Part I
William Carson may not have approved of him, but Charlie Grey wasn't one to back away from a challenge.
Carson was a suspicious son of a bitch, but his suspicions were well placed. Charlie couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the old soldier, but still, the man was making his life a living hell. First having him frog-marched out of Joss' ranch, then shoving him back on a plane to Southern California without a word…Charlie definitely didn't appreciate that little fiasco.
But Charlie was a resourceful bastard, and he managed to slip off the plane and had Joss meet him for a beer at the local watering hole—his treat this time—to explain.
She reluctantly agreed, and as soon as he'd laid the situation on the table, he reiterated that he was who he said he was and asked her to take a chance on him. After a short deliberating and a few sly—and damned seductive—sidelong glances, she said that she wasn't one to back away from a challenge and told him to buy her a beer.
Charlie was even more convinced that she was the woman for him, and the two proceeded to get along like a barn on fire, drinking, talking, and, after realizing the time, sharing a dinner consisting of passable bar food and cold beer. The two regretfully parted and as he drove home, Charlie once again marvelled at his good fortune in finding the perfect woman.
The next day, Joss called, asking him to join her for an impromptu mini vacation in Columbia, which, as a man and an adventure seeker, Charlie couldn't pass up. He still had a week and a half of leave left, and if he had to spend it fending off Carson's wrathful glares, Joss' presence more than made up for it in his mind, especially if there was an outside chance that he'd get to see her in a bikini on a beach in Cartajena. He grabbed a duffel and shoved some necessities in it before heading off to the airport.
This time, Joss met him, which made him smile. Apparently, she didn't want to take a chance that Carson would ship him off to Siberia rather than put him on a plane with her. She conducted him across the tarmac where a sleek new jet emblazoned with the Morgan Aviation logo awaited them.
"Why, Miss Morgan. I've never travelled in such style," he teased. Hey, it was mostly true. Military transports tended to forgo the amenities like food, in-flight movies and comfortable seats.
"Stick with me kid. We'll go places." She laughed. "Gotta take care of a little business on this trip, too. Earn, my keep. Normally I'd just take commercial, but you can't sell airplanes you won't fly yourself, so here we are." They reached the stairs leading up into the belly of the plane. "We'll have to put up with a few bodyguards, but don't worry, they're the best. We won't even know they're there."
Charlie nodded and ascended the stairs, feeling vaguely naked without his weapon. He rarely got on a plane without some form of protection, even if that meant there was something waiting for him at his destination. His desire calmed when he joined Joss and saw the three bodyguards ranged about the cabin. Two of them had the large, solid, built-like-a-brick-wall physique of professional bodyguards. He discounted Frick and Frack as useless unless one of them inserted himself bodily between Joss and the path of a bullet. But they were both armed with Glock 22s (which he suspected had rarely made it out of the impractical holsters that housed them) so at least he knew where to get a hold of a weapon if he needed one.
It was the third bodyguard who put Charlie at ease. The younger man was smaller than the other two, his build wiry and deceptively strong. He carried himself like he knew what he was doing, thought Charlie, and his opinion was confirmed when he caught a glimpse of the younger man's face.
It was Jake Stepanek of Charlie team, a young soldier he'd put through selection himself a few years ago. He was the team's rookie still, which accounted for his babysitting duty, but he wouldn't be here if Ryan didn't have confidence in him. Charlie gave the man a curt nod of recognition before taking a seat next to Joss. He took a perverse sense of satisfaction from the glare Carson shot him before settling in.
He wondered just how much pull Joss and Carson had to rate a unit member watching their backs, and asked, "So, these guys are bodyguards, huh? Where do you go to get one of those?"
"Jones and Lesansky have been with me for years. Jake here's a loaner," she said, hitching a thumb at the unit member.
"Like a mercenary?" he asked, deliberately playing dumb. He wondered if she knew what she had, or it Carson was, as he suspected, behind it all.
"Army. Some elite unit or other. Carson's got connections at the DoD. I think he threatened to stop accepting defense contracts. They practically threw people at us."
Carson rolled his eyes and Charlie let the matter quietly drop, his estimation of Joss' involvement in the company rising somewhat. It was a smart woman who not only protected her company, but herself.
When they arrived at the airport, Charlie slipped away while the group went through customs and approached Jake for the scoop. "Hey, man, how've you been?"
"Not bad," said Jake. "Better than you, I'd say. I hear you got clipped awhile back."
"Yeah," said Charlie, lifting his sling. "Bad luck."
"I'm surprised Ryan sent you out like that."
"What? No, Joss invited me."
"Oh yeah? Lucky dog. How do you know her?"
"Met her last week. Brought in a busted airplane piston for me to look at. Made me a bet, hustled some jerks, bought me a beer. The rest is history."
"Damn, you work fast."
"She's the one, buddy. I can feel it."
"Huh. Never thought I'd see the day."
"Me neither."
"A hero has fallen. But seriously man, congratulations."
"Thanks. Hey, listen. What's the story here? Carson really have that much pull with the DoD?"
"Almost. But there have been some rumblings around here. Morgan Aviation's selling new aircraft to the Columbian government to help law enforcement keep order. Needless to say every drug dealer, rebel leader and anonymous flunkie gang banger are all shittin' bricks. Miss Morgan's received a bunch of death threats, so we're being cautious. The powers that be have deemed that it's good for the Columbians to have their planes, so damned if they don't."
"Thanks for the info, man," said Charlie, giving Jake a quick nod to let him know the others were coming.
Joss and Carson approached, followed by Frick and Frack. "What are you two whispering about?" asked Joss.
"Just asking him about his job," replied Charlie. Didn't know the military rented out soldiers as bodyguards. Seems kinda boring seeing as there's a war going on."
"Protecting Joss is a full-time job that requires focus, precision and expertise. You can't be too careful in this part of the world," said Carson seriously.
"Right," said Charlie sternly fighting himself to keep from rolling his eyes. "So, ah...where to first?"
"I've got a townhouse," said Joss piling into a large van with the others. "Ugly monstrosity if you ask me, but it's comfortable enough."
The "townhouse" was a tiny-looking building sandwiched between two others, its crumbling brick facade and overgrown garden right at home with the ambiance of the area, which existed somewhere between condemned wreck and crack-house chic. Once Charlie entered the house, however, he saw the rich, cozy interior belied the outside's dilapidated appearance. "Nice digs," he said, almost unconsciously noticing all points of egress and filing them away for later. From what he saw, the place was completely defensible and allowed a rapid exit if needed.
Score one for Carson. He knew how to pick a house.