Page 23 of Protecting Her

That trust felt heavier than any battlefield command.

"Then we change protocols." Jude fought to keep her voice professional despite their proximity. "No public appearances. No summit meetings without full security sweeps. And you follow every protection measure exactly as written. Deal?"

"Of course, Captain." Carmen's smile held layers of meaning that made Jude's chest tighten. "I trust your judgment completely."

The words hung between them, loaded with everything they couldn't say in front of others. Jude wanted to reach out, to make sure Carmen was really unharmed, to admit that tonight had terrified her in ways no firefight ever had.

Instead, she straightened her spine and gave orders for the night watch rotation. She had a job to do, a diplomat to protect, and feelings she needed to lock away before they got them both killed.

But as her team cleared the room, leaving her alone with surveillance feeds and the ghost of Carmen's perfume, Jude accepted a truth she could no longer deny: keeping Carmen alive had become more than duty.

It had become everything.

And that was the most dangerous security breach of all.

6

CARMEN

Steam clouded the bathroom mirror as Carmen's hands shook while struggling with the zipper of her evening gown. The silk clung to her skin, heavy with sweat and the metallic scent of gunfire that seemed to have seeped into the fabric. A dark smear on the midnight blue material caught her eye—blood from when Jude had shielded her during the firefight.

She closed her eyes, but the memories flashed vivid and violent behind her lids: the glint of the assassin's knife, the fluid grace of Jude's response, and the crack of gunfire against marble. Her fingers found the pendant at her throat, the panic button disguised as jewelry that she hadn't needed to use because Jude had seen the threat coming.

Jude. Even now, Carmen could hear her voice through the bathroom door as she coordinated with her team. The steady authority in her tone carried through the wood, grounding Carmen in the present moment. She'd faced death before in her career—car bombs in Venezuela, snipers in Sudan, firefights in Afghanistan—but something about tonight felt different. More personal, perhaps because of what she and Jude had shared, orbecause she'd watched the knife slice across Jude's cheek and felt her heart stop at the sight of blood.

The zipper finally relented, and the gown pooled at her feet like spilled ink. Carmen stepped out of it carefully, noting how her diplomatic composure had begun to crack around the edges. Her hands still trembled as she turned on the shower, steam rising in billowing clouds that reminded her of gun smoke in the ballroom.

"Carmen?" Jude's voice carried through the door, professional but edged with something more. "Security sweep complete. Do you need—" A pause, weighted with everything they weren't saying. "Do you need anything?"

The question peeled back layers of protocol and pretense, leaving raw honesty in its wake. Carmen pressed her palm against the door, imagining she could feel Jude's presence on the other side.

"I'm all right," she answered, proud of how steady her voice remained despite the tremors running through her body. But the words felt hollow, insufficient against the weight of what they'd survived.

The granite counter was cold under her palms as she steadied herself. In the mirror's remaining clear patch, she studied her reflection: silver threads in dark hair that had come loose from its elegant styling, smudged makeup from the firefight, and the mask of calm beginning to slip. She'd spent decades perfecting that mask, wearing it through peace treaties and war zones. But tonight had cracked something fundamental in her careful control.

When she closed her eyes again, she saw Jude moving through the chaos with lethal precision, felt the strength in her arms as she'd guided Carmen to safety, and remembered how her voice had carried both authority and fear when she'd checked if Carmen was ok in the car.

Steam continued filling the space as Carmen stepped under the shower's spray, letting hot water sluice away the night's adrenaline and fear. But it couldn't wash away the realization that had crystallized during the firefight: she'd stopped seeing Jude as just protection somewhere between Washington and that first kiss on the terrace. Now, the thought of losing her felt like losing gravity itself.

It had been forever since someone had snuck through her defenses like this.

Her last love was Sofia, who she had lost many years ago now to cancer, and honestly, she had never truly wanted anyone since.

Whether it was just the intensity of their situation, or something more true, Carmen couldn’t be sure. All she did know is she was drawn to Captain Jude Smith like iron filings to a magnet.

She heard movement in the suite beyond the bathroom. No doubt it was Jude's team updating security protocols. Radios crackled with status reports, the constant hum of protection that had become the backdrop of her life. But she focused on the sound of Jude's footsteps, recognizing their particular rhythm among the chaos. Even through walls and water, she could tell when Jude passed near the bathroom door, as if some part of her had become attuned to the other woman's presence.

The water ran cold before Carmen finally emerged, wrapping herself in a hotel robe that felt too soft against skin that still hummed with remembered danger. She studied her reflection again, watching composure settle back into place likearmor being donned. But beneath it, something had shifted irrevocably.

She'd spent her career negotiating peace in war zones, finding compromise between opposing forces, and maintaining professional distance no matter the circumstances. Tonight had shattered that distance, leaving her raw and exposed in ways that had nothing to do with physical danger.

When she opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out behind her like a silver curtain, she found Jude waiting exactly as she'd expected. Their eyes met in the suite's dim light, and Carmen saw her own vulnerability reflected in Jude's gaze. The cut on her cheek had been cleaned but not bandaged, an angry red line that made Carmen's chest ache with the need to touch, to heal, to cross the space between them that protocol demanded they maintain.

Instead, she squared her shoulders and prepared to face the security debrief that would follow. But as steam dissipated around them like morning fog, Carmen came to a stark realization that terrified her more than any assassination attempt:

She'd fallen in love with her protector.

And that made her more vulnerable than any bullet ever could.

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