Page 6 of Protect Your Queen

Don’t threaten me with a good time, asshole.

Chapter two

Burn Those Clothes

Chris

Strathlachlan, Scotland

Iwas wholly unprepared for the new job. I had been through Airborne, Air Assault, and Ranger School. I went through the Q-course, and then Delta Selection as a first-time-go, but I was completely unprepared for the sheer humiliation of three months of Caledonia Security selection. Nothing prepares you to get your ass, proverbially and literally, handed to you by a pixie of a woman.

Lea MacLachlan, née Bonifacio, was a tiny shrew of a human who walked around with a butterfly knife the way others might fidget with their keys. She sent us through the ringer with drills, tactics, hostage rescue, bodyguarding, and fucking legal bookwork. All the while, she berated us.

“Awesome!” She clapped, the sarcasm evident in her posture and the raise of her brow. “Someone asked your client for an autograph, and you tackled them to the ground. I’m surethat’sgoing to go over well. Wanna kick a sick kid in a wheelchair while you’re at it? Really make sure that you end up a meme?”

She cackled when a dozen trainees walked out, voluntarily dropping from the program.

“If you can’t handle me, then you can’t handle our clients.”

All of that made sense, theoretically, since Caledonia served the richest, most elite kind of clientele. Still, it was one thing to take a tongue-lashing from a spoiled billionaire’s kid, but to take it from our trainer? Some egos just can’t handle that.

She took a mean stance when it came to beating old habits out of us.

“You're a fucking guard now. You’re notina combat zone. Your job is to catch a bullet, and keep the peace.”

She delighted in beating the ever-living fuck out of us. She had people coming in to play our enemy, our clients, and every possible scenario in between. She never lost an opportunity to jab at us. By the end of the first month, more than half the class had called it quits. When she got us down to a dozen, I felt good about my chances of being hired, until the final test was announced.

Good old fashioned hand-to-hand combat against the woman who had tormented me for months. I was ready - hell, we wereallready - to give a bit of it back to her. But one by one, they all got creamed, and tucked tail and left. In the end, I was the last one standing. I figured that I had nothing to lose so I went in, head down, ready to tackle, maim, and beat her into submission, only to get turned on my ass, my jaw punched by knuckles that felt as hard as steel.

“You fucking bitch!” I was practically shaking in hatred, as I spat blood on the mat, right across her bare foot.

“Gross,” she said, shaking her foot to wipe off my spittle.

I got up and asked for another try. I was unsteady on my feet, and dizzy as fuck from the blow she landed on my head.

“If you keep fighting me, I will kill you.” I had no doubt that she was telling the truth. I knew she could kill me if she wanted to, but it wasn’t in my nature to quit. So I didn’t.

“Best two out of three?” I brought my fists up to protect my face.

She twisted, lunging and disappearing from view to reemerge beside me. She smacked me on the back of the head and laughed.

“Welcome to Caledonia Security. You’re hired!”

What the fuck?

She ushered me into a side room where the rest of the staff waited, drinks in hand, laughing. The owner, Callum MacLachlan, signed me up right then and there, but warned me to never call his wife a bitch again.

“That wasn’t my finest moment,” I admitted. If that was all it took, I’d sing her praises until the end of time. “Sorry.”

Lea smirked at my half-assed apology, crossing her arms in front of her. “Please, you’ve all been cursing my name for months.”

She had no remorse.

Caledonia was elite for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was their great rapport with multiple government agencies. They had a way of making problems disappear, while keeping their clients breathing. The latter was the job, but the former was why they were paid the big bucks.

On my first official day, I wore my best pressed suit. The big boss was the first one to see me, and he froze in place.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Mr. MacLachlan looked at me like I had just bitten the head off a bat, Ozzy Osborne-style.

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