The flight attendant slipped him a piece of paper as he stepped past her on his way off the plane. Her dimple showed, but her eyes told him it was her phone number. His regret dissipated with each step like a pebble disintegrating into a cloud of dust as it bounced across the rough surface of his heart and soul.

In its place, a flash of remembrance reverberated through him, unwanted, of the first time he’d met Ariana. Walking through the airport, he gritted his teeth against the memory. But as he shoved into the back seat of a taxi and put his head back, closing his eyes, the sweet smell of her sex and the trembling of her thighs in his arms took hold as if she was there with him.

Damn. He needed to get past this. Past her.

He had to get control. Of the situation and of himself.

When he reached his hotel room, he placed the call to the OT. He wasn’t at all concerned that it was 12:05. The man in charge at OT knew him well enough to know he was reliable. Knew him better than most anyone else on the planet.

Joe didn’t mind since the knowing was mutual, but generally he was about keeping things close to the vest. Joseph Knight worked alone as a team of one. OT knew this. Joe knew this had to be a special assignment, taking that fact into consideration. He also knew he’d never be allowed to work on this assignment without her.

Once the commander of OT had told Joe what he thought of him. He still remembered the words.

I’ve never known anyone with the perfect combination of fierce commitment to protecting humanity and, at the same time, to be so without human attachment. Except you, Joe.

Whether the commander meant it as praise was an open question, but one Joe didn’t worry about. It was who he was. It was how he was. And all the men—and not a few women—since then who’d accused him of being a passionless fuck were right. Except one. His one mistake. He knew they hadn’t meant their assessment as praise, and he didn’t give a fuck. Naturally.

In the end, they’d counted on him and he’d delivered. Except for the women—he’d delivered only half of what they’d wanted. He could give them all the physical attention they could handle, but not the rest of it. Except that one time. That one big fat fucking regret.

He tried to be more careful now. Not only because he cared about their feelings, somewhat. But because it was a hassle he could avoid, like all the hassles he avoided by controlling his emotions, by taming his passion. And by always behaving in a rational way.

He’d learned his lesson well.

He’d stayed true to himself and had done what he did best: protecting those who needed it, most of whom paid him well. His one caveat was that he would only protect those whom he thought deserved it.

He’d turned down more assignments than he’d accepted over the years.

OT connected the line on their end. There was a pause and a faint buzz and then the voice he’d been waiting for.

“Go to room 2136.” The buzzing stopped and the call ended.

Joe picked up his key card, slipped it into his pocket along with some other necessary items, and went. He wondered if she’d be there, ahead of him, ready to go. Wondered if she’d been the reason he was on the assignment, but told himself to slam the door on that line of thinking. OT had called him in for good reason. No one was doing him any favors.

The last time he’d worked with Day, five years ago, the assignment had been one of the most important high-stakes missions of his life. This one would be protecting the same man from the same harm. He knew it without a doubt.

And without a doubt, His Holiness wouldn’t let anyone else near him without Ariana Day’s blessing.

Stepping off the elevator and walking the few feet down the hall to 2136, he slowed his breathing, told himself she was a professional partner. Nothing else. Told himself this was just another job. Nothing more.

He told himself lies.

Joe stopped in front of the door and stood for a beat, let his heart slow its pounding, cooled the emotions and let them settle. Then he slid the keycard into the slot and pushed the door open.

The Pope was in Boston on a visit and Ariana Day was his special and permanent security detail. Joe had been in Rome doing a check of the security systems at the Vatican. He knew the Pope was on tour with his contingent. That’s why they’d planned his visit now. That’s why he’d agreed to it. A complete check required a five-minute shut-down of the security systems. Joe had refused to chance it with the Pope there.

He’d refused to chance it with Ariana Day there.

While he’d been in Rome, a call had come in from Interpol alerting the Swiss Guard security at Vatican City of a possible threat to the Pope.

He’d asked where the Pope was and they told him Boston. He changed his flight to leave Rome early. Black Knight Security was headquartered in Boston. It was comprised of exactly one employee. Him. Bishop Calivari told him they had a company handling the Pope’s security in Boston and would alert them. Joe wanted to get back just in case. Maybe he’d lend a hand and keep an eye out whether he was paid to or not.

Although not religious by any means, Joe admired the Pope. He stopped his thoughts there, not wanting to go back to the assignment at Vatican City that had brought him together with the Pope and Ariana Day.

Now he knew he was being called in to help. Knew the Bishop had called the Omega Team to take care of the Pope’s security in Boston. Joe was the OT’s security in Boston. The Bishop hadn’t known this. No one knew. No one had to spell it out.

Joe pushed the door open all the way and stepped inside. He heard the click of the trigger on her raised gun before he saw her. He raised his hands and looked up to see her silhouette in the bright room where she stood in front of the large window. She made a perfect target of herself for a sniper, but she wasn’t the one someone was out to kill.

