Guarding Him Read online

  Guarding Him

  K.A.W Protection Agency - Book 1

  Kori David

  CoKeA, LLC

  Guarding Him

  By: Kori David

  This is an original publication of CoKeA, LLC.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. CoKeA, LLC or the author, does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2020 by Kori David

  ISBN 978-1-7346497-0-3

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contact [email protected] for permission.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  www.KoriDavid.com

  Created with Vellum

  To my dearest friend and confidante, Cherisse Hurley-Catlin. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without our talks. You are my constant cheerleader and best friend. You lift me up when I am feeling low and keep me sane when I need it. You are also a badass, just like the character in this book, and don’t forget it! Thank you for always being there.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  About the Author

  Also by Kori David

  Chapter 1

  Miriam Jones didn’t want to die, but the threat implied that something would happen to her beautiful grandbabies or that she herself would suffer—IF—she didn’t do what she was told.

  Dialing her phone one more time, she reached the voicemail for her daughter. That was normal, as her daughter was a nurse and rarely had her cell turned on during the day. But this wasn’t a conversation for the hospital phone line. The recorded line. Nor could she call the babysitter and alarm her.

  No, the best thing she could do was follow the directions, deliver the package, and then go scoop up her grandbabies before turning herself in to her boss, Ian. The fact that she wanted to throw up and hide under her desk made getting up and acting quasi-normal almost impossible.

  It wasn’t unusual for Miriam to come and go on errands for Ian—so when she stepped off the elevator, she waved at the receptionist and the security guards and walked steadily to her car. She might as well have had a blinking neon sign above her head that flashed “guilty”—instead of a small thumb drive with schematics saved to it. The fact that it was in her bra was probably melodramatic, but somehow it felt safer there.

  She sat in her trusty old Honda for a while before getting up the nerve to start the car. She just wanted this to end. Miriam was too old for blackmail—it was going to give her a heart attack. Pulling out of the lot, she drove slowly as she white-knuckled the steering wheel. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. She felt watched—hunted.

  It should have been dark and stormy, with fog rolling through the streets—a dark day for dark deeds. Instead, it was sunny and breezy, a beautiful San Francisco day and not even a lot of traffic as she wound through the streets. Classic old buildings that were almost Neolithic compared to the contemporary concrete and glass of her own building usually enthralled her. The vibrant greens of the native plants made it look like one big diorama that an architect might have made for a presentation. None of it made an impression as she drove.

  Picking up speed, she headed to the Bay Bridge toward Oakland. Miriam tapped the brake as a car swerved in front of her, but nothing happened. She pressed harder, hearing a thud as the pedal went all the way to the floor. Her breath hitched as she stomped her foot in a vain attempt to unstick the brake. The city began to whiz by in a kaleidoscope of color as the little Honda went faster and faster, downhill.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, “help me.”

  Miriam made it to the bridge, swerving wildly to avoid rear-ending anyone. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, feeling as if it were going to burst free, and all she could do was pray. And then she saw the bus. She’d been honking to warn other drivers, and now kids were plastered against the back of the upcoming school bus, staring wide-eyed as she sped toward them. Maybe they were a team heading to a game, or maybe they were just going on a field trip, but they watched each other in horror.

  Boxed in, there was no place for her to go. It was either slam into the back of the bus or swerve into the minivan with two car seats filled with babies. With nowhere else to go, Miriam started praying out loud before yanking the steering wheel hard to the left, a mere moment before hitting the back of the bus—right into the wall that separated her lane from oncoming traffic.

  The airbag deployed, slamming into her with the force of a Mack truck. Her head hit the driver’s side window and bounced off as her car continued to slide against the retaining wall. It was too much. The worry, the wreck, and the pain overwhelmed her, and her last thought was that she was going to die, and no one would ever know why.

  * * *

  “Hell, no. And that’s final,” Ian Jamison said.

  The glare and snarl that worked so well on everyone else never even fazed his sister. He even had the high ground, half sitting on the corner of his immense mahogany desk, while she sat in one of the plush chairs in front.

  “Listen closely, baby brother,” she said. “This is the Secretary of Defense we’re talking about, and if they want a purple fucking dinosaur dancing in the corner of this office while you work, then that’s what you’ll do.”

  Isobel Jamison was a regular ball-buster in the boardroom. It was a trait Ian admired, but right now, she was a pain in the ass. She never even raised her voice.

  “You’re fired.”

  “Fine,” she replied, taking a bored look at her newly painted fingernails. “I’ll have all my files transferred to your computer by the end of the day, and you can deal with the Senate Arms Committee. I’m overdue for a massage anyway.”

