Page 28 of Close Protection

‘Where are you from?’ I specify. ‘I know you lived in America, but your voice and your surname suggest you started out somewhere else.’

He glances over at me, catching my eye, a look of conflict passing through his own for a split second before he responds, ‘Bulgaria. I moved to America when I was ten.’

‘Why did you move?’

‘Because I had to,’ he states blankly. I look back at him and consider his odd, vague response, noting the tightgrip he now has on the steering wheel. I know his past is a bit of a touchy subject yet I can’t help wanting to know more. He has such a hard exterior but I know that there’s something softer under that. I’ve seen glimpses of it over the last few weeks.

Pink boxing gloves.

Waking me from my nightmare.

Standing up to my father for me.

The fact that he didn’t raise his voice with me just now, even though he was clearly uncomfortable, speaks volumes.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I just wanted to know a little more about you,’ I say, as we reach a red light. He looks at me with hair-raising intensity, scanning my features as if he’s trying to commit them to memory.

‘I moved to America to live with my aunt after my parents were killed. I lived with her for a year, learning English slowly, before she died. Then, I moved to a children’s home where I stayed until I was sixteen, when I joined the military.’

Ah.

Sothat’swhy he doesn’t like to talk about his past.

‘I thought you had to be seventeen to join the military in the US?’

‘You do, but I saved a boy who was getting beaten up, and it turned out he was the son of a lieutenant and anadmissions officer so they let me in early as a favour.’

‘Did you only join the military to get away from your children’s home?’ Now he’s actually letting me in, I can’t help but keep asking questions. This is the most he’s opened up since I met him, so yes, I’m going to ask until I can’t ask any more.

‘Yes and no. I hated that home, but it taught me some valuable lessons. I joined the military because I wanted to help people.’

‘That’s why you started doing close protection work too?’

He goes silent for a moment. I look at him but his eyes are focused on the road. ‘Something like that.’

I don’t know what happened, but there’s a distinct shift in the air. Attempting to keep the mood light, I continue. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me. You didn’t have to but you chose to anyway and I appreciate that.’ I look over at him, but he keeps his eyes on the road, only dipping his head in acknowledgement.

‘Since you’ve shared something, is there anything you’d like to know about me?’ I suggest, rolling down my window, closing my eyes as I revel in the warm breeze against my skin. Milosh stays quiet for a moment, and I assume he just doesn’t want to know anything more about me, until he shocks me by speaking again.

‘Your nightmares.’ I can hear the hesitation in his voice, but I keep my eyes closed, waiting to hear where he’s going with this. ‘You had one the first day I got here, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ I answer weakly. I know I told Milosh to ask me anything but I’d rather eat my left big toe than go through this with him.

‘Do you eat blueberries after every bad dream?’

‘Yeah.’ I scoff lightly. If there’s one thing about Milosh Petrov, it’s that he’s a heck of an observant guy.

‘Do you get them often?’

‘They started when I was young, and would come once a week roughly. They stopped when I was at school, but as soon as I came back home for the holidays they would start up again. Since the break-in, they’ve got worse, though, coming more frequently and vividly. But it’s always the same dream over and over. That never seems to change.’

We turn into the shopping centre car park and pull into a space. Killing the engine, Milosh turns to look at me. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me.’

One thing I’ve come to appreciate about Milosh is that even though he’s rough and assertive with his words, he always speaks to me with respect and relative kindness whether he’s irritated with me or not.

‘You help me, I help you.’ I smile gently, shrugging ashe gets out of his side, coming around to open the door for me.

We walk towards the entrance in comfortable silence for a moment before Milosh changes the subject to the task at hand. ‘When you go shopping, do you often see people you know?’

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