Ariana lowered her weapon, saying nothing as Joe walked into the room, tearing his eyes from her to see the smallish man sitting in the chair to her right with his feet up. He was dressed in a tan suit and wore an old-school hat with a crease in the top, a small brim, and a dark band around it. Joe smiled at the kind-eyed man.

“Joe.” The Pope’s radiant smile felt like a force field of well-being warming him. He began to rise from his chair where his feet had been resting on an ottoman, but Ariana stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Joe went to him instead, bending and kissing his hand. This was not something Joe would consider doing if he hadn’t felt the esteem, no matter what the protocol.

“I’m glad you’re here. My bishops will rest easier now.”

“Your holiness, you look different today.”

The Pope laughed and gestured to Ariana.

“This one insisted on this very unusual measure in the name of safety. I wear these clothes to keep her happy.”

Joe stood and looked at her, meeting her eyes now, steeling himself, controlling everything save the slight elevation of his heart rate and the slight warming of his body temperature.

When her eyes met his, he took a deep breath and began to feel the unraveling of his futile attempts to keep his distance, to pretend he wasn’t human. To pretend he hadn’t lost his heart and soul to this woman for life.

She spoke and he resisted the urge to gravitate toward her.

“His Holiness’s double rode in the cavalcade and handled the official public welcome. We’re going to make the switch at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross in twenty-three minutes.”

Joe was impressed that she hadn’t looked at her watch. Her accurate internal clock had always impressed him. He’d joked with her that it had been the Swiss in her.

“What’s the threat? Direct?”

She shook her head. He noticed her hand on the Pope’s shoulder and it struck Joe that she looked more like a loving protective daughter to this man than a lethally protective personal security detail to the Pope. But that’s what she was. What she had been since the last enclave voted the man in. That was only the first uproar this unconventional Pope had caused.

Joe smiled on the inside. Pope Luke Paul had insisted on Ariana on the grounds that since he’d known her as a child, the daughter of one of the Swiss Guard who’d been around the Vatican all her life, he could trust her like no other. And she’d been trained as if she were a Swiss Guard, by her father and then in military school in the States. She’d worked for an international security company for several years since the Swiss Guard had rejected her for being a woman.

The Swiss Guard had a number of requirements to qualify beyond the recruit’s capabilities. Applicants had to be Catholic, Swiss, unmarried, under thirty years of age and male. She’d qualified in every way and exceeded many of the men in education and close combat skills, but they refused to budge on the requirement that she be a male in spite of her father’s intervention. The pope at the time had been the opposite of progressive.

Now with Pope Luke Paul, although she wasn’t officially a member of the Swiss Guard protection detail for the Pope, she was above them. She was the personal protector of Pope Luke Paul. Joe knew she had given up her life to protect him and knew she would gladly lay down her life to protect him. The pain struck him as if it had happened only a moment ago. As if she had told him again that they could never be together, not for more than one night. Afterward, she’d told him it had been a mistake to have let him in her life and her bed.

Now he agreed and he wished to hell he could read what was on her mind as their eyes attempted to read each other’s souls.

“I wish the threat was direct. It wouldn’t be as serious as I’m afraid this one is.” She paused, glancing at the Pope. His Holiness put his hand over hers on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The man whose life was threatened was comforting his protector. But that was the way of Pope Luke Paul, to comfort those around him, unfailingly.

“What is it?” Joe prompted. He felt his professional cool slipping and tried shoring it up. He stood straighter.

“Interpol, and now NSA, has confirmed that there is a cell, it’s been activated, and it’s here in Boston. Their mission is an attack on the Pope. An assassination. He’s seen as a direct religious threat to the jihad, according to experts decoding the messages.” Ariana’s face changed from grim to determined, showing that burning passion he’d seen before.

At the time, it had been aimed at him. But now she reserved all her passion, her very life, for the purpose of protecting Pope Luke Paul for the rest of his life. She’d made a vow and Joe knew it was no less serious, no less committed than any priest or nun to their religious vows.

She may as well be a nun—the most devoted nun on the planet. The fact that she wasn’t all that religious in the strict Catholic sense, that she didn’t follow all the rules—in particular the celibacy rule—didn’t help Joe. In fact, it had hurt him.

“We’re trying to use his double for all public appearances.”

“But I won’t have it,” Pope Luke Paul said with a sad smile.

Joe understood. He was a man of the people.

Ariana took a breath, her hand still on the Pope’s shoulder, and continued.

“After his meeting with Daniel Patrick Cardinal O’Mara of the Boston Archdiocese and several local dignitaries at the cathedral, Pope Luke Paul is scheduled to speak at City Hall Plaza at 4p.m. He wanted to give all the people a chance to attend after work.”

