CHAPTER 9
Travis
I woke early as usual. The alarm clock next to my bed showed 6:30 a.m., the green lights blinking in the gloom. My military conditioning to wake early had never faded, and I could never really sleep in past 7 o’clock.
I had ensured everything was ready the day before, so I had nothing to prepare on the day the trip started. The previous two nights, I’d broken my three-whiskey rule, figuring I was unlikely to get into trouble as I’d already had my share for the day with the two foolish thugs. Plus, I’d needed a couple extra to chill out, and the drinks had been free.
I’d awoken as clear-headed as ever, the adrenaline from the fight seeming to neutralize the three extra whiskies I’d had. Anyhow, it wasn’t nearly enough for me to get drunk. I had the constitution of an Ox, and a staggering tolerance for alcohol. When my wife left, I had desperately wanted to drown myself in alcohol to cope, but could never manage to successfully get drunk. Eventually, I stopped hitting the bottle when I realized it would be a shitload cheaper to just talk to someone about it.
After ensuring my gear was all ready and double-checking the limo, I’d taken a walk down to a payphone to call my contact in Paris. Hugo-Rafael, he liked to be called; I had no idea if it was his real name and didn’t care. Hugo, as I called him to his frustration, had ensured I had access to a few guns when I got to Paris. He’d told me he would leave a key in a locker at the airport gym, which would then open a safety deposit box near the hotel we were staying at. After ensuring the girls were safely checked in and having a look round the hotel, that would be my first destination.
There was a solid and reliable .357 snub nosed revolver, six shooter and surprisingly easy to conceal for a gun that could pop heads, and a Glock 19, reduced size and weight making it a perfect backup weapon. Plus, there was enough ammo to take down two full crews of knuckleheads.
We just had to get there in one piece.
I’d have a gun in the limo, which I would leave in the glove compartment. I’d told the guy I was hiring from, and he’d looked at me blankly until I handed him a fifty. Then he smiled and nodded.
It was the flight I was worried about though, but the chances of being jumped were slim. A plane would provide no room to fight and nowhere to escape with a hostage. Moreover, there would be an armed air marshal on board. Maybe two. I just had to have a look at my fellow passengers and mark any I thought were suspicious. Any trouble that happened on the plane would be one-on-one, and the tight confines would work in my favor.
No, there wasn’t much to worry about until the night we got to the hotel, but I’d be armed and twice as deadly. My gut told me that if anything, we would be watched for a while before something happened, and it would probably be between the first and second destination, or possibly later.
I felt much better now that the flight day had arrived. Now, all I had to do was keep Scarlett and her friends safe.
Later that day, I grabbed my clothes and gear in my tattered bag, double checking the chamber in my revolver. Fully loaded.
I had a combat knife hidden in my pants too—sheathed, of course. Didn’t want any accidents happening.
I left my apartment, double locking the door in the process, and headed for the store where I’d hired the limo—or where Scarlett’s dad had hired it, to be more precise. I’d made sure there were a couple of very expensive bottles of champagne in the fridge. Again, all courtesy of the girl’s father.
I arrived at the entrance of Scarlett’s mansion an hour before I was due, not wanting to leave anything to chance.
I made my way to the front door, nodding at the guard standing like a statue to the right of the entrance. “Mr. James,” he said, nodding back.
Taking the steps two at a time, I pressed the doorbell. A few moments later, the door swung open and I was greeted by a kindly middle-aged woman who adjusted her gaze up to my face, smiling. “Ah, Travis James, I presume? Pleasure. Please, come in,” she said, stepping to the side.
The entrance of the house led to a large spiral staircase that I had caught a glimpse of on my previous visit. I stood to one side of the foyer with my arms behind my back, adopting a nonchalant but powerful pose. I switched my brain off, knowing it might be a while before the girls were ready.
The middle-aged lady stared at me quizzically. If she was impressed or intimidated, she showed no sign.
“Do you want a coffee, love?” she asked in what I guessed was a British accent. She continued looking at me, her expression motherly.
I ain’t that much younger than you, you know, I thought, amused. Though I liked to think I could pass for my late 20s, I realistically passed for my early 30s.
“No thank you, doll,” I said. “I ain’t one for mixing coffee with anything more than a short drive. Water would be good, though.”
She smiled and hurried off toward what I guessed was the kitchen.
I surveyed the room, noticing a large armchair, couch, and table off to one side, and wondered if anyone ever sat there considering there were a hundred other rooms to choose from.
