Page 12 of Shield and Savior

Lance wiggles his eyebrows and says, “Absolutely.”

We both watch as Drew leaves with Mrs. Johnson. When they’re out of earshot, Lance sticks his hand into his coat pocket and says, “I am with Mastodon Security.”

Ms. Hammerstein gives a curt nod. “I am aware. Your paperwork, background, and instructions were sent over yesterday.” She opens a file on her desk. “I don’t like the new logo.”

For the first time, his face tightens, and his lips pull back into a thin line. “Me either. That’s logo number seventy-four.”

“I think the top hat is a slight overkill.”

Hmm, I never stopped to consider the name. “Mastodon because female elephants are so protective?” I ask, and he nods. “She doesn’t even have tusks, so she’s an Indian elephant. Why is she wearing a top hat? Is it a political statement of England’s colonization of India?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s supposed to be fancy.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.”

We conclude our meeting with Ms. Hammerstein and, while walking back to the car, I ask, “Why do you do this? Give up your life to hang around us.”

He shrugs and pauses as a car goes by. “It’s what I’m good at. I like making sure people feel safe so they can do their jobs.” Lance opens the car door for me and touches my lower back as he guides me in.

Ignore the way his fingers feel like an electrical fire on my spine. It’s not important.

“Besides,” he says, “where else am I going to learn about the different types of elephants and dinosaurs that aren’t dinosaurs from a woman named after a lake monster who is afraid of Bigfoot.”

“First of all, I’m not afraid of Bigfoot, he’s awesome.” I pause. “Well, when you say it like that, I sound crazy.”

“Your words, not mine.” He smiles and shuts the car door.

ChapterSeven

Lance

I have my concerns about this job. Between the long hours and the lack of another agent to act as a buffer, emotions can begin to blur. Plus the fact Nessie is cute as hell doesn’t help matters either.

When I pull up to the school—in business casual clothes, as per my client’s request—the pick-up line has already started. I get out of the car and stretch my legs, clocking everything from the license plates to the gardener swapping out the summer flowers for mums. From the way he doesn’t seem comfortable with the digging, I’m pegging him as an undercover protection agent hired by the school. Probably in lieu of the snipers on the building.

The intercom speaker announces the end of the day, and agents spill from their cars, ready to pounce, serve and protect as needed. In other words, carry the kids’ backpacks.

The littles come out first, pre-k and kindergarten. Olivia, a.k.a. Rainbow Glitter Sparkles, is surrounded by her crew, as usual. One of her agents is holding an oversized piece of paper with splashes of paint, glitter, and stickers. Another has a pink fuzzy backpack slung over his shoulder. They all try to be as badass as they can while singing some Disney song I can’t place.

I spot Maria right away. She’s a clone of her mom. She runs over to me, waving the same giant paper, her purple unicorn backpack bouncing from side to side. “UNCLE LANCE!”

I’m not her uncle. Alana is her godmother, and it’s easier to explain to the kids we’re brother and sister than roommates. This way, they never assume we’re dating, and we don’t get pestered with those questions.

One of the biggest benefits of not being Secret Service is I can pick Maria up in my arms and swing her around, but she’s heavier than she was a few months ago. “Girl, do you have bricks in your backpack?”

“No…but I do have snacks and picture books and a bunch of toys.” Her face is round, and her perfect pigtails still have the curls her mom probably spent half an hour on this morning. Her large brown eyes are filled with hope and excitement. She’s an easy kid to like. She grabs my cheeks, “Is it true you’re gonna pick me up every day, and I get to ride with the BIG kids?”

“Yep.”

She squeals in a pitch that makes me glad I’m not wearing an earpiece. “Best day ever!”

I let her down and hold her hand as we wait for the others to arrive. It’s a sea of identical uniforms, navy blue everywhere. All older students have the same official backpacks, too. But I think the sparkly ones the littles are allowed to use are more fun. Definitely makes it a lot easier to pick the tinier ones out in the crowd as well.

Champ is next out the door. His head swivels around trying to find someone he recognizes. Maria jumps and yells, “Over here!”

He keeps his head down as he walks and makes it about halfway through the crowd without hitting anyone. Maria finally stops jumping when he stops in front of us, his hands in his pockets. He’s hard to read, I can’t tell if he’s just one of those quiet kids or so overwhelmed with everything he’s shut down. “How did it go?” I ask.

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