Joe took that in. He knew the place.

“City Hall Plaza is a security nightmare. It’s like a canyon in the city, surrounded by countless sniper points and accessible on three sides for entry.” Joe stated the obvious.

Ariana closed her eyes for a few blinks. He wanted to take the few steps toward her and wrap his arms around her, let her share her burden of anxiety. He didn’t. But he could share the burden of security. He was a sharpshooter even without a sniper rifle.

She opened her eyes and nodded, sharing her concern, reaching out across space and time and acknowledging their bond. In that moment, he felt the tug that pushed him over the precipice and caused him to tumble helplessly back to that place where his feelings were open and raw and in control. He would be protecting Ariana Day as much as the Pope from whatever harm might come—that included harm from himself.

Resisting the urge to reach out, he gathered himself and spoke.

“Backup in the next room?”

“Both sides. The rest of the floor is empty. We used ghost reservations. No one at this hotel knows about the security.”

“Here I am, the average man on the street,” His Holiness said. “I wish it were so. That I could walk out the doors and into the streets and pass through the neighborhoods and speak to people. As it is, I am lucky I’m allowed to say Mass tomorrow.” He looked amused and pained at the same time.

Joe knew Pope Luke Paul grappled with the need for security. It was a constant reminder of the world’s evils and of his singular, so-called importance.

“Mass at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross will be our main security concern. There will be strict entry into the church, weapons checks. But there will be hundreds of people in very close proximity to His Holiness when he gives communion.”

“You’re giving communion?” Joe shouldn’t have been surprised. His second thought, after realizing the dangerousness of the close quarters of that many people, was that he’d like to receive communion from this man.

“The cars, the streets, and the tops of every building will be covered for the speech in Government Center, but the church is my biggest concern. You and I will flank him.” Ariana smiled and added, “We’ll be the altar boys for Mass. Remember how?”

“Sure. But you were never an altar boy.”

“I’ve schooled Ariana well in the role. She’ll make an excellent altar assistant,” Pope Luke Paul said. “Or maybe I will call her an altar angel.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll have a couple of real altar boys with us to do the heavy lifting.”

“Is that wise? They could be in danger.”

She nodded. “I know. I tried to explain this to His Holiness and the church. They’ve conceded to wearing Kevlar under their robes.”

“We’ll all be dressed in this protective clothing. Even me, Joe.” The Pope shook his head.

“The latest technology—nothing is too good for you.”

“Speaking of which.” Ariana raised a finger to say just a minute and left the room. She came back with a thin nylon-covered vest that looked like Joe’s size.

“All yours. Put it on and let’s go. We’re taking the elevator to the third floor and then the stairs down to the parking garage. There will be a silver Mercedes E320 waiting.”

“No standard-issue black SUV? Good call.”

“We’ll check it—and I mean every inch of it—and then you’ll circle the garage on foot before we get in and go.”

“I know you’ve thought of everything. I feel blessed and safe in your hands.” The Pope lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward to stand.

Joe jumped to the holy man’s side to help him. Ariana jumped to his other side.

They both helped the old man stand up. He seemed frail and full of life at the same time. Joe felt humble and filled with the need to protect him at all cost. His heartbeat picked up, clattering in his chest.

If his proximity to Ariana hadn’t strained his heart, then the presence of His Holy Greatness would have.

“Are you ready?” She asked His Holiness. Joe braced himself.

Pope Luke Paul nodded.

She slipped a cell phone from her pocket and pressed a button then put it to her ear. “Go.” She slipped it back into her pocket.

“I suppose the streets are crawling with undercover police of every denomination.”

“Yes, but don’t worry—they know who you are.” She quirked a smile and he felt the jolt as if she’d tasered him. “Once His Holiness switches places with his double and is ready to go, law enforcement will know to expect you and me to be at his side.”

Joe wanted badly to ask who had arranged for his presence, wondering whether it was OT or maybe the Pope himself. He damn well knew it wasn’t Ariana’s doing. Under the curtain of her professional seriousness, he felt the tension, the vibration of unshed emotion.

It couldn’t have been her call to have him here. Joe wished to hell it had been.

The cost of irrational flights of fancy was too high right now, so he set his jaw and flanked His Holiness, dressed as a man on the street, and walked him to the door of the nondescript hotel room.

When the elevator doors opened, Joe took the lead, stepping outside into the garage. After a check of the area, he approached the silver Mercedes. The engine was running and a man sat at the wheel. Joe knocked on the window and looked over his shoulder at Ariana to check if she knew the man. She nodded, confidence—and maybe something else—radiating.

The man rolled down the window.

“Everything is ready here, Mr. Knight. Would you like me to step out of the car?”

