Page 9 of His Reluctant Savior

“I’m almost done, Little Man. Thanks for being so good for me. Daddy just needs some money before we head out.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

There were too many cameras in this world. Our government watched everything. It wouldn’t take them long to find me here. The primitive need of flight hit me again as I tried to control mynerves, checking the perimeter for people watching me, willing the money to dispense faster.

Once I had the cash safely put inside my locked briefcase, I grabbed my son’s hand and lifted him into the air before he landed on his feet, making him giggle.

“Again, Daddy!”

I chuckled despite the fear and tension knotted in my stomach. “Next time. We’ve got to go.”

I held Owen’s hand, keeping him close as I picked up the briefcase, carrying my security, scanning the crowd in the busy city of Washington, making sure everything was still clear, but I wasn’t an expert, so it was hard to tell.

When I started with the FBI, we were required to undergo basic intensive training, but that was two decades ago. I wasn’t in the field, so I didn’t have the same instincts as other agents. My job was paper-pushing, conducting research, and analyzing.

I kept up with my physical training and the use of firearms, but that was the extent of it.

Owen walked next to me, still holding my hand, as we made our way up a quiet one-way street toward a back alley where I’d parked my car out of the way.

My next stop was car shopping. I only hoped Owen had the patience for it. He was a great kid, but he had his limits when he was bored or tired. It’d already been a long morning.

“Daddy, can we get some ice cream?”

“Sure, Little Man, but later, okay?”

I stopped so suddenly in my tracks that poor Owen slammed into my leg.

“Ouch,Daddy! My nose.”

But I couldn’t deal with Owen at that moment as I stared at the man with a strangely familiar face, leaning on the hood of my car with his ankles crossed. He seemed like an ordinary yet handsome man, wearing a black hoodie with the hood over his head and the sleeves shoved up, exposing tattoos on both forearms. Underneath, he wore a black T-shirt paired with dark-wash jeans and white running shoes. Regardless of his ease and casual attire, he oozed danger.

I dropped the briefcase and pulled out my gun, turned off the safety, and pointed it at him as I tucked Owen behind me. My heart raced, never being faced with danger like this before. It took all my will and years of practice with a gun to keep my hand steady and my heart from exploding.

“Don’t leave my back, Owen.”

“But…”

“Don’t argue with me!”

He wasn’t used to me yelling, so my son started to cry, but my priority was keeping us alive.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” I said to the stranger. But I knew who he was. He was a killer sent to end me.

The man didn’t reach for a gun, nor did he tense at mine as I aimed it right at his head. Instead, his blue eyes gleamed, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.

Owen, now sensing a threat, clung to the back of my leg, sniffling but keeping quiet.

“You don’t recognize me? I’m hurt, Dalt,” said the stranger.

“Answer the fucking question before I put a bullet into your brain.”

His smile turned broader, but he couldn’t taunt me. I wouldn’t let him.

“You wouldn’t do that in front of your son,” he said, as if he knew me.

“Fucking test me!” I growled. “I will doanythingto protect him.”

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