Page 37 of Bound to the Bodyguard

“Okay, okay, that’s good. You’re doing great,” I encouraged, though my gut twisted at the confirmation of our worst fears. The attacker was careful, methodical, and now, hidden behind a mask, remained a ghost—a specter casting a shadow over our safety.

My mind raced, cataloging the scant details, sifting through them for anything actionable. A masked assailant meant premeditation, someone who didn’t want to be identified. But it also meant we were close, closer than I liked, watching and waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

“Hey, stay with me. Keep your eyes open,” I urged, as the paramedics hoisted the stretcher into the ambulance. I watched, fists clenched at my sides, the disciplined part of me maintaining control while another part, the human part, screamed in frustration and concern.

“Jerome, I—” Knox’s words were cut off by the paramedics ushering me back, insisting they needed space to work.

“Take care of him,” I said, the authority in my voice making the paramedics nod. They understood the unspoken command—keep him alive.

As the ambulance doors slammed shut and the vehicle sped away, I stood there, my figure immovable as the chaos continued to swirl around me. My mind, however, was already moving, analyzing, planning the next move in this deadly game of shadows and secrets. Whoever was behind this mask had just escalated the stakes, and I was not a man who took kindly to threats against those under my protection.

The police tape fluttered in the crisp night air, cordoning off the scene with a stark yellow line. I stood beside Raven, her silhouette drawn tight against the flashing lights as officers moved methodically around us. A detective approached, flipping open a small notebook, his face etched with lines of concern.

“Ms. Fields, Mr. Dawson,” he began, his voice steady, “I need you to walk me through what happened.”

“Of course,” Raven said, her tone steady despite the tremor I saw in her hands. I admired her composure; it was one of the qualities that made her not just another client but a woman who had earned my respect.

“From the top, please,” the detective prompted, pen poised.

“I was in my bedroom when—” Raven started, only to pause, biting her lip.

“When shots rang out,” I finished for her, my gaze never leaving the detective’s.

“Did either of you see the shooter?” The question hung heavy between us.

“Masked,” I replied curtly. “Knox couldn’t get a clear visual.”

“Any idea why someone would target you or your friend Knox?” the officer pressed on.

“You mean besides the threatening phone calls, letters and meet ups with guys in masks in the last two weeks?” I asked.

“We’ll do everything we can,” the detective assured, closing his notebook with a snap that seemed to echo too loudly.

“Officer,” I addressed him before he could walk away. “We’re willing to assist however we can. Whoever did this needs to be found.”

“Understood. We appreciate your cooperation,” the detective nodded and moved off into the sea of blue uniforms and tape.

“Jerome,” Raven murmured once we were alone again, “do you think they’ll catch whoever did this?”

I turned to her, steeling myself against the surge of protectiveness that rose within me. “They will,” I affirmed, though the hollow feeling in my gut told me this wasn’t going to be simple. “I’m here, Raven. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Her eyes, usually so full of fire, now held a vulnerability that tugged at something deep inside me. “I know,” she whispered back. “I trust you.”

That trust weighed on me more than any kevlar vest ever could. I’d shield her with my life if need be, but the thought of failing crept insidiously into my thoughts.

“Come on,” I said softly, placing a gentle hand on her back, guiding her away from the scene. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

As we walked away, the chaos of the night still echoed behind us, but I felt a silent vow settle within me. We were in this together, and I’d move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

Chapter 25

Raven

The cold air nipped at my skin as we stepped away from the flashing lights and the relentless buzz of the crime scene. I wrapped my arms around myself, a feeble attempt to ward off the chill that had settled deep in my bones—a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

“Jerome,” I began, voice barely above a whisper, betraying the tremors I felt inside. “This... it doesn’t feel real. I can’t believe someone would—”

“Hey,” Jerome cut in gently, his hand finding its way to my shoulder, offering a squeeze of reassurance. “I know this is hard to process. But you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

---