Page 10 of ELITE Protection
“You killed the heir apparent? The guy who would take over ISIS if we finally managed to kill al-Baghdadi?” Isaac closed his eyes and dropped his head on the back of the couch. “Oh, fuck,” he said just above a whisper.
“I didn’t shoot him,” Hannah corrected. “I… All I did… Oh, hell. It’s a long story.”
Isaac rolled his head to look down the couch at her. “I’m listening.”
No. She’d already said too much. He knew ISIS was after her and it was his job to keep her safe. He didn’t really need to know what an immature idiot she’d been. How easily she had been deceived and, without knowing it, had put thousands of others in danger.
“Maybe some other time.” She downed the last of her bourbon, loving the burn from her throat to her stomach. She could almost feel the alcohol move throughout her body, warming and relaxing her at the same time. Suddenly she was tired. “I’m going to bed.”
Isaac tossed back the last few drops in his glass. “I’m going to do a perimeter check.” He stood, snatching the gun from the table, and stared at her. “Don’t shoot me.”
She couldn’t stand the way he looked down at her, so she stood and straightened her shoulders. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked away. Without glancing back, she called out to him, “You promised to make breakfast. I like my coffee with two sugars. The real stuff, not that imitation shit.”
When she turned into her bedroom, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rinse their glasses and place them in the dishwasher.
Some woman had trained him well.
CHAPTER5
Isaac didn’t wantanyone else to ride up the four-seat chairlift with them. He placed his pole so the woman next to him tilted over, falling into her friend.
“Come on, we can still make it.” He and Hannah slid onto the loading platform, each reaching back to grab the rapidly approaching seat. Expertly dropping into position, Hannah pulled down the security bar.
“That wasn’t very nice,” she chastised, but then grinned. “I’m not sure I could’ve handled listening to Chatty Cathy and Ditzy Dottie another minute.”
Isaac had to agree. The two women hadn’t shut up since they’d skied into the long lift line seconds behind Hannah and him. If he had to listen to another word about designer purses, he was going to pull the gun from his back and give everyone around them relief from their high-pitched voices. Obviously, no one had taught those women skiing etiquette because they constantly ran their rental skis over the top of his brand-new Völkls. He had never been able to own such a fine pair of skis and would not have those if it weren’t for his Guardian Security expense account.
The chair lifted them fifty feet above the ground. They were now completely alone and headed to the top of the mountain. Hannah had proven herself by dodging beginners on the novice slope, then again by gracefully handling an easy intermediate run. This time they would tackle a short black diamond before taking one of the more difficult intermediate slopes to the bottom. His confidence in her abilities had grown with each trip down.
Jumping right into what he needed to know, Isaac asked, “Have your parents owned the house we’re staying in for very long?”
“Yes, and no.” Hannah went on to explain. “When we were little, my parents and several other doctors from Atlanta went in together to buy the house under a corporation name. Eventually, my parents bought the others out. About two years ago, while my sister was clerking for a law office, she convinced my parents to reconfigure the corporation, removing their names.” Hannah shrugged. “It all has to do with taxes, investments, and stuff I don’t really care to learn. It’s my parents’ money. They can do whatever they want with it.”
Clarifying, Isaac asked, “So there’s no way this house could be traced to your parents?”
“As far as I know, it will appear as though my parents sold the house over a year ago. At least that’s what my sister said when she suggested I come here.” Her lips drew in a straight line. “They wanted to protect me and felt this was the safest place for me to be. That’s when they contacted your office. They also stepped-up security for all of us.”
Isaac looked at her for a long time. There was much more to that story, and he needed to know what specifically had happened. Something had forced her into hiding. “Tell me why.”
Hannah looked down on the treetops as the lift bumped over several towers. “I’m sure you know about my mom’s attack.”
He nodded. “That was in the file.”
“A few days after that, my dad didn’t come home right after work like usual. We were all concerned that he’d gone after the men who had hurt Mom.” She shook her head. “The opposite had happened. Dad had been jerked from his car in the parking lot at the CDC, beaten severely, then thrown in our front yard the next morning.” She swallowed hard. “There was…they’d nailed a warning to his chest.” Her voice broke.
Isaac wanted to take her in his arms and assure her that he would protect her with his life. But he couldn’t do that. She was a client, and he had to remain professional, even though the look in her eyes was hot and needy the night before when he’d walked out of the shower.
Refocusing, he had to know what the note said. “Go on.”
She took a deep breath of the frigid air and let it out slowly, a white stream condensing in front of her. “It was written in Arabic.Turn over the Syrian whore, or next time he’s dead.”
“What did the police say about your father’s assault and murder threat?” Isaac was furious. He had spent years fighting overseas to protect people back home, yet the threat to American lives had made it to the United States.
Hannah sniffed. “We never called the police. They didn’t do shit when my mom was attacked, why should we expect anything different because it was my dad?”
The Guardian Security report hadn’t included her father’s kidnapping and assault. Isaac locked the details in his memory. He would have to add it when they got back to the house.
She watched a skier pass underneath them. “I had to leave to protect my family. Homeland Security wanted to put me into the Witness Protection Program, but my mother wouldn’t allow it. Even while I was in Syria, we talked all the time. At least once a week we’d Skype just so we could see each other.”
