Page 6 of Protecting Hailey

I extended my hand as soon as I reached them.

“Christian, this is Daryl Jones and his wife, Anne.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” I said.

I stood, waiting for my father’s next words. I’d learned long ago not to sit until the host permitted it.

“Why don’t we take a seat and Daryl can fill you in on the details.”

I waited for Mrs. Jones to sit first before taking one of the chairs in front of them.

“Thank you for meeting us on short notice,” said Daryl. He had short brown hair that was starting to recede from his forehead. But he wore a designer sweater and jeans that made him look younger than his sixty-five-plus years.

Anne, on the other hand, looked young enough to be his daughter. She was blonde and slender, the kind of skinny that probably spent too much time counting calories.

“It’s no problem. I’m sorry to hear that someone hurt your daughter.”

“That useless bodyguard watched it all happen,” Anne snapped.

“Darlin’, that’s not exactly true.” Turning to me, he added, “Her bodyguard was unable to disarm the man in time. It was completely unexpected, but we felt we had no choice but to fire him.”

I nodded. A bodyguard should protect his client at all costs. If anything happened, like if they were kidnapped or stabbed, they should be fired. I agreed with Anne. Perhaps I should tell them about my mistake and excuse myself from the case now before something more serious happened to their daughter.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones, I should warn you—”

Mrs. Jones cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, your father has already warned us about your fees. It’s not a problem.”

I shot a glance at my father. He had no idea what we charged for our services. He avoided my eyes, but looked unfazed by the comment. Instead, he tapped his foot on the floor and grew impatient. I would speak to him about this later.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say. A few months ago—”

My father stood up and tipped his head toward the elevators. “Can I speak to you for a second?”

He waited for me with his hands on his hips, flaring his suit jacket. I’d seen this look enough times to know I shouldn’t refuse.

Turning to Mrs. Jones, I smiled. “Excuse us for a minute.”

They pursed their lips but didn’t object.

I followed my father a few steps away from the couches and straightened my jacket.

With one hand on his hip and the other pointing at the Jones’s, he asked, “What are you doing?”

‘Protecting their daughter’, I wanted to shout, but I knew he wouldn’t understand. Instead, I closed my eyes and said, “Dad, I appreciate the business, but this isn’t a good time right now.”

“Cut the shit, Christian, all right. Will told me about your fuck up. It’s time to man up and get over it.”

I stumbled back, as though he’d punched me in the gut. Will, you traitor! I swore under my breath.

“I am over it,” I ground out through bared teeth.

“The hell you are. Now you’re the best hand-to-hand combat soldier I’ve seen. You can disarm a man in less than three seconds. You’re the only one I’d trust on this job for Daryl’s daughter. So enough of this shit and get to work.”

I should have been irate with his foul language. I should have told him he could not speak to me in this way. Except, my head couldn’t get past the words, ‘You’re the only one I’d trust on this job’.

I inhaled sharply through the emotions building in my chest. It was the stupidest fucking thing, but to hear those words coming from my father validated me in a way that no assignment or pep talk from Will ever could.

And the worst part?

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