I unashamedly walked over and sat myself in the middle of the large couch, hands clasped in front of me, elbows on my knees. I felt the sheath of my knife poking into my groin and had to adjust myself through my pants, hoping no one was looking.
A while later, after finishing my glass of cold water, I heard commotion from upstairs. The excited chatter of young female voices drifted toward me. I inwardly groaned, anticipating a headache before we even get to the airport, and hoping the limo had a soundproof privacy glass.
Suddenly, the chatter stopped as three figures emerged from the doorway at the top of the stairs. Two of them unapologetically stared at me. Both were pretty, with full figures. But one of them had far too much makeup on, while the other had dark alluring eyes and large breasts that she wasn’t hesitating to show.
Neither was my type though. Too easy—I could tell just from a glance. Ain’t no fun if there ain’t no challenge.
“Hey, handsome,” the heavily made-up one said as she got halfway down the stairs. “Scarlett said you were big, but wow! She’s been telling as all about how she can’t wait to see you. In fact, I caught her this morning in bed, her—”
Scarlett slapped her friend on the arm. “Raven, control yourself! I know you can’t help it, but please, do try,” she said in a clipped tone.
I took a mental note that the stripper one was Raven and that I should probably keep an eye on her because she’d undoubtedly get her friends in trouble. After her and Scarlett, that left...
“What do you think, Lonette? D’ya feel safe now?” Raven turned to the third girl, the last to arrive in the foyer.
Lonette looked thoughtful. Quiet, full-figured, dark eyes, husky…Dangerous to the unprepared or desperate man, I imagined.
“Yeah,” Lonette said, simply. “I feel like we can get into any trouble we want with Mr. Big Hard Bodyguard watching over us.” She and Raven laughed, while Scarlett frowned at the pair.
I stood and swiftly approach the three of them. “Are you ready to go, ladies?”
Scarlett answered before the others had a chance to respond. “Yes, we are.”
“Now why don’t you use your big muscles for something more useful than standing there looking scary?” Lonette said breathily, staring into my eyes. She gestured up the stairs with a dainty hand. “Our suitcases are up there. Too heavy for us weak, defenseless women to carry downstairs by ourselves.”
Giving me a hard time ‘cause your daddy’s rich, I thought to myself, annoyed. I wasn’t takin’ no shit from girls who were too used to gettin’ their way all the time.
I cleared my throat. “I’m gettin’ paid to be a bodyguard. Ain’t nothing in my contract about being no bell boy, kiddo.”
Lonette frowned. She opened her mouth to say something but seemed to be struck dumb.
Clearly, she wasn’t used to the staff talking back to her.
Raven and Scarlett laughed, both looking a little flushed.
After hesitating for a while, Raven, Scarlett, and Lonette begrudgingly walked back up the stairs. I heard a muttered, snide remark from Lonette, just quiet enough so I couldn’t fully make out the words.
I knew she’d be trouble.
But it would take more than a spoiled little rich girl to piss me off.
A few seconds later, the girls filed downstairs, struggling with their massive suitcases. With my arms folded, I watched them awkwardly make their way down and tried not to laugh at them.
When they managed to get halfway down the stairs, I sprang into action. My speed surprised Raven and Lonette, but not Scarlett. Her expression was hard to read, but I thought she looked awed. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my end.
Deciding it was time to show off, I lifted Scarlett’s suitcase first, my chest and biceps bulging as I settled it on my left shoulder. I then lifted Raven’s with my left hand, having to hold it at an awkward angle to keep Scarlett’s balanced on my shoulder.
What the fuck had they packed?
I gave no indication that the cases were heavy though, lifting Lonette’s case onto my right shoulder and balancing deftly on the stairs. I the proceeded to smoothly take them out to the car.
When I returned, the girls stared at me in awe.
“Listen,” I said, “I’m here to keep you safe. Something I’m good at. If you’re ever in trouble, you can count on me being there. See anything suspicious, tell me.” I paused, looking at them each in turn. “But I ain’t takin’ any shit. If you need help with something, you ask nicely, and I’ll think about it.”
Lonette sauntered over to me, swaying her hips and smiling. She put her hand on my bicep and squeezed a little. “Well, there is one thing you could help with, if you’d be so kind?” she said teasingly. “There’re three more cases at the top of the stairs. Could you please help and bring them down for us? You’re obviously more capable than we are.”
I looked down at her, raising my left eyebrow. “That’s more like it. See, it ain’t hard, darlin’.”