Page 16 of Bound to the Bodyguard

"Raven, we need to talk."

She sat up straighter, her eyes locking onto mine. "What's wrong?"

I paced closer, the air around us charging. "It's not just the threats we've received. I’m worried there could be hidden cameras in your home, surveillance we're not aware of."

My throat tightened as I absorbed my words, a shiver creeping down my spine. Hidden cameras. Someone might be watching her every move. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Cameras?" She echoed, anger lacing her voice now. This breach of privacy, this violation—it ignited a fury.

"Yes, and I can't shake the feeling that someone's been inside.”

"Then what do we do?" Her hands clenched into fists on her lap, seeking something solid to hold onto in the midst of this uncertainty.

"That's why I'm here.” I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. "I've decided to bring in a professional team to conduct a thorough security sweep of the house."

"Will that be enough?"

"Nothing will be overlooked. Every inch of your home will be scrutinized. We'll check for bugs, cameras, anything that shouldn't be here. Your safety is my responsibility, Raven. I won't rest until I'm certain you're secure."

A mix of emotions churning inside me. Fear, gratitude, and something else—something that felt dangerously like the first tendrils of trust. Maybe I was finally getting through to her.

"Okay. Do what you have to do, Jerome. Just... make sure they're discreet."

"Discretion is paramount. You have my word."

An hour later, the doorbell rang. I glanced at Raven. "Showtime!”

She trailed behind, curiosity piqued as the door swung open to reveal three figures. They stepped in, each nodding at me with the kind of respect that spoke of longstanding camaraderie and mutual esteem.

"Raven, this is Mack," I began, gesturing to a woman with cropped auburn hair and piercing green eyes. "Ex-CIA counter-surveillance."

"Ma'am." Mack's greeting was curt, her gaze sweeping the interior of the foyer with practiced ease.

"Next is Bishop," I continued, indicating a man with a wiry frame clad in black, his movements precise and economical. "Former Navy SEAL, communications and tech expert."

"Ms. Fields," Bishop acknowledged, his voice low and even.

"Lastly, we have Knox. Ex-FBI, specialized in electronic forensics."

"Hello," Knox said, offering a respectful nod.

They moved past us, their steps silent on the polished floors. I followed close behind, my eyes never leaving the team as they dispersed into the living room. They unpacked their gear methodically—black cases revealing an array of devices that looked ripped from the pages of a spy novel.

"Each room gets a full sweep," I instructed.

"Understood," they responded in unison, already fanning out to their assigned tasks.

"Will it take long?" Her voice sounded small against the backdrop of their efficiency.

"Every minute counts when your privacy is at stake. But rest assured, Raven, we'll be thorough."

"Thorough" seemed an understatement. Each movement was deliberate, each scan of a device, a silent sentinel searching for unseen threats.

"Find anything, and it's straight to me," I directed, eyes not missing a beat as I monitored their progress.

"Copy that," Bishop affirmed, his fingers dancing over a sleek gadget that hummed softly.

"Jerome..." She hesitated, caught between admiration and unease.

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