“We’re waiting for a consignment of wheelchairs, but there is a delay.” Chantal made her last adjustment and moved the right leg, gently feeling around the lady’s severed joint. “How many prosthetics have you worn?”
“About ten.”
“Twelve,” her husband corrected. “They all cause her pain, and I’m tired of seeing my wife in such agony. She can barely walk.”
“Can you stand again?” Chantal helped the fragile woman stand on her good leg, conversing in English with the multi-lingual couple who resided in Colombo. “How does that feel?”
“A little better. I feel relief in my back.”
“Good. I want you to rest while we adjust the prosthetic. I’ll also need to work on your back for the next two months.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Don’t cry, dear. Let’s fit a temporary limb until your next visit.”
Once they’d left, Chantal went to her office and reached for her voice recorder. “54-year-old female. Victim of the Easter Sunday Bombings. Physical evaluation revealed asymmetrical leg length, restricted lumbopelvic motion. The working diagnosis is sacroiliac joint dysfunction, with lumbar facet syndrome secondary to a leg length inequality causing an alteration in gait. Intervention requires chiropractic management, including manipulative therapy to the lumbar spine and pelvis. In addition, the center’s prosthetist will shorten her prosthetic device. Additionally, a wheelchair has been requested.”
Gage appeared in the doorway and waited for her to pack away her recorder. She took her time, first wrapping it in a protective cloth—the device cost over two thousand dollars. Although Chantal could afford luxury equipment, it didn’t mean she’d be careless with her money.
“Don’t you have a recorder app on your phone?”
“Not as reliable. What do you need?” She powered up her laptop and reached for her monitor wipes.
“You—in the break room—ASAP.”
“I’m busy.”
“It’s two o’clock, and you haven’t eaten a thing. Lunch is up.”
“I—”
“Remember what I said about having a healthy principal?”
“Fine.” Chantal switched—grumbling in another language to herself as she followed him out of her office.
“You said ‘bateau.’ Are you speaking French?” Gage asked.
“Yeah.”
“I also speak a little,” Gage confessed. “I’m not well-versed.”
“I’m definitely fluent,” she replied. “Although I’ve grown up in the States, I’m half-French. My father was… nevermind.”
Gage suddenly turned, and she walked straight into his chest. He eased back and held her arms. “I’m sorry about your father. I’ve read about your history and—”
“And he was the best of men. The greatest daddy in the world, but it happened a long time ago. I think and talk about him often.”
“I’m glad.” Gage squeezed her arms. “I lost my mother when I was a kid—and she was the perfect mom.”
“Gage—”
Dropping his hands, he turned on his heel. “Your curry is getting cold, and I can’t promise that a team member won’t claim it.”
Chantal had never seen so many bodies crammed into one room. Bodies filled with testosterone. Alexis stood in the corner, chatting with Gannon, and Chantal recognized her friend’s flirtatious stance. Alexis liked the strapping agent. Gage cleared a path to a table and sat Chantal down like she was a kid.
“Eat. Dishan says this is your favorite.” Gage placed a steaming bowl under her nose, and Chantal grinned in surprise.
“Dishan! Is this from your aunt’s restaurant?”
“Yes, ma’am. Agent Hendrix asked me to recommend a lunch you couldn’t resist.”
Gage joined her at the table and dug into an identical bowl. He sat back and closed his eyes. “Holy shit. This is heaven.”
“I’m a regular at his aunt’s place. Totally yummy.” Chantal poked her fork into the wet rice and polished her bowl as she listened to the easy camaraderie between the teams. The rest of the center’s staff wandered in and joined the lunch party.
A young MSD agent with thick brown hair sat down beside her and peered into his bowl, looking hesitant.
“The curry is good. Try it.”
After cautiously tasting the rice, he smiled. “I like it.”
“What’s your name again?”
“Jason, ma’am.”
“Please don’t call me ma’am. I’m your age.”
“You’re older than Jase.” Gage concentrated on eating. “He’s only twenty-five. Youngest MSD agent on the planet.”
“I may be the youngest, but I ain’t the newest on Team Five. That’s Kohen.”
Chantal glanced at the medic, who sat in a corner. His surly attitude didn’t gel with the rest of the agents. She wondered how Kohen got along with his new team leader.
“You’re from Colorado,” Jason confirmed.
Chantal smiled and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “So are you? I recognize your accent.”
“Whereabouts?” he asked.
“Castle Pines,” she answered.
“Wow. That’s super fancy. I’m from Lincoln Park.”
“I visited Lincoln Park often and loved the arts district.”