  Ian knew defeat when he saw it. He was thoroughly beaten. They both knew that he’d rather chew off his own hand than have it shackled to the day-to-day running of his company. But he didn’t have to give in gracefully.

  “I don’t want some thick-necked former jock with no brains lurking around with a barely concealed hand cannon. It’ll scare everyone to death, and this contract will never get done.”

  To her credit, his sister didn’t gloat. She didn’t even smile, just nodded, and marked something on her list. “Got it. Now on to Miriam. I already sent flowers to her hospital room, and I’m having a mechanic look over her car.”

  “I thought it was totaled?”

  “The car is toast, and I’ve already started a claim for her, but what concerns me is that she was speeding out of control when she hit the center divider on the freeway. We both know she’s a safe driver and doesn’t have so much as a parking ticket, much less a history of speeding.”

  Ian cocked his head to the side, considering the underlying implications. “You think her car was tampered with.”

 
; Isobel nodded. “I do, hence the second opinion.” She held up her index finger. “Miriam is almost fanatical about safety, especially since she became a grandmother.” Another finger went up. “She’s been your administrative assistant since the beginning and has access to all of your files.” A third finger joined the other two. “She wasn’t acting herself this last week. That adds up in my mind. Plus, the recent influx of threats we’ve received.”

  “Is that why you’re forcing this bodyguard issue because you think someone is after the plans?”

  “I’m not forcing anything. It’s already part of the contract once you reach the testing stage; you knew that. If it comes back that Miriam’s car was actually tampered with, then we have a bigger problem than corporate espionage. What you’re working on will breathe new life into the Star Wars Missile Defense system that’s been floundering for the last twelve years. That’s a big deal. Our government wants those plans, and that means that everyone else will want a piece of it. If they can get their hands on it.”

  “We’re in a secured facility, and you’ve increased the security staff.” Ian slid off the desk to pace. “Besides, I can take care of myself.” He stopped and frowned down at his sister.

  “I know you can,” she said. “But, if someone goes after you, it’s going to be with guns, not martial arts. Besides, you flat out refused to move into the government lab, so that means someone ‘round the clock keeping an eye on you and the design plans.”

  Ian narrowed his eyes. “No.”

  “It’s already a done deal. Your personal protection will arrive later today to fill in for Miriam and will be with you twenty-four-seven until this contract is done. I sent Millie to your house to spruce up and stock the fridge.”

  Ian sighed and turned away, moving around the desk to his chair. The leather scent that normally soothed didn’t make a dent in his agitation. He wanted to kick something because he’d hoped the bodyguard part of the contract wouldn’t be necessary.

  “I never had any say in this, did I?”

  She finally smiled, and he could see the lines of strain around her eyes. At thirty-five, she was considered a very young CFO/CEO, but she was amazing at her job. But he could see the toll it took. He stifled the frustrated sigh. “Don’t worry, Izzy, I’ll adjust. We did sign the contract after all.”

  “I do worry about you. And we’re both worried about Miriam, so don’t try to con me. We’re both going on too little sleep from being at the hospital last night, so all I ask is that you be civil to the guy.” That was all the weakness she was prepared to show to her little brother. She rose gracefully, tucked her clipboard under her arm, and turned to leave his office. “His name is Nick Montgomery, from the K.A.W. Protection Agency. The man himself should arrive at three this afternoon.”

  “Fine,” he said. “Make sure he has a tux for the charity dinner tonight.”

  Once his sister left the room, Ian moved to his window. This contract would put his company at the forefront of software design as well as electronics with military applications. He knew he had to play ball, but he didn’t have to like it.

  And he’d make damn sure his personal security guard earned every cent of his pay.

  * * *

  “Well, this is going to be interesting,” Isobel said. She couldn’t help the smirk that snuck out.

  “What’s that?”

  Spinning her desktop monitor around, she pointed at the enlarged picture. The bored question had come from her eldest brother, Evan. At age forty, he was ten years older than their genius little brother, and in charge of all the marketing at Jamison Electronics.

  Sitting forward, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Who is that?”

  Propping her chin in hand, Isobel saw the interest. “That’s Ian’s new assistant.”

  “Is that right?” he muttered, eyes still glued to the screen. “I’d planned a trip this weekend, but maybe I’ll hang around. Just to see what happens.”

  Turning the monitor back around, Isobel continued to scan the file. “I just wanted you aware of the change since there’s going to be some speculation in the office.”

  He nodded and stood. “I’ll keep my ears open and quash any rumors that get started. In the meantime, I’ve got a meeting to get to across town. See you at the dinner tonight.”

