Page 46 of The Bodyguard

“You know it,” she said, voice low.

“It’s a private club.”

“You meantheclub.”

His expression didn’t change. But that silence? It wasn’t denial.

“You were there the other day,” she said. “When Coop covered for you.”

“I had a meeting.”

She folded the letter in half, slowly, deliberately. “They know. About me. About you. About your connection to that place.”

His eyes didn’t move from hers. “Yes.”

“Then this isn’t just about politics anymore.”

“No,” Mitch said. “It hasn’t been for a while.”

She stepped back and braced both hands on the edge of the counter. Her heart kicked into a higher gear, but not from fear.

From realization.

Mitch wasn’t just her bodyguard. Wasn’t just some retired military contractor turned private security. He was tied to this deeper. And whoever was behind the threats—whoever was trying to unravel her life—wasn’t just watching. They were digging. Hunting.

“I’m not the only one with enemies,” she said. “You’ve got ones of your own.”

Mitch’s mouth flattened. Not an expression. Just containment.

Andi gripped the counter harder. “Did something happen at that club?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re not just a member, are you?” she asked.

Still nothing.

That alone told her everything she needed to know.

“You think this has something to do with what happened to you before,” she said softly.

His jaw shifted. She watched it. Watched him breathe like he was preparing to walk into a war zone.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “Don’t just protect me. Let me in.”

Mitch took a breath. Then another. Finally, he walked toward her—not slow, not hesitant. He moved like a man used to controlling his pace because control was the only thing keeping everything else in check.

“I made a mistake,” he said. “A year ago. I let someone into my life who used the language of submission as a weapon. She knew who I was, who I worked for, and she thought she could own me the way people try to own stories. Secrets.”

Andi felt a cold flash through her chest.

“She was working with a foreign delegation. Attached to a South African diplomat. The job was supposed to be clean. Escort. Secure location. Move on.”

“It wasn’t.”

“She used me to get access. To learn habits. Track patterns. She used the club in London, Baker Street, the lifestyle, as a cover. Played the role of the devoted submissive while feeding intel to someone trying to compromise Cerberus.”

Andi stared at him. “Jesus, Mitch…”

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