Page 8 of Protecting Her

"We'll find a way." Jude's voice was soothing and showed a glimpse of the woman beneath the warrior. "Your reputation for impossible victories is well earned."

Carmen looked up, caught by the conviction in Jude's tone. "You've reviewed my service record?"

"Thoroughly." Something flickered in Jude's eyes—professional admiration layered with personal interest she couldn't quite hide. "Your negotiations in Paraguay, Venezuela, even Afghanistan, you see patterns that others miss."

"And you?" Carmen found herself stepping closer, drawn by that carefully controlled heat in Jude's gaze. "The way you read tactical situations, how you anticipate threats before they materialize. Yemen wasn't just luck, was it?"

"No, ma'am." Jude's voice dropped lower, intimate in the lamp-lit study. "In the same way that your negotiation victories aren't luck."

They stood close enough now that Carmen could see the faint scar near Jude's temple and could trace the sharp line of her jaw. Their professional pretense felt tissue-thin, stretched between them like silk ready to tear.

"We should review the security implications," Jude said, but she made no move to step back. Her eyes dropped briefly to Carmen's lips before returning to her gaze, the glimpse of desire so quick Carmen might have missed it if she hadn't been watching for it.

"Of course." Carmen forced herself to move away, gathering documents with hands that wanted to reach for something else entirely. "I'll have my office coordinate with your team first thing tomorrow."

Jude nodded, sliding her professional mask back into place. But as she turned to leave, Carmen caught her reflection in the window and noticed the way her eyes lingered and how her hand gripped the doorknob a moment longer than necessary. The small tells that pointed to proof of mutual attraction hit Carmen like wind before a storm, thrilling and dangerous.

After Jude left, Carmen stood at her study window, watching the younger woman's figure disappear into the Georgetown night. The scotch in her glass caught the lamplight like amber, and she found herself remembering how Jude's fingers had felt against hers, the way her voice changed when the professional distance cracked.

She had a peace treaty to negotiate, communities to protect, and corruption to expose. She couldn't afford complications, couldn't risk distractions when lives hung in the balance.

But alone in her lamp-lit study, Carmen finally admitted what she'd been fighting all day: this protection detail had become more than professional. And judging by the heat in Jude's eyes before she left, the attraction wasn't one-sided.

The realization should have concerned her. Instead, it felt like stepping off a cliff and finding wings.

3

JUDE

Bogotá's morning air bit cold. "Tell me about Yemen," Carmen said quietly. "Not the official report. What really happened."

Jude's hand tightened around her glass. "What makes you think there's more to it?"

"Because I've read enough sanitized reports to know they hide the reality.” Carmen turned, studying her at this altitude, the Andes' shadows to the east still holding the night's chill. Jude circled the armored BMW, her body running on caffeine and training after the overnight flight. Every vehicle check was completed with muscle memory now: tire pressure, armor plating, door seals. Yemen had taught her to trust no one's work but her own.

The private hangar still held traces of their midnight arrival: jet engines cooling, ground crew moving with practiced efficiency, and the lingering scent of aviation fuel. Jude had watched Carmen descend the aircraft steps with her grace intact despite the late hour, somehow managing to look elegant even after six hours in the air. They'd shared only professional words since departing DC, but Jude had felt every accidental brush ofshoulders during the flight's turbulent moments and cataloged every quiet breath when Carmen had finally dozed off in their private plane.

"Perimeter clear," Sarah's voice came through her earpiece, pulling Jude back to the present. "Morning traffic patterns are normal for the route."

Jude acknowledged Sarah’s report with a quick tap of her mic as she scanned the hangar's shadows. Their arrival had been confidential—routed through secure channels with a carefully crafted flight plan—but she'd learned that information had a way of leaking in war zones, and Bogotá was definitely a war zone beneath its cosmopolitan surface. The local security forces had been too eager to help and too interested in their movements. She'd seen that kind of attention before in Caracas . . . right before everything went wrong.

"Three-vehicle convoy is ready," Marcus reported from the driver's seat. "Kate's got surveillance drones up giving us eyes overhead."

Jude nodded, checking her weapon for the third time. The weight of her tactical vest felt heavier here where the altitude made every movement cost more energy. Or maybe it was the weight of watching Carmen move through her morning briefing with the local embassy staff, her voice carrying that particular tone of authority that somehow managed to make Jude's pulse quicken, even while discussing threat assessments.

The click of heels on concrete made her look up. Carmen approached with her usual composure, but Jude noticed the subtle signs of fatigue from travel—a slight softness to her usual precision and the way she held her coffee cup like armor against the morning. Even tired, she commanded attention without demanding it, her charcoal suit and silk blouse a stark contrast to their security gear.

"All clear, Captain?" Carmen's voice carried warmth despite the fatigue Jude could read in the slight tension around her eyes. The overnight flight had been rough with unexpected turbulence that had their security teams constantly recalculating threat scenarios.

"Vehicle's secure, ma'am." Jude opened the rear door, positioning herself to shield Carmen from potential vulnerabilities. Their eyes met briefly, and Jude fought against remembering how Carmen had instinctively gripped her arm during the worst of the turbulence on the plane. "We'll take the alternate route to the hotel."

Carmen slid into the backseat with practiced ease, and Jude caught a whisper of her perfume—something elegant that made the armored car feel suddenly smaller and more intimate. Marcus took the driver's seat while Jude rode shotgun, her body angled to watch both the road ahead and Carmen's reflection in the rearview mirror.

They merged into morning traffic, the city slowly waking around them. Bogotá's streets were already filling up with vendors setting up stalls, business people hurrying to their offices, and the constant dance of motorcycles weaving between lanes. Through her earpiece, Jude monitored her team's positioning: Sarah and Kate in the follow vehicle behind them, David coordinating surveillance from their temporary command center, and James on standby at the hotel.

"How long were you stationed here before during the last coup attempt?" Carmen asked, her voice carrying that diplomat's gift for making conversation sound both casual and purposeful.

"Three months," Jude answered, somehow unsurprised that Carmen had read that detail in her file and suspected she already knew the answer. "Mostly intelligence gathering on cartel movements near the embassy."

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