Page 65 of Merciless Protector

“I get it now.”

He looked up and crooked a half smile. “I heard the lovebug hit you.”

“I don’t know if the word is love, but I see how different my feelings are for Tayla than they ever were for Bailey.”

“You’re in love,” he said.

“How would you know? And I’m not even sure it’s at that level.”

“Have you been able to stop thinking about her since you left?”

I didn’t have to think long on that answer. “Maybe it’s an obsession,” I jokingly said.

Kalen took me seriously. “If you were obsessed, you would be thinking about only you. Not her. And I dare say you are putting yourself in the line of fire for her. Connor and I did the same.”

He was right about that. He closed his laptop and leaned back, crossing his arms. “I know it may seem like a cliché, but sometimes you just know. When I first met Bailey, I knew she was the one, even though I didn’t want to acknowledge it. But I’ll tell you, it’s a feeling like no other.”

Similar story to the one Connor told.

I nodded, taking in his words. “Should I tell her?”

Kalen chuckled. “Trust me, I’m not one for giving relationship advice. But I do know that life is too short to hold back how you feel. You never know what could happen.”

I thought a lot about what he said before drifting off. It was a short flight, so my nap was brief. Soon, I exited the plane and because we landed at an FBO, I hoofed it to long-term parking. From there, I caught a shuttle back to the main airport terminal. I entered on the upper level for departures. I went to the lower-level men’s restroom and changed clothes. Before I exited, I bought a baseball hat, put it on, and then went out to get a taxi. Hopefully, all of that would mask my appearance at the airport.

When the cab arrived at my old apartment, it was go time. Though I walked casually to the door, I was on high alert for anything. Jovial smiles at the passersby on the sidewalk were a mask for shrewdly assessing every individual as a threat.

My building wasn’t fancy, chosen for that very reason. My persona as Shawn, a corrupt cop with the Chicago PD, didn’t afford me luxuries. Therefore, Shawn had gone to work off duty with the notorious crime boss, Nicolas Cortez.

I jogged up three flights of stairs and avoided the elevator. I wasn’t packing and didn’t want to be confined with a hired killer if that was in store for me. I wouldn’t stand a chance in that situation.

At my door, I reached below the mat for a key. It was the most cliché hiding spot, and why it was chosen. Normally, it wouldn’t be there. But my handler had put it there so I could access it. I had cameras installed in the hallway light fixture overhead. One pointed at my door at one end, and the other camera aimed down the hallway. I’d checked them during the cab ride over. The only person who had come to my door in the last twenty-four hours was my handler.

I entered the apartment and immediately felt a sense of comfort. It would be an odd feeling to some, as I’d only been living here for a few years, but this place had come to feel like home to me during that time.

In the middle of the room stood a worn mocha leather sofa. It faced a flat-screen TV on the right affixed to an exposed brick wall. A bookshelf was to the left of the TV and held titles I’d never read and other knickknacks to give the appearance of home.

To the right of that was what could only be described as a kitchenette. It sported a small two-burner stovetop and tiny oven combo and a vintage refrigerator that looked like it was made in the seventies.

The other half of the room to my left held my bed with a nightstand on the right. The only other door was on that side and led to a compact bathroom, barely big enough for one. Everything had been carefully organized to maximize the tiny living area.

I headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower at maximum temperature. Steam was called for, given what I was about to do next. This apartment was most certainly bugged, either by the feds or someone after me. In the past, I’d swept for such things on a daily basis, but I was without my toys and needed something I had hidden in the bathroom if my colleagues hadn’t found it.

When the room filled with a misty haze, I came in, dropped my bag on the floor, and closed the door. I got to my knees on the pretext of getting something out of my bag, assuming I could still be seen. Then I slowly opened the bathroom cabinet door, hoping not to make a sound as the steam should shield me.

I pressed hard on the back wall of the cabinet and a tiny click happened as the false panel was released. I lowered it some and reached in to find the semiautomatic Ruger Mark IV and full clip that I had hidden there, along with the suppressor. As soundless as I could, I moved the false panel back in place before I put the clip in the Ruger, but not all the way and screwed on the suppressor. I left it all in my bag and stood up. I still needed a shower and took advantage of the steamy water. It scalded my skin, but I welcomed the ability to feel. I’d been numb since leaving Tayla. Once I eliminated the threat, I would beg her for forgiveness for leaving.

Once changed into fresh clothes, I went back into the main area and left my bag purposefully placed near the door with the gun almost ready to go with only a T-shirt covering it.

“I need to do laundry,” I murmured to no one but for the ears of whoever was listening. It was the truth and also explained to anyone watching why I’d left my bag near the door and not by the chest of drawers next to the bathroom.

For all I knew, no one was listening or watching, but better safe than sorry. I relaxed on my sofa, even though I was anything but. I tapped on my phone, opened a food delivery app and placed an order with my favorite Italian restaurant. As I was about to put my phone down, it vibrated with a movement alert. I opened the website for the camera and got a view of my hallway. A figure in black moved toward my door. At this point, I ignored the possibility that I was being watched.

I dashed for the bathroom and turned on the shower. It was still foggy in there and would provide the cover I was hoping for. The bathroom wasn’t where I planned to be. I made for my bag before ultimately ending up to the right of the door opposite where my bag was. I’d grabbed the gun, holding the magazine so it wouldn’t fall out. It was too late to push the clip in without being heard.

As I suspected, the intruder didn’t knock. The handle moved slowly until it met resistance. There was a light knock as if the person was testing if I was within hearing range. A minute later, I heard tools and looked over at where I’d left my phone. In seconds, the door clicked open since I hadn’t used the dead bolt. The door opened slowly, concealing my position behind it.

The figure in dark clothing glanced around before their attention focused on the bathroom, where steam billowed out. As they crept toward that door, I slowly stepped around behind them. Before they got to the bathroom, I clicked the magazine in place. Too late, they spun around, but my gun was aimed squarely at their forehead.

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