Page 24 of Protecting Her

The hotel's secure conference room buzzed with controlled urgency as Carmen entered, her hair still damp from the shower. She'd changed into a charcoal pantsuit—armor of a different kind—but she felt exposed under the fluorescent lights that seemed to highlight every crack in her composure.

Sarah looked up from multiple screens displaying security footage, her expression carefully neutral. "Ma'am, you should rest. We can handle the debrief."

"I need to be here." Carmen kept her voice steady, noting how the team exchanged glances. They weren't used to protectees who insisted on participating in the security analysis. But she hadn't spent twenty-five years in conflict zones by letting others handle the details of her survival.

Jude stood at the command center, coordinating with remote teams through her headset. She'd stripped off her ruined gear but hadn't changed, she was in a tight black T shirt and black combat pants, dirt marring her tanned skin and her green eyes flashing with intensity. Carmen thought as her eyes glanced over Jude’s muscular forearms and strong shoulders that she had never seen anyone more attractive. She also caught the faint scent of gunpowder still clinging to the air around her. Their eyes met briefly across the room, and Carmen saw the argument forming before Jude spoke.

"The State Department is right," Jude said, muting her comms. "You should return to Washington until we?—"

"No." Carmen moved to the central display, studying footage from the summit. "Running now invalidates everything we've worked for. Show me what you've found."

A muscle ticked in Jude's jaw, but she nodded to Kate, who pulled up enhanced images of the assassination team. "Eight confirmed hostiles. All ex-military, probably American Special Operations Forces based on their movement patterns. The 'waiter' was former Delta Force."

"They chose him specifically," Carmen mused, leaning closer to the screen. "Someone knew about Jude's background and anticipated how she'd react to a fellow operative."

The room stilled at her observation. She caught Sarah's approving nod. They hadn't expected a diplomat to notice suchdetails. But Carmen had learned to read between lines and shadows during decades of negotiations.

"The local police response was coordinated," Marcus added, bringing up radio transcripts. "Units were in position before the attack. Someone leaked our routes."

Carmen's fingers traced the glass surface of the display, following the pattern of police blockades that had nearly trapped them. "The same happened in Venezuela last year. Local authorities were compromised, and communication channels were monitored." She paused, remembering all the burning vehicles. "We lost two security teams that day."

Jude moved closer, and Carmen felt the heat of her presence like a physical touch. "You think it's connected?"

"Different players, same playbook." Carmen switched to footage of the corporate security contractors at the summit. "Watch their positioning when the attack begins. They're not surprised; they're ready."

The team studied the footage with new understanding as Carmen pointed out subtle details: the contractors' practiced non-reaction to gunfire, their coordinated movements to block indigenous representatives from leaving, and how they'd maintained line of sight to her position throughout the chaos.

"They're all using American equipment," Sarah noted, zooming in on weapon details. "High-end gear, restricted suppliers."

"The same suppliers that are arming Nuevo Amanecer." Carmen's voice carried decades of experience reading between the lines. "Corporate interests are funding both sides and using humanitarian aid as leverage while their contractors eliminate problems."

Exhaustion began seeping through her professional veneer as the adrenaline crash hit. She gripped the edge of thecommand console, hoping no one noticed how her hands shook. But of course, Jude noticed everything.

"That's enough for tonight." Jude's tone brooked no argument as she stepped closer, shielding Carmen from the team's view. "The rest can wait until morning."

Carmen wanted to protest, to maintain the image of unshakeable composure she'd spent a career perfecting. But fatigue made her armor feel heavy, and the memory of watching that knife slice across Jude's cheek kept replaying behind her eyes.

The team dispersed efficiently, leaving them alone in the conference room. Screens still flickered with surveillance footage, casting blue shadows across Jude's features and highlighting the fresh cut that Carmen's fingers ached to touch.

"You should have gone back to Washington," Jude said softly, close enough now that Carmen could see flecks of gold in her green eyes. "It's not safe here."

"When has that ever stopped me?" Carmen allowed herself to lean against the console, letting Jude see a glimpse of the exhaustion she'd been hiding. "Besides, I have you."

The words hung between them, weighted with everything they weren't saying. Jude's hand moved as if to touch her, then dropped back to her side. Even now, with no one watching, they maintained careful distance.

"You're impossible," Jude murmured, but warmth had crept into her voice. "At least let me escort you back to your room."

Carmen straightened, gathering the last threads of her composure. "Ever the professional, Captain."

But as they walked through empty corridors, their steps falling into natural synchronization, Carmen felt the space between them shrinking with each breath. By the time they reached her suite, the air felt charged with unspoken words and possibilities.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Carmen finally allowed her mask to crack completely. All the fear and want she'd been suppressing rose like a tide, drowning protocol and pretense in its wake.

When she turned to face Jude, she knew her eyes held everything she couldn't say. Everything she shouldn't want but did. Everything that made her both stronger and more vulnerable than she'd ever been.

And in Jude's answering gaze, she saw the same truth reflected back: that some risks were worth taking, even if they shattered every rule of protection and protocol along the way.

The suite felt too quiet after the security team's departure. Carmen watched Jude do one final sweep—a habit born from years of protection detail—while city lights painted shadows across her features. The cut on her cheek shone in the light, a thin line of red that made Carmen's chest ache.

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