Page 5 of Protecting Her

But as sleep finally approached, Jude's last thought was of Carmen’s dark magnetic eyes that saw more than what she let on and voice that made “Captain” sound like something else entirely.

2

CARMEN

Dawn filtered through Carmen Ruiz’s Georgetown townhouse windows, throwing golden flecks of sunlight on the papers on her desk. Her coffee had grown cold, forgotten beside urgent intelligence briefs marked with the highest priority that demanded her full attention. Another village burned by Nuevo Amanecer and more indigenous families displaced by corporate interests masquerading as progress. The photos felt personal: children huddled in temporary shelters, elders watching generations of history reduced to ash.

She removed her reading glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose where they'd left small indents. She knew the summit wasn't just about peace treaties and corporate contracts. It was aboutthesefaces, these lives caught between power and profit. Twenty-five years of diplomatic service experience had taught her that real change happened in the spaces between official agreements.

Her phone buzzed. Gerard from the UN Security Council. She answered while scanning satellite imagery of Bogotá,mentally taking notes while she processed his concerns about summit security.

"The corporate representatives are demanding closed-door sessions," he said, his French accent thickening with frustration. "They're threatening to withdraw support if we include indigenous observers."

"Let them threaten." Carmen's voice remained steady despite the early hour. "They need this treaty more than they'll admit. We just need to help them save face while?—"

A quick beep interrupted her, indicating another call. Maria Elena, one of the indigenous leaders she'd worked with in Colombia was on the other line.

"I'll call you back, Gerard. Keep the pressure on their PR team."

She pressed a button, switching over to the other call, and seamlessly switched to Maria Elena's native dialect, one she'd learned during previous negotiations. The woman's voice carried decades of struggle beneath its courage.

"The oil companies are pushing harder," Maria Elena said. "Three more families lost their homes last night."

Carmen studied the latest surveillance photos, noting the precision of the destruction. "They're escalating on purpose and using humanitarian corridors as leverage."

"Our people can't wait much longer." Fear crept into Maria Elena's usually stoic tone. "The children are sick from contaminated water, and the aid trucks can't get through. We’re at a crossroads right now and need to take action."

"I'm bringing in our best security team for the summit," Carmen assured her. "Captain Smith's unit has experience with exactly this kind of situation."

She thought of Jude's service record: Yemen, Caracas, Kabul. The way she'd assessed the briefing room yesterday with tactical precision that went beyond mere security protocols. Somethingin her gaze had suggested she understood high stakes beyond just protecting a diplomat.

The DSS agent stationed outside her study did his usual check, a polite knock and brief sweep. Carmen barely noticed anymore; twenty years of protective details had made it routine. But she found herself comparing his methodical movements to Jude's fluid grace yesterday, the way she'd commanded space without dominating it.

Focus, she chided herself. She had displaced families to protect, corruption to expose, and a peace treaty that could prevent more villages from burning to negotiate.

She couldn't afford distractions. Not even ones that came wrapped in quiet competence. The summit briefing would start in an hour, and she needed every diplomatic tool at her disposal.

Her phone buzzed again and kept buzzing all day. Gerard first, then her State Department liaison, then the Colombian ambassador. The morning was filled with the familiar dance of international negotiations, each call a careful balance of pressure and restraint.

But as she prepared to leave for the briefing, Carmen couldn't quite shake the memory of sharp green eyes that saw more than just security risks or of a presence that made her feel simultaneously protected and unsettled. For the first time in her diplomatic career, she wasn't entirely sure how to negotiate her way through what lay ahead.

The DSS team alerted her that her car was ready. She gathered the intelligence briefs, mentally shifting into the role she'd perfected over decades. She had work to do and lives to protect, and there was no room for the strange anticipation that fluttered in her chest at the thought of seeing Captain Jude Smith again.

The State Department's marble halls echoed with her footsteps as Carmen approached the conference room. She couldhear voices already—the distinct timbre of corporate lawyers mixing with diplomatic staff. Through the glass walls, she could see the usual pre-summit gathering: State Department officials in conservative suits, CIA analysts clutching their briefing folders, and representatives from Commerce and Energy trying to look less adversarial than they felt. And Jude, standing by the door in her tactical uniform, ramrod straight and quietly alert. The sight shouldn't have made Carmen's pulse quicken.

Inside, the pre-summit tension crackled like static before a storm. Carmen caught fragments of conversations: concerns about American oil investments, whispered intelligence about arms shipments to Nuevo Amanecer, and debates over how much pressure to apply to Colombian officials.

She set her briefing materials on the podium, keenly aware of Jude's positioning without looking directly at her. Years of diplomatic work had taught her to track details in her peripheral vision—which analysts kept checking their phones, whose body language silently communicated interdepartmental rivalries, which senior officials were already forming alliances. But she found her attention repeatedly drawn to the way Jude shifted her stance when voices rose and how she embodied protective readiness without ever appearing threatening.

"Latest intelligence confirms Nuevo Amanecer has sophisticated backing," Carmen began, her voice pitched to command attention without demanding it. "They're using humanitarian corridors as leverage and blocking aid to communities near US corporate installations."

"Perhaps if our companies had better access to their private security contractors…" The Commerce Department's liaison let the suggestion hang.

Carmen caught the subtle tightening of Jude's jaw, the barely perceptible shift in her body. It echoed Carmen's own carefully hidden reaction to the man's thinly veiled suggestion of military intervention.

"Those same contractors have been implicated in human rights violations." Carmen kept her tone mild but firm. "That could compromise our entire negotiating position." She smiled, the corners of her lips tight, taking the sting from the words while leaving their truth intact. "We need a more nuanced approach."

She felt Jude watching her work, cataloging her diplomatic maneuvers the same way Carmen tracked Jude’s security protocols. When the CIA's regional director started to argue, his face flushing with frustration, Carmen noticed how Jude's hand shifted minutely closer to her weapon. The movement was so subtle that probably no one else caught it, but Carmen found it oddly steadying.

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