Page 9 of Call Sign: King
Too soon, the credits started to roll, and the entire theater was on their feet, giving Khloe and her fellow co-stars a well-deserved standing ovation.
Ryder released her hand and followed everyone’s lead by pushing to his feet to clap. In his clandestine world, a job well done was marked by little more than coming home alive. His chest swelled with pride and love for the woman graciously waving politely to her fans in the balcony who were lucky enough to have been in this early screening.
As a throng of well-wishers rushed in the direction of the key players in the movie, Ryder fought his instincts to step between Khloe and the advancing crowd, instead stepping a few feet away, hoping to meld into the background like a good bodyguard would.
It was on the sideline of the theater he literally bumped into Trevor — the only other man on the planet he felt confident leaving his wife’s safety to.
“That was one of her best performances,” Trevor said. “I knew when they were filming last year it was special.”
“Yeah. She better damn well win this year.”
“She will,” Trevor said sounding as proud as Ryder felt. “And while she deserves it, each notch she raises on the ladder of fame makes our job just that much harder.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Ryder groused, as aggravated today as he had been four years ago by the impossible match between an international celebrity and a deep-cover agent. “As much as I love being here with her tonight, I can’t shake the feeling that it was a mistake to come.”
Ryder tried not to share his fears with Khloe, but he hid nothing from Trevor McLean, his queen’s Royal Guard.
“Your contacts at the CIA gave you a clean report last month, right?”
“Just because the Volkov’s have been wounded, I’ll never count them out — not until Alexi runs them into the ground for good.”
Just thinking about his last mission in Russia put him on edge.
“You said yourself he’s a weak leader compared to his dead cousins. And anyway, you did him a big favor by wiping out his uncle and cousins before getting out of dodge. Alexi never would have gained control of the family like he has without you. But if he’s still a threat, why not just have BSO take him out?”
Trevor asked a question Ryder had found himself contemplating more often these days.
He sighed. “Because killing him would be just another whack-a-mole mission. Someone new would take his place… maybe someone worse. At least I know him — understand how he thinks.
“And anyway, the Volkovs are just one of a dozen crime families that would love to see me six feet under. I may have buried my undercover persona, Nicholai Romanovski, that night I left Moscow, but I spent years infiltrating the worst-of-the-worst criminal networks before retiring from the CIA. I can’t very well take hits out on all of them,” Ryder groused, never taking his eyes off his beaming wife.
“Why not?” Trevor asked.
It was a simple enough question, and in all honesty, it was a solution he had the means and resources to pull off.
“I guess because despite all of the fucked-up shit I’ve done, my moral compass has always pointed squarely in the good-guy direction. Voluntarily taking out dozens of marks I haven’t interacted with in years, just so I can get a better night’s sleep seems like a slippery slope.”
“I get that, and even respect that, but at the end of the day, they’re the bad guys — not you. And certainly not Khloe. I love seeing her this happy. You being here made that happen.”
Ryder caught his wife glancing in his direction as if to make sure he was still there. Her already broad smile grew as their eyes met across the opulent theater. She was like a bright sunny day dazzling radiantly in the still dim lighting of the space. No wonder she was America’s darling. She literally had the power to take a man’s breath away and that included many of the assholes crowding in around her now — hugging her… touching her… kissing her cheek.
“Down boy. She’s doing fine fending them off on her own,” Trevor cautioned next to him. Her longtime bodyguard knew better than anyone how protective Ryder was of his Queen.
“I hate having to sit over here and watch from the sidelines. I want to cut off every one of those asshole’s hands that keep touching her.”
“There’s only one way to make that happen.”
The men had discussed Khloe’s protection ad nauseam over the years.
“And I told you, I’m not prepared to use my resources to assassinate over a dozen criminals even our government hasn’t even seen fit to take down yet. We’re making this work,” he grumbled, wishing it was him hugging his wife instead of her costar.
“We are. But one day, she’s going to want you to step into the light with her, instead of just being happy with you here in the shadows.”
“I’ll deal with that day when I get to it,” Ryder ground out, wanting to change the subject. “I got your email with Khloe’s filming schedule for the next two weeks. I’m not crazy about them going on location in Toronto. We haven’t got as many security protocols in place there.”
“Agreed. I’m taking Michael with us. I assume you’ll approve the added expense?”
“How many times do I need to tell you? You never have to ask me about spending when it comes to her safety. You need my opinion on strategy or planning, sure, but money is the one thing we don’t need to discuss.”