  “You aren’t bringing another brainless twit with humongous breasts, are you?”

  He winked over his shoulder. “This one’s a Harvard grad, I promise.”

  When he left, Isobel shook her head. Evan was a womanizer, and his tastes ran toward bimbo. The more gullible, the better, as far as he was concerned. It was a good thing their parents had given up on him ever settling down because it was clear that he didn’t have the emotional capacity for a long-term relationship.

  Turning her attention back to the file, she read it thoroughly. She’d been granted access to a secured server for exactly ten minutes. The only thing on it was this one file, with no option to print or save it in any way. She could write out some notes, but she had a photographic memory—something no one besides her family knew about. It came in handy in moments like these.

  She hadn’t told Evan that Nic Montgomery was actually a bodyguard. Only Isobel and Ian knew the exact terms of the contract, and she intended to keep it that way. Evan had his role in the company, but he wasn’t always discreet.

  She began some research on the company supplying the bodyguard. The Arms Committee hadn’t told them who they’d be working with as an extra caution until the time came. The K.A.W Protection Agency—she assumed the name was derived from the owner, Kei Whyte. They had a website, professional and polished, but not overly informative for someone looking deeper. They offered all manner of protection services, from corporate down to personal, but nothing was said about government work or top-secret clearances. Both of which they were known for if you knew who to ask.

  Picking up her phone, she started another list. Lists kept her sane when worry threatened to overwhelm her, and she wanted a couple of things on this list completed before the new bodyguard arrived. There was no way she was missing a moment of that introduction.

  * * *

  “This is a bullshit assignment, and you know it,” Nicolette, “Nic,” Montgomery said, tossing the file on the desk.

  “It’s no such thing,” Kei said. “You’re perfectly suited to this assignment due to your background and IQ. You’ll be able to see things that some of my other operatives might not, as well as understand the inferences.”

  Nic narrowed her eyes. The woman sitting calmly behind her desk had the face of an angel, and the ability to kill a man twice her size before he even realized he was in danger. Right now, that face was blank, and her eyes were steady. Nic had only seen Kei Whyte lose her temper once in the years that she’d been employed, and it was in the top three scariest things she’d ever seen.

  Not that Kei was even close to being mad, but if Nic pushed, it could get ugly. Instead, she sat back in her chair and tried not to wince as her right shoulder made contact with the cushion a little harder than she’d anticipated. But, of course, Kei had seen it.

  “This should be an easy assignment that will allow you the time you need to heal fully.”

  “I am fully healed, and I passed the physical.” So what if it had taken almost everything she had to get through it. She was better now, and she wanted a challenge. She was the top earner, and she needed to be active.

  Kei inclined her head, “You did pass, but it was not even close to your best time. I’m only giving you this job because the possible threat is negligible. I need your eyes and focus to make sure this contract goes through to production and gets into the hands of General Atkinson with no mishaps.”

  “What about Lindsay? She’s smart and more than capable of doing this job.”

  Kei tapped her index finger on her desk twice, her only sign of growing agitation. “My decision stands. Either take the job or go back home. This is not a debate.”

  Not
anymore. Nic stood slowly and nodded once. Taking the file from the desk where it had rested between them, she turned toward the door. No way in hell she was going home. Those walls were choking her—killing her with boredom.

  Closing the door behind her, Nic let the angry façade drop. The only one in the room was Lindsay Clarke, who’d popped up like a prairie dog as soon as the door opened. One look at her expression, and Lindsay’s face fell.

  “No go?”

  “Nope. She wants me on this one, or I get to go back home. And I have the feeling if I buck her on this, home would be a permanent assignment.”

  Lindsay rolled her eyes. “She’s never going to let me out of this office.”

  “Sorry, kiddo. I tried to get you this assignment, but you know how she is.” She headed toward her office desk, saying, “It’s Friday, and you have the weekend. Go have some fun with your friends.”

  Wrinkling her nose, Lindsay said, “I don’t want a party; I want this assignment.”

  Nic sympathized, but Kei was right in keeping the kid at a desk. It was a grudging admission, but she was young, and while she had some Army Reserve training, she wasn’t exactly a trained killer.

  Unlike the rest of them.

  There was something so fresh about Lindsay like she’d never seen anything bad in her life. Why she wanted to be a part of this motley group, Nic couldn’t guess, but she’d been begging for an assignment for months. Babysitting the genius software designer would have been a perfect first job, but Kei never budged once a decision was made. Her bluster in the office had been about giving Lindsay a chance, but she was happy enough to have an assignment. Any assignment.