Chapter One

"Your newest client will be arriving any minute. Get yourself together,"

The gruff voice of his boss bristled in D'Artagnan's ear. He pushed himself up from the reclined position in which he was laying, and raked a hand through his hair. He was the only member of the security firm who didn't have any military experience. The only one who had never been a solider. He had spent his life farming until recently. There was a lot to prove.

He'd been sleeping on the couch in their office for the past three months while he looked for an apartment. He was the newest member of the team, and new to town. He had a sinking feeling that his boss, Treville, was growing tired of his squatting. A knock sounded on the door, causing a shot of adrenaline to volt through his veins. He quickly tucked his shirt in, and laced up his boots.

"Just a moment,"

Straightening the papers on his desk, he called for his new client to enter. The woman on the other side of the door was shown in by Treville. Lovely auburn colored hair spilled over her shoulder in gorgeous ringlet curls. She was beautiful, save the pained and worried expression on her face.

"Please, have a seat,"

The woman stuck out her hand, "I'm Constance,"

"D'Artagnan,"

They both took their seats.

"I'm assuming your boss has filled you in about my situation?"

D'Artagnan nodded, "A little, but I'd like to hear what's going on from you,"

She swallowed and clutched her purse in her lap, "Alright, well...I'm newly divorced. My ex husband went through with the divorce with no problem, but since it was finalized he's been stalking me." She shook her head, "I knew it was too good to be true, him agreeing to the divorce. He was abusive, manipulative..."

D'Artagnan looked thoughtfully at the woman sitting across from him. He didn't like where this was going. These types of cases weren't exactly their specialty.

"Have you contacted the police?"

She scoffed, "His brother is a police officer. I've tried, but never gotten very far,"

D'Artagnan pursed his lips, "So, can you explain what you're hoping to accomplish?"

Constance wasn't sure she came to the right place now. The man sitting across from her seemed too cocksure, and perhaps even a tad rude.

"I was hoping for some help upgrading my home's security system, and possibly some advice."

D'Artagnan leaned back in his chair and eyes the woman carefully. He couldn't think what man would want to leave her. She was beautiful, and her eyes pulled him in. Maybe a bit too much. He'd been burned before by gorgeous women. So much so that he had a new motto "Head over heart. Every time." He planned to stick by that.

"Okay, I think I can help. I'll be in touch tomorrow morning," He smiled at her. She didn't seem amused.

She slid a an envelope across the table to him before rising and exiting the office. Treville peaked his head inside the door and gave D'Artagnan a disapproving look.

"What?"

"You're supposed to make the clients feel at least. Not put them on edge."

"I'm sorry,"

"I don't want you to be sorry D'Artagnan. I want you to be better. Take pride in protecting the innocent. It's why we started this security firm. I told you when you came here that I would accept only the best."

Treville eyed him seriously.

"I understand, Captain."

That evening D'Artagnan studied Constance's file thoroughly. Her former husband was in the clothing business and it often took him abroad. It had made him enough money to live comfortably, and it appeared Constance was awarded one fourth of everything in the divorce. She hadn't asked for anything, but apparently he'd insisted.

She lived on the outskirts of the city. Plenty of neighbors but no one too close. He drew up a security plan based on what he knew of the house. The rest would have to wait until tomorrow. For now, he'd get some sleep, and pray, seriously pray that he didn't tank this job.

The next morning Constance opened the door to let D'Artagnan inside. He was wearing a white button down shirt, and black dress slacks. The boots he wore should have clashed, but he could pull it off, Constance thought.

"You need cameras at your front gate."

"Hello to you too," she said flatly.

"Hello," he smiled. "Good morning."

"So, cameras?"

He made a note in the notebook he carried. "Yes, at least one in the front. Can you walk me around back to have a look?"

She obliged and D'Artagnan followed her through the house. His eyes fell to her jean clad hips, and then decided he was safer to watch the swaying of her ponytail. She unlocked the back door and lead him into the back garden. Her home was completely fenced in. That was a good thing, he thought.

"There's no access from back here?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He considered, "I'd still feel more comfortable if you had a camera back here,"

Constance crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged, "Whatever you say,"

"Let's take a look inside,"

He looked at all her windows, the doors, the basement access, and finally they sat down at her kitchen table.

"Why don't you tell me some about what's been going on?"

Constance sighed, "I come home, and he's waiting here. Once I found him inside, even though I know I locked the door. I had the locks changed the very next day."

"Has he been inside since?"

"Not when I'm home, but..."

"But?" D'Artagnan urged.

"This is going to make me sound so paranoid."

"We deal in paranoia," he grinned.

"I've thought things have been moved, or disturbed..." she trailed off.

"Has anything been taken?"

"No, not that I've noticed. He sends me threatening texts. Calls me in the middle of the night,"

"Can I read them?"

She passed D'Artagnan the phone. He scrolled through the messages, and listened to the voicemails. He hadn't read anything so violent and nasty in a very long time. The guy was a real winner. He passed the phone back to her.

"Well, the first thing we need to do is change your phone number."

"I have. Twice."

He sat for a moment. "Okay," he shook his head slowly, "We keep this phone only for evidence. Let him send all the hateful things he wants to this phone. You turn it off and put it in a drawer."

"I need a phone..."

"I'll get you one. The company, I mean. It'll be prepaid so there's no way he will be able to find out your number."

She seemed relieved, and D'Artagnan was happy to be the one to lift even the smallest of weights off her shoulders. They went over a few more things, and he headed for the door with her right behind.

"I'll swing by tomorrow with the phone,"

"Thank you,"

He grinned at her before she closed the door.

Easy boy. Slow down. He told himself. With his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his pretty new client he almost missed the black sedan parked on the street across from the house. It matched the description of the ex's vehicle. Tinted windows so he couldn't see inside.

D'Artagnan texted Constance.

"There's a car across the street. Is it him?"

His phone buzzed. "Yes."

D'Artagnan slipped his phone in his pocket, and got out of his car. He made his way, with fierce determination across the street. His eyes focused on the driver's side of the car. Before he could reach the door he heard the screech of tires. The car sped away, zipping past him, and almost knocking him off balance.

Well, D'Artagnan thought, he certainly had his work cut out for him.

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