“I painted a street mural there once,” Jason said proudly. They chatted about his passion for art.
Gage’s enthusiasm for curry drew Chantal’s attention. He tore off a piece of flatbread, ignoring the crumbs scattering around his bowl as he laughed with Dishan in a debate of Rugby versus American Football.
In one short day, Gage not only had begun to win her over, but he’d done the same with her local guards and the clinic’s staff. The guy was dangerous and deceptively easy-going. She’d heard from Martin that Gage’s MSD team had an excellent reputation, and she could see why. Their leader seemed fair and direct. Yeah—Gage Hendrix was an ignitable stick of dynamite that she should best avoid. After all, he was a diplomatic agent, which meant he’d soon be racing to his next assignment.
After lunch, she stepped into the rehabilitation center and observed the prosthetic training in progress. Her heart squeezed as she watched a group of children familiarize themselves with their new limbs and the training equipment. They varied in ages, from four to twelve years old, and Chantal had worked with all of them over the past months. Some of their parents and relatives sat on the far side and Chantal waved hello.
Most of the kids were victims of landmines. And one had been caught in an extremist attack. All of them were eager to discover their abilities in their new world. Their dedication warmed her heart—a significant contrast to their broken spirits when they’d first visited the center.
Chantal chose a seat as the local therapist interacted with the kids.
“Can I join you?” Alexis sat beside Chantal and smiled. “They’ve come a long way.”
“They have.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m a little tired today.”
“It’s more than that—I can tell.”
“I miss Pearl and little Aysha.” Chantal worried her lip as she watched a tyke fall and jump back up. “Do you ever think about having kids?”
“Not anytime soon. My biological clock is broken.” Alexis glanced at Chantal. “Are you getting broody?”
How did Chantal answer? It wasn’t a secret—just a sad story not worth sharing. “It doesn’t matter. We’re surrounded by children who need all the love we can give.”
“This job. When I first volunteered, I had no idea how rewarding it could be.”
Chantal glanced at her friend. “You’re doing awesome work.”
“Speaking of awesome… we’re surrounded by hunky gods. You gotta admit—your mom’s vocation has its perks.”
Chantal laughed. “Those agents are here for a reason.”
“Maybe two reasons? I like the big guy—Gannon. He looks like he bench-presses trucks. Maybe he could bench press me.”
“Alexis!”
“What? Their chief is also a hottie.”
“He’s called a ‘Team Leader.’” Chantal gritted her teeth.
“A cute team leader. I like his eyes.”
Standing, Chantal forced a smile. “I need to get back to my patients. Calm those hormones and tidy the reception desk. There are files everywhere.”
“Don’t exaggerate.” Alexis kicked her leg. “A couple of extra binders. You’re such a control freak.”
Chantal hated that term, even though she might agree. Her ordered existence was her fortress and now more than ever, she needed to remain focused. Especially with an explosive agent shadowing her every move.
Gage watched Wyatt—the new AIC—open the car door for Chantal, and as she climbed out, he glanced over at his team, who were eager to head to the embassy to stow away equipment and weapons. The sun had already set, and they’d locked up late due to a last-minute patient with ulcerations from his prosthetic. “Wait here.” Gage knew it was wrong, but even though they were in the safe confines of the Jefferson House, he chose to walk Chantal back to her cottage. He headed to her side, and she shot him an odd look. “Are you going home?” he asked. “Yeah. Clean-up time.” “I’ll walk you. Let me take your bag. It looks heavy.” She laughed nervously. “You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable.” “Still, I want to.” She handed it over, and he mock-groaned. “What’s in this thing, bricks?” Chantal laughed. “My planner is the culprit.” “Is your planner a person? Like a
Chantal escorted the elderly gentleman out of the treatment room and directed him to the exit. Happy with the spinal adjustment, he pressed his palms together and bowed. Chantal did the same.“He’s here!” Alexis called from down the passage. “Sunil is outside.”“You saw Sunny?” Chantal turned to the excited blonde, her spirits rising.“He’s waiting in line. He has to be in pain to turn up now.”“Is his sister with him?”Alexis shook her head as they both headed for the front door. Wyatt and Dishan fell in from behind once they saw where the women were heading. Chantal pushed open the doors and followed the line of patrons alongside the building. She hated that patients had to wait for treatment and wished that they had additional staff. Although, the center had more therapists than ever before—there wa
