Page 10 of Guarding Zuri
“Yeah, right. If you’re this ticked off, she’s hot.”
He’d never admit out loud that her rejection—of hishelp—stung.She didn’t rejectme.I’m off limits.“Doesn’t matter. I’m here to do a job and I’m not leaving until it gets done.”
“You tell her, boss,” Colin’s teasing voice came over the line. “Tell her good.”
Daemon ignored the snickering in the background and wondered if words were the best approach when dealing with a know-it-all like Zuri Msongo. The woman showed no respect for his experience or his friendship with David, someone she clearly trusted.No. She’ll only respect results. Unless she has no choice.
Results he could give her. The latter option he hoped never to exercise. She was right: Bendola was close to liberation. If they could all hang on for a little longer, they’d be free—and he could say goodbye to Zuri forever.
“I’m at base. See you in a minute.” Daemon disconnected the line until he could pull up the video feed inside his command center.
Daemon turned into an alley, the walls of the two tall buildings on either side mere inches from his vehicle. His eyes spotted a black trash bag ahead. The misshapen lump was indicative of items discarded, but he couldn’t be too careful. He applied the car’s brake and weighed his options. He could back out of the alley, get out, and call the IED team to check the contents of the bag before driving on. He stared into the rearview mirror at the car’s backseat. Second option: climb over the front seat, through the vehicle’s trunk, over the top of the vehicle and call the IED team. Or he could assume the bag wasn’t a threat and run right over it.
Daemon gunned the engine. The wheels of the vehicle crushed the bag. A jolt of adrenaline raced through his body. He lived for moments like this; a chance to defy the gods and risk his mortality. After leaving the military, he established Knight Shield for that steady dopamine hit security operation jobs promised—and to stall his father’s wish of him taking the reins of Knight Industries. Sitting behind a desk all day, answering business calls, eyes crossing over financial spreadsheet data—a boring life. His own aims couldn’t be more opposite. David always said he was a little reckless. Never with the life of a client, though.
Another right turn and Daemon pulled into a private parking lot beneath the building his team had bought weeks ago to set up a base of operations in Bendola. He eyed the security cameras and watched the gate and garage door function. Everything was in working order. When the garage was secured, he exited the vehicle, inputted his private passcode into the door lock, and entered the stairwell. Although the building remained fairly vulnerable to outside attack, they upgraded doors and windows to provide some protection. Buying the surrounding buildings also aided in obfuscating their activities.
Daemon walked into the control center and greeted the analysts and other members of the ground team. Analysts mined the internet for information on Gohi, the Elite Guard, the resistance, and other changes affecting Bendola on a diplomatic and state level. In a few minutes, they would present their mid-day assessment and inform the team on any changing atmospherics. Daemon appreciated their attention to detail, knowing he’d go crazy focusing so intently on reading a computer screen.
The building security lead approached. Daemon told him that he’d run over a bag of trash in the alleyway near its entrance. The security lead apologized profusely. He radioed a team member to remove the trash and increase the level of patrols on the street. It was a difficult balance: operating undetected and blending in. A clean alleyway wasn’t common, especially in the urban cities. But Daemon preferred not to run over an explosive device; it would ruin his reputation.
“How’d it go?” Blaine asked upon entering the room. Blaine, one of his advance team members, plopped down in a chair at the table and placed his hands behind the back of his head. His armpits exuded sweat, as did the bandana that hung loosely around his neck.
“Hot outside?” Daemon asked.
“I found it rather temperate.”
Daemon chuckled. He wiped his forehead with his own black bandana, his vehicle’s AC non-existent, like most of the cars on the road. “Not great. Have you heard from Colin?”
Blaine shook his head. “Should I have?”
“At least you didn’t hear it from him.”
“Hear what, Daemon?”
“Zuri—Bayo’s daughter—”
“Yes, the client.”
“She’s not keen on me being her bodyguard.”
Blaine grinned widely. “What happened to that famous charm of yours? She didn’t fall for it, eh?”
“I never claimed to be famous.”
“So, are we packing it in or what?”
The sounds of the analysts’ typing paused, and all eyes were on Daemon. “I don’t scare off that easy. We’re staying until the job’s done. They’re still planning on making the meeting tomorrow.”
“Didn’t you tell them about our assessment?” Parker, an analyst, said in an elevated tone.
Daemon grimaced. He took a seat opposite Blaine and tapped the screen on his tablet, waking it up. “Of course I told them. If Zuri wasn’t there opposing my every word, I might’ve convinced Bayo to hold off until we could secure the site.”
“Wow. Zurireallydidn’t take to you. What’d you do? I know—you insulted her, didn’t you?” Blaine asked with a grin.
“I couldn’t help myself. She’s too haughty for a resistance fighter with a bounty on her head. She has no sense of security and refused to grasp the seriousness of the threat.”
“Hasn’t she with lived this for most of her life? You’d think she’d be cautious.”
