Page 23 of Close Protection

‘Okay,’ Henry huffs, standing up. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Henry over the years it’s that you can make fun of him all you like, but as soon as you say anything less than positive about his wife, you and he are going to have a problem. And Henry is not the kind of guy you want to rile up.

‘Hard way it is,’ Milosh says, grabbing Daddy’s armand hauling him up with ease. ‘I suggest you treat your daughter with a little more respect, Mr Green.’

‘Let go of me, Mr Petrov. I’m warning you,’ my father slurs, his stern tone spoiled by his obvious inebriation. Clearly Milosh doesn’t care for threats, as in response to this he shoves my father up against the wall, trapping him there with his forearm. Amelia and I both gasp with horror as the room disperses into complete silence and tension.

‘You can threaten me all you want, George, it ain’t gonna change a thing. Don’t. Disrespect. Your. Daughter. It’s really that simple.’ Milosh shrugs. ‘Now, Henry is going to take you upstairs, you’re gonna sleep this off and tomorrow you’re gonna come downstairs and apologize to Daphne and Amelia for your behaviour. Understood?’

Henry walks over to them and starts guiding my father upstairs, leaving me and Amelia to stare at Milosh in disbelief. I don’t think my father has ever been spoken to like that, let alone by someone he employs.

Did I enjoy seeing my father threatened? No, of course not.

However, did something warm settle in my stomach knowing someone was threatening him for my sake? To defend me? Yes.

Without question.

‘How often do things like this happen?’ Milosh asks as he returns to sit next to me, picking his fork back up as if it’s just a regular Thursday.

‘Not often, just when he’s really stressed or upset,’ Amelia answers. ‘He’s not a big drinker, and he does know how he gets when he drinks, but I think he’s just concerned that’s all. I’m sure he’ll be ready to apologize tomorrow.’ Amelia gives me a sympathetic look before turning her attention back to her dinner.

I look over at Milosh to find him gripping his fork awfully tight. ‘What you did was a little… unhinged,’ I start, shifting slightly so I can see more of him. ‘But, thank you. I appreciate it.’

He looks at me, really looks at me, almost as if he’s seeing me for the first time, taking in my statement. ‘My job is to protect you, Miss Green,’ he responds. ‘That includes protecting you from a potentially volatile situation. No matter who or what is the cause.’

12MILOSH

‘Miss Green?’ I say after a few unanswered knocks. It’s 5:30 a.m. and after just over two weeks of daily training, starting promptly at 5:15 a.m., I’m surprised she isn’t up yet. That girl is a stickler for punctuality if I’ve ever seen one.

‘No.’ The word sounds faintly through the door.

‘Miss Green?’ I say again, knocking a little louder this time.

‘Stop, please stop,’ she says, sounding distressed.

‘Daphne?’ I get the spare key to her room out of my pocket.

‘Get off!’ That’s all I need to hear for me to wrench the door open, my heart racing a mile a minute. I haven’t even been here a month and this girl has already caused me a near-heart attack one too many times.

So much for a simple, easy case.

I do a quick survey of the bedroom and its connecting rooms, but can’t see an intruder or any signs of forced entry.I stalk over to her and see that she’s having a bad nightmare. Her sheets are strewn about her bed and her eye mask and headscarf have been ripped off.

‘No, no, no, stop,’ Daphne begs, a tear rolling down her face, still completely fast asleep. Even though it’s just a dream and no one is actually hurting her, it doesn’t stop the pang in my heart or the ache in my lungs at the thought of her in pain, whether real or not.

What the hell is happening to me?

‘Daphne, wake up.’ Kneeling down, I gently shake her arm, trying to ease her out of the dream. I know it’s not a good idea to wake someone mid-nightmare, but I can’t bear the sound of this any longer, or the sight of her crying. Again. ‘Come on, Daphne, wake up,’ I whisper.

Her eyes jolt open and she grabs my forearm.

‘Milosh?’

‘Are you all right?’

She blinks a couple of times, adjusting to her surroundings. ‘Y-yeah, it was just a bad dream.’

I clear my throat, stand up, and settle my face into a look of relative indifference. ‘All right, well, get dressed and come downstairs. You’re late and we have a lot to cover.’ I walk out of her room without looking back and make my way downstairs, needing to assess the situation I’ve gotten myself into.

I don’t get it. I’ve been at this house for under a month and I’ve already broken so many of the unspoken boundaries I put in place when I’m working. Granted, this isn’t a protection detail for middle-aged congressmen, or a military tour. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m slipping. Last night I literally shoved George against a wall and threatened him, all because he was disrespecting Daphne. That has nothing to do with Daveeno, so why did I get involved? As much as I think no woman should ever be disrespected, I’ve never felt the need to be so direct in enforcing that belief. Somehow I’ve gotten a little too invested, but that stops today.

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