Page 14 of Bodyguard Wolf Shifter
The papers rustled in his hands. "I wish there were more people like you. It would make my job a whole lot easier." He sighed deeply, the chair squeaking in protest to his weight leaning back against it until it was on two legs. "Do you want to tell me what you were doing with Sarah…ahem… I mean Miss Steele?”
He had what most people would conclude as a slip of the tongue. It was possible others wouldn't have recognized it for what it was. This was personal.
"I don't see how that is any of your business," I answered defensively with my fingers curled into fists to illustrate my frustration.
He wagged a finger back and forth in front of me stained with remnants of tobacco underneath his nails. "I thought we were having a friendly conversation."
"It's not my place. My business is with her. If you want to know something about it, then I suggest you talk to her in person. I'm not at liberty to divulge any more information," I answered.
The squeaking chair returned to rattle my nerves until he was back on solid ground again.
"She's in the other room talking up a storm about you. This is your chance to set the story straight. You're only going to get one opportunity to give your side of things. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want anybody speaking for me. That's just me. I guess you could say, I'm a little old school," he said with both palms in the air and his shoulders slightly tensed.
I moved closer in a conspiratorial fashion to give him the impression I was going to tell tales out of school metaphorically speaking. "You're lying. She has enough sense to keep quiet until her lawyer arrives to consult with her. This is a fishing expedition. It's also a little sad," I said softly under my breath.
"I'm not sure I understand," he said while clearing his throat, already giving me more information than intended.
I drummed my fingers on the table. "It's not uncommon. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not sure how your superiors would feel about you sleeping with Miss Steele. They might consider it a conflict of interest on your part."
His face flushed and his anger superseded his good sense and judgment. It was a testament to his fortitude to keep his mouth in check. Others would have gone off the handle and used violence to relieve some of the pressure inside.
"There is no secret we dated but that has nothing to do with this," he said with his hand opening the file folder to show me the empty pages staring back at me.
The folder was for show. He wanted me to be on the edge of my seat.
"Is this some sort of joke? If it is, then I don't get it," I replied with my toes flexed preparing myself to go into fight or flight mode.
"I don't find anything amusing about your lack of background. The military has no record of you on file. Your medals of honor and the Purple Heart are part of the smokescreen. It makes me wonder what kind of man would go to all the trouble to falsify documents. This poses a problem," he said.
"It doesn't pose a problem for me. It might for you, but you don't know all the facts. My career in the military is redacted for a good reason. They can't officially confirm or deny my existence. The rest as they say is above your pay grade," I mocked with a silly little grin on my face.
"They are sending somebody from CID. You don't look worried, however, maybe you should be. Just sit tight and we'll get to the bottom of this. I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation. I know I'm not the only one that would like to hear it," he said with both hands combing through his salt-and-pepper hair.
The man was a grizzled veteran with a penchant for reading a suspect from the moment he entered the room. It was fun to see him completely out of his element.
"I have a right to a phone call," I called out to him before he opened the door to leave.
He turned slowly and placed a cell phone on the table in front of me. "You have 10 minutes. The investigator from CID will be here in less than 30. He seems very interested in your story, or lack of one." The door opened halfway. "There is just one other thing," he said with a finger raised.
Detective Coleman was waiting for the right moment to drop the other shoe.
"I find it highly unusual there is no social media presence. Nobody can go through life without a digital footprint. There is also the matter of the eyewitness. But we will get to that when your lawyer arrives," he concluded with a click of the door.
It sounded like the last nail in my coffin.
Getting out wasn't the problem. Taking my leave unexpectedly would only make me look guilty in their eyes. The best thing was to sit tight. There was one card I had left to play.
I punched in the digits by heart and sent a text message to my “lawyer”. It was going to be very interesting when he got in contact with the right people to expedite matters. He had a firm grasp of the law. Everybody had a part to play.
National Security was a good excuse. There was a precedent to be made but I would need an official cover story. It was there for everybody to read but he seemed unwilling to believe what his eyes told him.
I deleted the message and made sure to scrub the history from the phone. It wasn't mine. He had left it for me most likely out of the mistaken impression I was a fool. He would find no call history and no record of the text message.
A sharp focus went into everything I did. Nothing could be left to chance. Even the possibility of being picked up was already in the back of my mind. It took them a while to get around to it. Word-of-mouth slowly spread among the locals in Los Angeles about strangers in the city.
A quick survey of my surrounding area gave me a good impression of what I was dealing with. There was a guard stationed at the door. He was practically wheezing from a lack of exercise and smoking like a chimney.
Disarming him and rendering him immobile wouldn't take much more than an afterthought. The locking mechanism was quite formidable under other circumstances.
