ve seen, protected our clients from, and lived through before taking this gig have shaped us into the people we’ve become.
Protectors.
And to effectively be one, we need to create distance between ourselves and those we are tasked with guarding. It’s a manner of compartmentalizing, allowing us to do our jobs without taking every case home with us because if we did that, we’d burnout fast and hard.
I’m not speaking professionally either. For some, lines become blurred, crossed, and feelings misconstrued due to the circumstances. Not that I’m speaking from personal experience, I’ve just heard stories. As for me, I’m not worried about that happening. My focus is not, nor has it ever been, on dating. Yes, I want to settle down, eventually, but now is not the time and I do not see that changing in the near future.
“Boss, you gonna fill us in?” Dante Torren, or Toro as he’s known due to his tendency to rush in like a bull, questions.
“Or does whoever guess correctly first get the detail?” Jesse jokes, which is his go to method, earning him the nickname Jester. Anders sends him a glance, and Jesse, unperturbed by his older brother’s stare, merely grins.
“Wonder how quickly I can hire and train a new team?” Anders mutters, causing all of us to chuckle. We don’t take him seriously when he mentions replacing us, which he does at least every few weeks. “Our mission is to guard Willa Franks.”
“As in, William and Ella’s kid?” Clover, and yes, you can bet your ass we’ve labeled her Lucky, asks.
“Should those names mean something to us?” I inquire. Without looking, I feel everyone’s eyes swing toward me. And yep, sure enough, when I do check, they’re all staring at me. “What?”
“Do you live under a rock?” Jesse wants to know, no hint of humor in his tone for once. “Is this an April Fool’s joke?” Then sighs, as if disappointed in what he perceives was an attempt, and pleads with me to leave the funny to him.
“They’retheecouple everyone strives to be,” Clover supplies. I scoff at that, telling her I highly doubt that. “Fine, famous ones do, but none of them have been able to match even half the longevity the Franks have.”
“Okay.”
“Still no clue, huh?” Torren asks. I shake my head no. Grabbing one of the nearby tablets, he taps a few keys and pulls up an article. I skim it, gathering enough to know they are a now retired actor and actress with numerous film credits to their names, individually and together. They’ve been married for over twenty years and have one child, a daughter. However, the writer states pictures of her have become rare as she’s gotten older, the paparazzi surprisingly honoring her parents’ wishes to give her a somewhat normal life. A testament to how well-loved they are. Not many are granted the same privilege.
I hand it back to him, then peer at Anders and ask what’s going on that we’ve been called. “Her dad contacted us after Willa herself shared some worrisome texts with him. Her initial reaction was to ignore them and block the number, but she did the smart thing by coming forward with them instead.”
“Local cops?” Clover asks.
“Informed of the correspondence and monitoring her cell with the family’s permission.”
“Content?” Jesse wants to know, all business now.
“Pictures of her at various times. At school, though not inside it, exiting the Franks’ car when they drop her off, walking to it when they pick her up, a few when she’s at the store.”
“Can she not drive herself?”
“She can and does,” he answers me, “but hasn’t for the past month. Which means the photos of her are recent.”
“Basically, they’re letting it be known that they not only are aware of where she is, but that they can get to her, too,” I say, watching the others nod in agreement as they’d had the same thought. When you literally have each other’s, and your client’s, lives in your hands, thinking alike and knowing how your co-workers will react makes for a cohesive team that can rely solely on instinct.
“How we playing this?” Glen Holmes interjects. Being new to the team, and still on his probationary period, we haven’t chosen his name yet. We need to get to know him better before deciding what moniker best suits him. Honestly, though, I’m leaning toward Sherlock. An easy option perhaps, but his mind works in a way ours doesn’t, giving him the ability to piece together the most difficult of puzzles.
As for me, I’ve been christened Angel. Why? My cohorts tease that I’m too good to be true, so I must be one. I hate lying, the exception being when I need to during an assignment, not that it sits any better with me then. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Add to the fact they know I’m saving myself formywoman not justawoman…I’ve made no qualms about it, not in the least embarrassed that I refuse to settle for someone other than my soulmate. They razzed me at first – it’s what friends do after all – but it didn’t last long, nor was it done with malice.
“Willa is currently a senior at Winfield High School.”
“Someone going in as a teacher?” Jesse asks. “None of us have the patience.”
“Sort of,” Anders replies, cutting off the laughter Jesse’s statement caused. “We’ve spoken to the principal, Mrs. Kink, and have been given approval for two of you to be on campus in an official capacity. Willa will be aware of your presence. However, we need one more guard that can get close and stay that way without arousing her suspicion.”
Understandably, and I’m sure she isn’t the only member to assume so, Clover states, “So, I guess I’m up.”
