Page 6 of Redemption

I agreed, though I wasn’t looking forward to it. Too many people. Too many variables. Too many other executive protection teams fighting to be top dog. Too much fucking politics.

That was a big reason why I’d switched to a residential security team, as opposed to a movement team, over a year ago. I liked the challenge of defending my client’s castle, so to speak.

I moved about the city with them to local, smaller events. And I’d even accompanied Nate and his family to Abu Dhabi. But it had only served to remind me of how many variables I had to account for. How many things could go wrong.

“I was thinking about asking Ghost to handle it,” Vaughn said, referring to my colleague Nicholas. Ghost was his call sign, like Blackjack was mine.

While some of my coworkers had joked that it was because of my love of sailing or cards, I’d been given the call sign by my fellow SEALs. A blackjack was a weapon. A small but powerful lead-filled club with a flexible handle.

“Has the Crawford family asked for a change?”

Had I done something wrong? Had Graham finally decided to do something about me? I knew he remembered me. I knew he knew who I was, even if he’d never said anything.

“No.” Vaughn dragged a hand over his head. “Nothing like that. I just…” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I could use your expertise for a different project.”

I frowned. Why did I get the feeling I was being reassigned? It made no sense. I had a great rapport with the Crawford family.

“We have a client who has been receiving threats.”

I arched an eyebrow as Vaughn slid me a folder across the desk. I opened it and scanned the threats. Nothing too gruesome, but I could understand the client’s concern. Still…that didn’t explain why Vaughn had sought my “expertise,” as he’d put it. Any number of our agents were qualified to analyze threats and offer guidance. Hell, a lot of them were more qualified than me.

As a Navy SEAL, I’d been trained and tested with my skills in combat diving, land combat, parachute jumping, and Naval Special Warfare. I had other training, both from my time in the Navy and at Hudson. I could certainly analyze a threat, but some of my colleagues were better equipped and suited to do so.

“No idea where they came from?” I asked, holding up a copy of one of the notes.

Vaughn shook his head, and I waited for him to tell me where exactly I came in.

He interlaced his fingers. “The client wants to take a sailing trip and has agreed to protection.”

I frowned. “What do you mean…has agreed to protection? They’re not currently under protection?”

“New client. Sort of. Family referral. I sent Disco to keep an eye on things in the meantime.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Anyway, you were the first person who came to mind, considering your experience. Are you interested?”

“How long?”

“Two months.”

Wow. A two-month sailing trip sounded like heaven, even if it technically would be for work. I’d always loved being on the water, the horizon the only thing ahead of me beyond endless ocean.

“What’s the proposed route?”

He handed me his tablet, and I scrolled through the plans. Holy shit. The more I read, the more excited I grew.

It was a dream trip. Sailing down the Thorny Path from Miami through the Bahamas and the Turks and Caicos Islands. Puerto Rico. Virgin Islands.

“What kind of craft? How many crew?” I asked, my eyes never leaving the screen.

“Thirty-five-foot sailboat. No crew.”

I jerked my head back. “No crew?”

“It can be sailed by one person.”

“I know, but…” Most of Hudson’s clients weren’t the type to sail a trip like that alone. They had yachts and crew and… My curiosity was certainly piqued. Even so… “That’s a small boat for two people. I assume it would be just the two of us.”

“Correct.”

I nodded, considering. Wealthy. Experienced sailor. It wasn’t their first rodeo if they were willing to take on that journey alone.

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