Author note: Hi ! Here is the first chapter, I hope you'll like it :) English is not my first language so I make mistake please tell me :) And I want to thank Whitehall for her sweet review, it was so nice
Just one more mission...
My steps resonate on the cobblestone.
The night begins to fall in Seattle and I hurry up as I enter the street indicated on the little piece of paper where I had scribbled the address of my appointment.
An unexpected, appointment.
An appointment that I should not even has started.
I still did not fully understand what had brought me to answer this message: I decided to take a break after my last contract… and to take the time to reacclimatize myself in Seattle.
And yet, I don't know why, I had recalled this mysterious Richard Webber.
Is it the sound of his voice almost shaking, letting me perceive a real concern?
Is it this need, stronger than me, stronger than anything, to always be in action?
I did not find the reason, but still, I ended up in Madison Park, on my way to this appointment to protect this mysterious singer, I had never heard talk of… my expatriation of several years in Europe, more precisely in France, had cut me of the American culture and its rising stars.
My eyes are on the number of the house facing me: n°862. A quick look at my piece of paper confirms me that I arrived at my destination. And the vision that greets me instantly makes me aware of one thing: it's not a beginner artist that I'm about to meet but it can only be one of the major stars of the American scene. I find myself in front of an imposing building with a staircase leading to a Greek-inspired stoop, framed by Doric columns. The house has a floor and many windows adorn the façade leaving guess a significant number of rooms… my eyes are scanning the building and I even notice on the left side a terrace that should give a beautiful view of Seattle from Madison Park. The falling evening light is immersed a mysterious and almost intimidating atmosphere around this address.
I walk the stairs one by one taking almost my time, before ending up in front of the solid wood entrance door. A look directed to the side makes me spot an intercom that I activate without waiting. I wait a few seconds before soon perceive a resonated breath through the device.
- Yes?
- Good evening, Owen Hunt for Mrs. Shepherd.
- Ok Mr. Hunt, I'm coming to open you.
I instantly recognize the voice that answers me: it's the same as the one on my phone. I put my hand on my tie to check that it is correctly placed between the two sides of my jacket against my shirt while perceiving steps closer to the door…
The doors opens in front of me in a squeak: I discovered a man in his fifties, wearing a pair of trousers and a shirt, with slightly graying temples with a smile clearly present on his face. He hands me a hand that I firmly tighten while advancing.
- Good evening Mr. Hunt, You're welcome!
- Good evening.
I walk a few steps into the entrance before returning to the host who greets me.
- I see that punctuality is one of your qualities.
- It's part of the basics of the job…
- It's nice… It's a rare commodity in our circles. Thank you in any case for having accepted this meeting. If you would like to follow me…
He walks past me and I take the opportunity to take a look around me: the decoration inside the house contrasts sharply with the external impression. A modern decoration, loft type in warm and lively colors… that let me anticipates a personality full of life and energy as to the hostess of these places. The manager enters the stairs and I'm following him silently. Arrived at the top of the steps, he walks into a room on the left, which seems to be an office, probably his office.
- Please, sit down.
I sit on the chair in front of the desk as he sits behind it.
- You have not struggled to find the address?
- No, rest assured, with a plan I know how to manage, I answer with a smile.
- Yes of course, excuse me… I'm a little nervous, to be honest, calling you was not so easy for me… and I would have preferred not to have to do it…
I feel hesitant in his first words.
- I'm curious to know how you got my details…
- A very good French friend told me about you when I told him my concern about Amelia's protection… apparently in France, you are recognized as the best…
- You know, I don't believe in that kind of concept, let alone in trades like mine…
- The best, or one of the most talented as you want, anyway when he informed me that you decided to return to the United States, I saw it a sign… and I wanted to contact you in first… and with a few calls I could have access to your number.
- I am touched by the trust that your grant me, know however that I am not yet sure to accept… I leave a difficult contract.