Chantal didn’t have much time. After his therapy session, Sunny slid into the seat and looked around the office. Alexis sat nearby and offered him a reassuring smile.“Thank you, Miss Chantal. My leg feels better.” He clutched the jar of lotion on his lap as he stretched out his sore thigh. The amputation was just above the knee and Chantal hated seeing those blisters from the prosthetic rub. He needed a better artificial limb.He needed everything she hoped she could give him. His worn clothes looked gray and hung off his thin frame. A bruised cheek spoke of a rough life on the streets. He mentioned recently finding accommodation in a hostel, but worried about his sister’s safety.“You look tired, Sunny. How many hours do you work?”He shrugged a thin shoulder. “Too many. I won’t go back to that orphanage. They tried to take my sister away—spli
Fredrik raised his brows at the two large men at the adjacent table. “Do they have to sit on top of us?”Chantal wondered the same thing and forced a smile. Gage insisted on practically sitting by her side and watched Fredrik like he was the Unabomber. Unlike Chantal, her date didn’t seem fazed and flashed a white grin. Fredrik certainly didn’t lack in confidence and wore a well put together suit, which made her feel underdressed in a white t-shirt and jeans. In her defense, she’d added a black blazer, gold earrings, and applied careful make-up that morning. They sat in a fancy Indian restaurant—Chantal had hoped for a casual lunch at a beach café, needing to get back to work. She wondered how Sunny had settled in and took a slow breath to slow her racing heart. The agent beside her flustered her composure which rarely happened. Getting used to her large protective detail was proving to be a big challenge. Perhaps
That evening, Chantal saw to her mom. After massaging the tight muscles behind her mother’s scapula, and shoulder, Chantal walked to the quiet kitchen and made herself a jelly sandwich. After pouring a glass of milk, she walked over to her small residence. Chantal needed privacy and when they’d first moved into the Jefferson House, she’d been pleased to see the small cottage tucked at the back of the yard. Choosing the quaint lodgings over an elaborate bedroom in the main house, was first met with resistance from her mother. But, as much as Chantal loved helping her mother out, at twenty-eight years old, she needed her own space. Many nights, her mom turned clingy, especially when the nightmares came. She’d call and wake Chantal, asking her to come to her room. Chantal would then doze in a chair as her mother either paced restlessly or rambled on about politics.As she walked past the pool, Chantal glanced at the inviting water, and decided to eat her
The rain drummed against the rehab center’s windows, indicating that the southwest monsoon hadn’t yet finished its five-month deluge. Chantal stepped around Alexis, who swiped at a dirty patch with a balding mop. They’d need a new supply after the long rainy season. The muddy parking lot caused issues. Dishan and some of her loitering guards helped to replace an elderly patient’s flat tire in the sludge. Lucius and Kohen escorted a drunk panhandler out of the center, and his shouts grew faint as they walked him down the street. Pausing to straighten a picture frame on the wall, Chantal scanned the packed waiting room. Forgetting about Gage turned out to be an impossible challenge, especially when he knelt to play with a toddler in the corner. The warrior’s shoulder flexed as he reached back to ensure that his weapon sat out of reach, and Chantal paused to stare at his amiable expression as he handed the girl a packet of gummies. God, Gage was good
This was the worst day of his career. The first time that a principal under his watch had gotten hurt. Gage didn’t care about the implications of his vocational fuck-up. All that mattered was Chantal—an individual who he cared for. An innocent woman cornered by a savage hireling.When he’d turned and seen her on the ground, shattered and hurt…Gage wiped a hand over his face as he pieced together what happened. He sat by Chantal’s side in a sectioned off area of the emergency room. She wouldn’t let go of his hand and knowing it might get him into trouble, he still held on. He’d removed his helmet and ran his other hand through his hair.At some point, he’d need to let go and step back. Slip back into an MSD team leader mode. But she wouldn’t allow anyone else near her. And damn, if he didn’t feel as possessive as all hell. Gage should shut down t
Jona walked by the waiting room and smiled at Gage’s raised voice. Team Five had been kicked to the curb and the men looked pissed. The sun had dropped from the sky by the time Jona stepped out onto the rough pavement.Rajin Bandara had made his move. An aggressive and risky move that should make the daughter’s killing a little easier. Easier did not necessarily mean quicker. Twelve years was a long time to stew over a job, and Jona wanted the satisfaction of a personal and drawn-out kill. Would that happen? Anger from that fucked-up day slowly turned to bitterness. Cheated out of the right goodbye with Papa, had Jona blaming the targets. It should have been a glorious win, and Jona should have had the guts to go to the killing grounds alone. It was all about timing and drawing out their demise. Never again would Jona fail on the job. A partnership would result in the required carnage necessary for payback. Rajin hid from the world, but Jona kne