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Working on chapters 7 and 8 of Private Security at the same time. This is SUCH a bad idea! Lol. That saidā¦here is a little chapter 8 lovinā to my wonderful readersā¦ā” (There may be hints amongst the hashtagsā¦)
Warnings for this chapter: Parent death, terrorist activity.
This is our last āset upā chapter. We finally get some real interaction after this...
Chapter 5
Matthiasā POV
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the amber liquid swirling in the rocks glass next to me.
I didnāt drink often, but sometimes, a night of bourbon was called for. This was one of those nights.
I fucked up.
Yes, Linnea had been reckless. Yes, she had made my job harderā¦momentarily. But she had reached out. And what had I done? Iād been an absolute bastard to her.
I didnāt need to let her in. She hadnāt earned that privilege...yet. But I could have at least treated her like a human being.
In the midst of her angry speech this morning, a few things she said had seeped through the cracks in my faƧade.
She asked what I would do if the people I loved needed me.
Little did she know, I couldnāt answer that.
I cared about the people I protected. I had deep respect and pride for my team. My Ranger unit meant the world to me. But, love? There was no one.
Rarely did I think about my childhood, but Linnea had brought old memories to the surface.Ā
_____________________________
December 21, 1988ā¦the day I grew up.
I was 6 years old.Ā Ā
A device was detonated on board Pan Am 103 during a routine flight from London to Michigan. 243 passengers, 16 crew members, and 11 civilians on the ground were killed that day. Two of those 243 passengers were my mother and father. We had flown to England as a family two weeks before Christmas to see my motherās parents. I very rarely got to spend time with my grandparents; and after much begging on my part, my parents agreed to let me stay and spend the holiday in London. The condition was that grandma and grandpa would fly back to the states with me after Christmas for a long overdue stateside visit of their own.Ā Ā
That visit obviously never happened.
I remember very little of the days and weeks following the crash. I remember feeling scared and confused about never getting to see my parents again; but in a way, I was one of the lucky ones. I canāt imagine having gone through a tragedy like that as a teenager or young adult. The emotional scars that I bear are not nearly as noticeable as they would be had I been a few years older.
After my parentsā death, I stayed in London with my grandparents for about a year. I understood some things that were happening, but it was hard and I was sad. I think it would have been healthier if I had more people around me, but I was an only child and really didnāt know my extended family. I was a very lonely kid. My grandparents did not handle the loss well. I now know that the media circus surrounding the bombing had a lot to do with that; but looking back, I appreciate that they did the best they could. They were older and couldnāt care for a young child long-term. Plus, the grief of losing my mother destroyed them. After a year, all I wanted was to return to the states. I wanted to be back at school, back near my friends, around things that I knew.
I returned to the US and entered the foster system. I was lucky enough to spend time with great families, but I never felt as if I had a āhomeā. I guess thatās why I was so eager to enlist in the military as soon as I was able. The guys in my unit were my family. Theyāre still my family. I would do anything for them and I knew they would do the same. Is that love? Maybe. Itās certainly the closest thing I can equate to that emotion.
Joining the military was an escape, an attempt to find a purpose for myself in the world. I didnāt actually need a job. Once Libya accepted responsibility for the terrorist attack, compensation was offered to the families. I learned at 15 that I would get millions of dollars for the death of my family. Blood money. To this day, Iāve never touched it.
Being a protection specialist suits me. Iām damn good at my job. I guess wanting to keep people safe comes naturally after what I went through as a kid. There were no survivors on Flight 103. There was nothing I could have done. I guess thatās why I try now to do as much as I can. Having experienced so much loss, both of my family and during my years in service, keeping people safe matters to me.
But it never goes beyond the job. I donāt get personally involved. There are studies out there that talk about foster homes disrupting āattachment relationshipsā. I guess Iām a prime example of that. The whole ādonāt let people get too close because you might lose themā scenario.
Staying distant has been easy. Iāve never wanted to get close to any of the people Iāve worked for. Until now.
When Linnea was yelling at me this morning, yes, I had felt annoyed and honestly guilty about how upset Iād made herā¦but there was something else. Those brown eyes lit up with fire when she was angry. And for lack of a better word, she was sexy as hell.
I keep trying to remind myself that sheās a kid. Ok, not a kid, but being the daughter of my employer, itās hard to think of her as an adult. Iām 10 years her senior, but this girl is not your typical 24-year-old. She has seen the world, the good and the bad. Just like me, she lost family at an early age, but she hasnāt let it dictate the direction of her life. Truth be told, Iāve been intrigued since the day I was handed her file. Sheās smart. Sheās strong. She knows what she wants. And fuck it; it is immensely appealing to me.
There have been women over the years, of course. But none of them have ever held any kind of place in my heart. Not that I use them. I would never. Women are beautiful, alluring creatures and I craved them as much as any other heterosexual male out there. Any lady I ever chose to spend time with, had my respect; and I tried my damndest to make her feel good. By all reports, I did a pretty great job in that area. But there hasnāt been anyone in a while. The last time I was with a woman was before I started this assignment, soā¦almost a year ago.
Keeping myself constantly busy made the lack of action tolerable, so I really hadnāt thought much about contact with a woman; until Iād literally tackled one to the ground last night, that is.
Ā
Yes, Iām attracted to her. But itās not just that. Thereās a possessive feeling that has bloomed in my chest. I donāt want anyone else protecting her. I want to be the one to keep her safe.
I need to make this right. I have to apologize.
What I donāt know right now is how much damage was done by turning her away this morning. Does she hate me now? Has she already talked to her dad about what a dick I was? If so, has he already called the Secret Service offices to have me replaced?
Ughā¦this is impossible. I should turn in for the night, but Iām not sure yet if I need more bourbon or if Iām already past the point where I should have stopped. Maybe I should justā¦
*Ding*
Itās a text alert from one of my guys about tomorrowās schedule.Ā
Linnea and her dad have planned to take advantage of a rare day off for him and are going hiking at the nature preserve.
More importantly, they need me ready to go by 10 AM.
Ok...soā¦not fired. This is good.
Itās time to show her that Iām not some heartless asshole with a gun and an earpiece. To do this, Iāll need to let her in.
Shit. Opening up? Being a āgood guyā?
Definitely the most dangerous job Iāve ever signed up forā¦
Matthias Monday!!! Decided to make todayās selections a preview for Chapter 6 of Private Securityā¦ Ooooooohhh! Also, check out the Chapter 6 teaser posted yesterday!
