Page 70 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
“Heading out. I’ve got personal business,” I tell them flatly. “You two stay here.”
Huck raises an eyebrow. “Personal business? Since when do you have personal business we don’t know about?”
They’ve been with me too long. They know every scar, every story, every goddamn ghost in my head. And normally, I’d let them shoulder it with me. Normally, I’d trust them with everything.
Not this time.
“Stay with her,” I order. My voice is clipped, sharp. “Guard the house. Don’t let David’s people get close.”
“Sean—” Wesley starts, but I cut him off.
“This isn’t a debate. Hold the line.”
Huck leans back slowly, arms crossed, a warning in the set of his shoulders. “You’re not thinking straight. Whatever this is, we should be in on it.”
I meet his eyes. “Hold. The. Line.”
For a second, I think Huck’s going to push back. He’s stubborn enough to do it. But then he glances toward the kitchen, where Bailey’s voice drifts through the house like a ghost, fragile and breaking. He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face, and gives me the smallest of nods. Wesley doesn’t like it, but he falls in line too.
I grab my keys. I don’t look back.
The drive feels longer than it should. I cut through Los Angeles traffic, my grip tight on the wheel, my head filled with noise. Bailey’s grimace. David’s smug grin. The memory of a desert halfway across the world where we were too late.
I promised myself once I left the SEALs that I’d never let personal feelings cloud my judgment. Distance keeps you alive. Distance keeps the mission clean. Keeps the client safe.
And yet here I am, every line blurred, every instinct screaming at me to protect her, to protect those kids, no matter the cost.
I force the memories back, but they claw their way up anyway. Afghanistan, a compound swallowed in dust, a woman’s shrieks cut short by a gunshot. Her body lying in the dirt because a private security team thought bedding the client was more important than keeping her safe. My team and I had disobeyed orders, rushed in to stop it, but we were minutes too late. Minutes that cost lives.
That failure tattooed itself on my bones. I will not repeat it. If I keep letting myself want Bailey, I’ll miss something. I’ll slip. And then it won’t just be her heart at risk—it’ll be her life. The kids’ lives.
I can’t let that happen.
The city lights fall away as I drive north. Houses thin out. The road narrows, twisting into the dark like a vein. Pines line either side, black shadows against the dusky sky. Finally, I pull onto a dirt path, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
Chief’s place.
She owns twenty acres out here, land worth more than I’ve ever seen in a bank account. I’ve never asked how she got it. I don’t need to know. Some questions aren’t worth the bruises you’ll take for asking.
Her cottage sits at the end of the path, small and square, porch light glowing like an eye in the dark. I kill the engine and step out, boots sinking into the soft earth. The air smells of pine sap and smoke, and for a moment, it feels like I’ve stepped out of the world entirely.
I knock once.
The door creaks open. Chief fills the frame, her dark eyes taking me in, her posture as unyielding as ever. She’s barefoot, wearing sweats and a tank, but she still manages to look like she could dismantle me with a look.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
The question is simple. But it lands like a hammer.
I don’t bother easing into it. I don’t have the patience. “David’s trying to steal custody. Bailey’s falling apart. And it’s my fault.”
Her brows lift a fraction, but she doesn’t interrupt.
I keep going, words spilling like rounds from a rifle as I pace on the wood porch. “I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve been objective, sharp. Instead, I’ve been too close, too involved. Wrapped up in what I feel for her. If I’d kept my distance, I would’ve seen David’s power play miles away. But I didn’t. And now she’s paying for it.”
Chief crosses her arms, tilting her head. She lets the silence stretch until it scrapes my nerves raw. Then she asks, calm but cutting, “So…what are you doing here?”
I blink. “I just told you.”