- I understand, but we really need you… Amelia needs you… since a few weeks, we receive threats… and they are becoming more numerous and worrying…
His gaze is lost in the void, I observe without words but I perceived a sincere concern behind his attitude… what I find quite surprising on the part of a manager, to believe that links stronger than business unite to his protected.
- What kind of threats?
- It started with pictures of Amelia we were sent… to different places, moments… shots stolen sometimes from her everyday life as if someone was following her day-to-day… and then recently, these are not just pictures… they are letters with threats that materialize.
He gets up and goes to the side to a cabinet. He opens the doors of the cabinet that hides a small safe: he types the combination and I perceive a click, announcing the opening of the object. Then, he takes out a file that he gives me. I take it with fingertips, put it on the desk and gently open it. I then discover a series of letters, built from cut words from newspapers. I look at them before I linger on one of them that I keep a little longer in my hand.
- This is the last one that has been transmitted… three days ago… the day I decided to call you.
The letter is succinct, only four lines, but it appeals to me…
"On your knees
I love you
You are ignoring me
But you'll get SOON"
The "soon" comes off in red on the letter… the message as well as the way in which the letter was made (with the care taken to use newspapers cut-off letters, without a trace of writing) make me aware that this is not a bad joke… but probably a real threat.
- On your knees returns on several letters, that has a special meaning?
- It's an Amelia's title… one of her hit…what do you think?
I put the letters down on the desk while closing the file.
- I don't know… you talked to the police?
- No… I don't want it to be published in the press…
- I have trusted contacts in special services that could be helpful…
- So, you accept?
- I didn't say that… these letters, how did you receive them?
- They arrived at the usual fan mail circuit for the first ones…but the last one came here…
- Here? At his home?
- Yes…
- And how did Mrs. Shepherd react?
He suddenly avoids my gaze, while standing upright on his side, in the office.
- Mrs. Shepherd? How did she react?
- She didn't have to react… because she didn't see these letters…
- Excuse me?
He sighs in front of me, while I don't feel I understand what he's trying to tell me.
- All the mails that arrive at her record company or here go through me… and I intercepted them before she discovered them…
- You mean she's not aware of the pictures? Letters?
- Yes… I don't want her to be disturbed by all that… she had to be completely focused on her career and her performance…
This information literally roots me on the spot and cuts short all my hesitations. I get up from my seat and extend my hand to the manager who welcomed me…
- We'll not waste time… I don't have the habit of working in these conditions… I wish you a good continuation…
I keep my hand extended to him a few seconds but not seeing him react, I decide not to stay longer and turn to leave the room.
- Mr. Hunt, wait!
I hear him behind me, but I'm continuing a few steps.
- Please…
A shaking voice echoes in the room… and I stop and then turn back again.
- Please…. I know I may not have had the best idea hiding this information… but I'm afraid that she'll be devastated…. And I don't want a madman spoiling her career, she deserves everything that happens to her, she has worked hard to be there… and no one has the right to take away from her…
- Listen, I've always had to work for people who are aware of everything that are going around them and especially the threats that affect them… I don't like to have imposed myself… or to justify my presence…
- You will not have to do it… she will accept your presence… I explained to her that she needed close protection with her status… she will not reconsider your work or you utility…
- I don't know… I'm not very comfortable with this context…these secrets…
- Do not be mistaken…It's up to me to assume that and accept the consequences… but before you decide, please allow me to introduce you to Amelia… please…
I remain undecided a few moments, still disturbed by the situation that has just been described…but this man facing me who almost begs me touches me more than he should. I was used to not react in my job, to remain impassive, but his look makes me almost forget my good old automatisms.
- Ok, but if I decide not to pursue, I will ask you to respect my decision and not to insist.
He nods and precedes me while beckoning me to follow him.
He enters a long corridor and I notice that we pass in front of several rooms… then suddenly; I perceive notes and a voice… a sweet and melodious voice…. It differs a little more with surprise that chills run through me as this voice rises a little higher in the high-pitched.