“Circle around first. Then park it and step out.” Joe resisted a smile. He wasn’t used to the “Mister” moniker. The man did as he was told and a minute later was back.

He and the driver were probably the same age, Joe figured as he stepped back from the door to let him alight. The driver took a reverent glance in the direction of Pope Luke Paul. His Holiness raised a hand in the sign of the cross blessing.

“What’s your name?” Joe asked.

“Benedict Farini, sir.” It matched the information he’d been given.

“Ben, do me a favor and stand with Pope Luke Paul. Watch his flank. You up for that?”

“Yes, sir.” Ben moved with haste, yet in a reluctant, jerky manner.

That was about how Joe felt. All jittery and at odds and serious as Armageddon. But he would never let Ariana or Pope Luke Paul see anything but cool confidence. He leaned inside the car and began running his hands along every surface, under the floor mats, under the seats, behind the pads, pressing down on the upholstery front and back. After he’d touched every surface, he took a gadget from his pocket, one he’d brought from his room before he’d joined Ariana and the Pope. This gadget was his latest invention. It detected the presence of listening or other surveillance devices as well as explosives or incendiaries of any kind. It let him know via LED readout the exact location on the small screen.

The car was clear. He performed the same careful check of the exterior and undercarriage using a mirror at the end of a telescopic pole he found in the trunk of the car. When he was finished, he shut the trunk with a solid thud and nodded at Ariana. She looked both ways and all around the underground garage as if she were crossing a highway, then and hurried the Pope toward the back door. Joe held it open for them and slid in, sandwiching Pope Luke Paul between them.

Benedict got back into the driver seat and put the car in gear, pulling smoothly from its spot and toward the parking garage’s exit ramp.

“You ready for this, Your Eminence?” Joe sat back in his seat to look at the man at his side, glancing at Ariana over the Pope’s shoulder.

“I’m always ready to address the people, Joe. This is what I live for. To speak with the people is the most important and most rewarding thing.” His smile convinced Joe that he spoke a universal truth.

“Tell me, do you work from a prepared speech?’ Ariana watched Joe. He flicked his gaze to hers. She held a subdued version of a Mona Lisa look.

The Pope chuckled and Joe felt the kindness radiate as the holy man put a hand on his arm.

“Maybe I should, Joe, but no. I speak from the heart. My only preparation has been my entire life.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

The Pope chuckled again and Ariana looked the other way, out the window. They were approaching the Cathedral on Washington Street in the south end of Boston. All familiar territory to Joe. It was where he’d grown up. People walked the streets, not giving the car a second look.

“This was a brilliant security strategy. The value of anonymity is underrated.” He smiled at Ariana. She nodded, but she was already back into security czar mode with her phone out and to her ear. She spoke quietly, letting whoever was at the other end of the line know that they were two minutes out.

“You ready to trade in your man-on-the-street persona for the mantle of Pope?” Joe asked, but in truth, the mantle of Pope never left the man, even wearing a tan suit and necktie.

“I am always ambivalent in these moments, but the die is cast—that’s how you say it?”

“That’s how it is. Couldn’t be a better man for the job.”

He chuckled with that kind warmth that Joe could listen to all day for its comfort value. The car pulled into a narrow drive where a wrought iron gate stood open. They drove around the back of the grounds where Benedict got them close to a simple wooden back door in the ornate granite-and-pudding-stone Cathedral.

Ariana took the Pope’s arms when the car stopped and leaned toward him.

“Your Holiness, I beg you to reconsider your appearance.” Her eyes glittered with concern and profound affection. Joe heard the familiar tremble in her voice. His heart would have cracked in two if it hadn’t already been obliterated by her. But it must have healed enough to feel the pain again, because there it was. She’d been irretrievably caught up in her mission to protect this man, and not merely because it was her job and she was sworn to the duty. Not even only because he was a great man, a beacon of hope to mankind, and deserving of the ultimate protection, but because she loved him like he was her own dear gentle grandfather.

She’d told him once that’s how she’d felt about him. That’s who he’d been to her as a child.

The Pope released his arms from hers and put a hand to her face. Joe noticed the large papal ring, the Ring of the Fisherman, gold and decorated with a depiction of St. Peter in a boat casting his net, with Pope Luke Paul’s name surrounding it. Joe was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Ariana, dear one, I understand how you feel. It is how I feel whenever you risk your safety for mine. But I know you must do this and you know what I must do. We do this together because it is best this way.” He turned to Joe. “And now we have Joe to help us. To give me comfort for our safety as well.”

The Pope stared into his eyes for a beat then and took a breath with his nod. “You understand, Joe.”

He understood. Pope Luke Paul wanted him to protect Ariana from harm. It was the Pope himself who had brought him to this mission.