Page 1 of Second Chance for Mr. Alden

Chapter One

Alden

Four months earlier

I rolled my neck from side-to-side, eyeing my bed. My head throbbed with pain. So far, I managed not to go too close to it, knowing I’d fall down face first on my black comforter and sleep until morning. I’d been up for almost forty-eight hours on a private detail for a foreign dignitary, with only short stretches of rest over the past five days. My skin was coated in sweat from not bathing in the last twenty-four of those hours, and the odor assaulted my nostrils, reminding me a shower would help more than just my headache.

A friend of mine had reached out when a trio of bodyguards had come down with food poisoning. We got the job done, despite being down men. Not the most ideal situation when you’re protecting someone’s life.

At the end of my last shift, the dignitary flew back home, and I’d returned to Providence. It was good to be back in Rhode Island, and for the first time in months, I was between assignments. I planned to use that time to check up on my sister and sleep. Not necessarily in that order.

I lifted my pant leg to retrieve my gun from the holster strapped to my calf and placed it in the safe under my nightstand. Next, I removed the seven-inch Ka-Bar from the sheath in my other boot and set it next to my gun. When the lock clicked into place, my shoulders relaxed for the first time in days.

I snagged my phone out of my back pocket, tapped the speaker icon to listen to my voicemails, and tossed it onto my bed. My nose wrinkled when I drew my black t-shirt over my head as the stench from the fabric hit me. Bunching it into a ball, I tossed it toward the corner of the room, narrowly missing the hamper.

Shit.

The first four messages were from Lexi. “Hi, Jamie. It’s me, your favorite sister.” Myonlysister chirped for the fourth time. She’d been my responsibility since our parents died nine years ago. It was a good thing I loved her because she was the only one who dared to call me by that nickname.

My shoulder muscles released the additional tension leftover as I thought about her. She was the only person in my life who still called me Jamie, and I felt a longing for the losses of the past every time she called me that. I’d stopped responding to my first name, James, in high school, choosing to go by our last name, Alden. There were at least three other guys named James in my graduating class alone. Using Alden made it easier.

“Just me again, checking in on you. Making sure you’ve gotten out of the house for something other than work. Worried about you. Call or text me. Anything, so I know my big brother is alive.”

I grunted. I got out plenty. Work got me out of the house. But Lexi always worried when I was out of contact for too long. It’s why I only took assignments that lasted less than a week now.

The next two messages from earlier today were from an unfamiliar number. I frowned as silence greeted me in the five to ten second clips. Automatically, I replayed the last message. It only lasted five seconds, but a faint noise broke through, a sigh. Instinct and curiosity had me about to hit redial until I looked at the time. 11:00 p.m. It was too late to call anyone back.

The final message was also from my sister. It was hard not to feel annoyed, but I knew her worry stemmed from losing our parents. But there’s no way she’d lose me, not ever. I’m good at my job. And I needed this job, and others like it, because it provided me the money we needed to survive.

It had let me pay for her college tuition. And it would help me start my own security company. Allow me to be my own boss, give me the freedom to only take on the jobs I wanted, and the time to breathe. I hadn’t stopped since our parents died. Every decision I made was to make sure Lexi had a better life.

I ran my free hand down my face. With each minute, my body dragged a little more. Picking up my phone, I tapped out a message to my sister.

Me: I’m home. I need to get to bed. Call you tomorrow.

Lexi: I’m happy you’re back! Can you call me in the morning? I have a lead on a location for the shop. xoxo

Me: Will do.

I had also told her in no uncertain terms I would help her with the first few month’s rent when she found the ideal location for her fledgling fashion business.

She hated taking money from me, but I was determined she’d have a better life. One full of choices and the ability to do what she loved. I’d waited this long to finance my own business. I could wait a little longer.

I laid my phone down on its charger and headed to the bathroom, turning the shower knob until the stream of water was the right pressure. While it warmed up, I took a bottle of pain reliever from the medicine cabinet and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

A soft rap sounded at the door to my apartment, and I stopped short. Whoever it was probably had the wrong apartment and would leave once they realized it. I grabbed the glass, pressing it against my head, enjoying the coolness of it.

Another knock, louder this time. I put the glass down and shut the cabinet door. At this time of night, it might be my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Garcia. She never seemed to sleep and prided herself in watching over the neighborhood. If I had to guess, she heard me enter my apartment when I arrived home. She lived across the hall. I kept an eye on her and helped out when I could. She returned the favor by watching my place and collecting my mail while I was gone.

I sighed and strode to the door. Taking a look through the peephole, I didn’t see the familiar salt and pepper hair of Mrs. Garcia.

And I never had uninvited guests.

The individual was short, their head likely coming up to the middle of my chest. A curtain of dark, glossy hair that fell to their waist, but that was all I could make out. Their head was turned away, fixated on the staircase.

I jerked open the door, intending to tell whoever it was they had the wrong apartment and to get lost.

Then I realized who I was looking at.

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