The manager stops a few moments in front of a door that he slightly opens and in which he slowly enters. I follow him and discover a room dedicated to music: a piano at the back, a drums on the side, various guitars on their support and two microphones positioned on their tripod in the middle of the room surrounded by speakers… the walls are adorned with what I guess are pockets of hits, even albums and various awards… and my eyes end up sitting on a silhouette sitting back on a chair, placed on the side of the room.
A guitar put on her lap.
A hair brought to one side that lets me guess the top of a bare back.
And this melody that escapes from this person.
- Amelia… I have someone to introduce you.
The voice of Webber, her managers, stops me in the observation that I had unconsciously undertaken. The music stops. The guitar is placed on the ground and I soon see this silhouette get up and turn to us.
A tiny woman then faces me: dressed in a strapless blue summer dress, she advances gracefully towards us. Her hair is return on both sides oh her shoulders, framing a thin face, with delicate features, illuminated by a bright and almost laughing look that studies me. No unnecessary artifice on this face and yet a natural beauty emerges and strikes me… accustomed to rub shoulders with French personalities for several years, the simple and pure charm of this young woman upsets me spontaneously… as a pleasant wave of freshness after too long immersed in a world based on the false and the too much.
I feel almost intimidated by this young woman… which isn't my usual. But I don't let anything show; I was master in the art of hiding and dissimulating my emotions.
- Amelia, I present to you Owen Hunt… you know, I told you about him…
- Yes, I remember it Richard. Mr. Hunt, nice to meet you… Amelia Shepherd.
A small hand then stretches towards me and I sneak it while continuing to watch the young woman face me…
She smiles at me briefly and I feel the uncomfortable feeling of being stared from head to toes… and I cannot wait to see that she details me carefully.
- Something that bothers you, Mrs. Shepherd?
- I'm surprised… when Richard told me about a bodyguard, I imagined… say a man a little more imposing…
- If you want the rugby model, I'm sure your manager can find someone else…
- Don't get me wrong… I said I was surprised, not that I was disappointed…
She stares at me and I hold her gaze where I perceive almost a touch of challenge and mischief. We observe for a few moments that she concludes with a slight smile.
- I'm flattered in any case… to enjoy the services of the best bodyguard of the moment…
- I look down, not wishing to express again my point of view on this reputation that sticks to my skin, despite myself…
- I don't know what takes Richard to suddenly demand that I be protected…but if my manager deems it useful, I'm blindfolded, it is thanks to him everything that happens to me… so if he considers that I need you, I trust him…
- Are you ready to cooperate?
- Yes, of course… as long as you don't stop me from living and working on my music… we should get along no?
She asks me this question with a smile… with a spark in her eyes again… which intrigues me more than it should…
- Yes, it should be possible…
- Good, I am glad… I'll let you finish all the details with Richard. See you soon!
- Good night, Mrs. Shepherd.
She smiles to me one last time then redirects herself to her guitar and leans against her chair, almost forgetting us.
Richard Webber, who watched the scene without intervening, beckoned me to leave the room. Once again in the hallway, he walks a few steps, before turning to me.
- Thank you for accepting… despite your reluctance.
- I hope I don't regret it… I will send you my salary conditions.
- Your price will be ours; it's not a problem…
- Good, because I don't commit myself to any price. And it will also be necessary to agree on my way of working and the device to put in place to adapt to the latest threats that you have received.
- No problem.
- Good.
He smiles at me for a moment before starting again.
- Thank, you, Mr. Hunt. You relieve me of a real weight… I know she will be in good hands with you and I wish more than anything in the world that nothing bad happens to her.
I move a few steps, already committing myself on the stairs to leave the house. I turn one last time though before taking leave.
- You will thank me later… when my presence here is no longer necessary and Mrs. Shepherd will no longer have to fear the actions of anyone.