Page 6 of Protecting Her

The morning wore on with Carmen orchestrating the delicate dance between competing US interests. She poured water into her glass, and her hand trembled slightly—exhaustion from too many late nights reviewing intelligence briefs. In the reflection of the wall-mounted screens, she saw Jude notice. Their eyes met briefly in the dark glass, and Carmen felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with security surveillance.

"The summit location presents unique challenges," the state's regional director was saying. "Our intelligence suggests?—"

"That someone's arming both sides?" Carmen kept her tone mild, but she saw Jude's slight nod of confirmation. "Perhaps we should discuss which American interests might benefit from prolonged conflict."

The Commerce representatives shifted uncomfortably. Carmen leveraged their discomfort, building pressure with carefully chosen silences and pointed questions, all while being increasingly aware of Jude's presence behind her—solid, steady, somehow both unsettling and grounding.

When satellite images showed the devastation near American oil installations, Carmen translated the humanitarian crisis into language Washington understood: regional stability, resource security, and investment protection. But she heard the deeper implications beneath their discussions of "acceptable losses," and in the screen's reflection, she saw that Jude did too.

The pre-summit meeting ended with provisional strategies and interagency tensions wrapped in diplomatic courtesy. As the conference room emptied, Carmen gathered her notes, hyperaware of Jude's continued presence by the door. Their eyes met again, this time directly, and Carmen felt that same flutter of connection that both steadied and unnerved her.

The age gap between them should have mattered- Carmen knew from Jude’s file she was 39 years old to Carmen’s own 54. The different worlds they occupied—diplomat and warrior—should have created distance. Instead, Carmen found herself fighting the urge to bridge that distance, to explore why Jude's protective presence affected her so differently than any security detail before.

She broke eye contact and looked away first, focusing on organizing briefing materials instead of analyzing the warmththat bloomed in her chest when Jude stepped closer to quietly discuss the afternoon's security arrangements. She had a peace treaty to negotiate. She couldn't afford to negotiate the complexity of her own reactions to her new security detail.

But as they walked out together, their steps falling into natural synchronization, Carmen wondered if she was already losing that particular negotiation.

After the briefing, Carmen retreated to her State Department office, where warm afternoon light slanted through bulletproof windows. The day's tensions lingered in her shoulders as she reviewed intelligence updates from Bogotá. More villages evacuated, more families displaced. The peace treaty couldn't wait much longer.

A knock at her door made her look up. Jude stood in the doorway, a stack of files under her arm. "Ma'am, do you have time to review the travel itinerary protocols?"

Carmen gestured to the chair across from her desk, noting how Jude chose to keep her guard up and stand instead, always positioning herself to watch both the door and windows, even here in one of the most secure buildings in DC. The tactical awareness should have made Carmen feel watched. Instead, she felt protected in a way that went beyond mere security.

"The advance team's latest report," Jude said, laying out documents with precision. "We'll need to adjust our arrival schedule. Local intelligence suggests increased surveillance of diplomatic vehicles from the airport."

Carmen studied the security diagrams and maps annotated with potential choke points and ambush zones. The familiar geography of Bogotá transformed into a strategic grid underJude's analysis. Her attention caught on a mission patch illustration in the corner of one report: Third Marine Division, South Pacific operations.

"My father served with them," Carmen said quietly, touching the insignia. "Before he transferred to diplomatic security."

Jude's eyes sharpened with interest. "Your father was in the Marine Corps?"

"Twenty-three years. He actually helped establish some of the first embassy protection protocols in South America." Carmen smiled at the memory. "I spent my childhood moving between bases and embassies. Learned to speak Spanish from the local guards before I learned it in school."

Something in Jude's posture softened almost imperceptibly. "My father was a Marine too. Second Battalion, First Marines."

"Force Recon?"

Jude's eyebrow lifted slightly at Carmen's knowledge of Marine Corps units. "Yes, ma'am."

"I remember them." Carmen's voice gentled. "They ran joint operations with embassy security when I was growing up. The way they moved, it was like shadows with purpose. I used to watch them train from my bedroom window on the compound."

Their eyes met across the desk, and Carmen saw something crack in Jude's professional mask. "My father died in Afghanistan," Jude said quietly. "2010."

"Helmand Province?" When Jude nodded, Carmen continued, "I was working peace negotiations there that year. Lost three good men from my security detail in an ambush."

Understanding passed between them—the weight of service and sacrifice, of lives given to protect others. Carmen found herself studying the small scar near Jude's temple, wondering which battlefield had left that mark. The sharp line of her jaw alluded to strength held in careful check. But it was her eyes that drew Carmen's attention—green with flecks of brown and gold inthe afternoon light, holding depths of experience that belied her younger age.

Jude cleared her throat softly, returning them to the travel briefing. But something had shifted in the air between them, professional distance warmed by shared understanding.

They reviewed evacuation routes and safe house locations, Carmen noting how Jude had already memorized every detail. Their hands brushed as they reached for the same document, and Carmen felt that contact like electricity snaking up her arm. She caught Jude's slight intake of breath, the first hint that she might not be alone in this growing awareness.

"The hotel's security feeds will route through our encrypted channels," Jude continued, her voice steady despite the lingering warmth where their fingers had touched. "My team's already sweeping for surveillance devices."

Carmen found herself observing and noting the way Jude moved as she laid out more tactical maps—the fluid precision that spoke of years of combat training and how she managed to project both lethal capability and careful restraint. She caught herself memorizing details she had no professional need to know: the way Jude's short dark hair curled slightly at her neck, how her tactical uniform stretched taut across strong shoulders, the subtle shifts in her expression as she outlined security measures.

"We'll need to maintain radio contact at all times," Jude was saying. "The pendant I mentioned yesterday?—"

"Will connect directly to your frequency?" Carmen finished, surprised at how much of yesterday's briefing she'd retained. Usually, security details blurred together in her memory.

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