The Bodyguard Parents Guide Mga Nobela at Kwento

“You’ve been hiding things, Mr. Bucham. Your skills are exceptional, yet you still wanted to join Power Fitness to learn martial arts and be my dad’s student. I think even my dad can’t qualify as your coach.” Julian said embarrassedly, “I was trying to repay my gratitude to you. Yes, I’ve been trained in martial arts since I was young, just like you. Our family is rich. Although we can hire many bodyguards, my parents said that even bodyguards couldn’t protect me if they were to be bribed. They might even stab me in the back.”

“Son, I told you this idea of collaborating with these internet kids was a bad one.” “You’re right, Dad.” “No, wait, Mr. Peterson… this… this is a misunderstanding. It’s this babysitter’s fault, and…” “Bodyguard,” Max said. “What?” the woman asked, worried. “I’m the kids’ personal bodyguard, not their babysitter,” he said, moving his jacket slightly to reveal a firearm. “Because I’m authorized to hurt anyone who tries to harm my little bosses physically or verbally.”

“I didn’t think you were. But I’ll bet dollars to donuts, as my dad would say, that Bodyguard provides you with a daily log.” “It’s not overly detailed,” Nick assures me. “More like a checklist. ‘Made it safely to work?’ Check. ‘Made it safely home?’ Check.” I have to laugh. “That’s not even true.” “Not even.” He enjoys some of his filet, then confides, “I simply need to ensure you’re safe, and I trust—Bodyguard, you call him?—to manage that. However, it was my father who let me know you stopped by. He not only appreciated the company, but he also praised you for taking the initiative.”

Scarface flew backward, slamming into the wall and sliding down like a wet rag. Instantaneously, twelve bodyguards in tactical gear swarmed the shop. Within ten seconds, the other two thugs were pinned to the ground, arms twisted behind their backs. "Dad! Mom!" Harper ignored the pain in her face. She scrambled to her parents, fumbling to untie the ropes. "Don't move! The floor is soaked in gas!" Liam shouted. "Get them out first!" Bodyguards rushed in, cutting the ropes and carrying her parents out to safety. Harper stumbled toward the exit, coughing from the fumes. At the doorway, she crashed into a solid chest. Or rather, someone sitting in a wheelchair blocking the light.

He apologized. As the man eyed us skeptically and retreated back inside, I released my death grip on the bodyguard's jacket, gasping for breath. "That ex-fiancé of mine is in there, torturing my parents to find me," I whispered, my voice lower than usual. "We need to get out of here, he's crazy, and the two of you won’t stand a chance against him." But the bodyguards simply frowned, clenching their fists. "We are not scared of any man," one declared. "We will go in there and save your parents, just wait and see."

Dad instructed. "And bring unwanted attention to myself?" I inquired. "They'll think I'm an FBI agent or something." "Fine, five armed bodyguards," Dad grumbled. "Don't worry about me, Dad," I assured him. "I can take care of myself." "I know you learned from the best martial arts teacher in the world, but I'm not going to risk your safety," He argued. "You're my precious son, and I'll be damned if I'll let even a hair on your head be hurt."

A story of a bodyguard and an artist, a protector and a creator, a partnership that had healed not only their own wounds, but the wounds of the world. A story that, like the horizon over their beloved valley, was endless. The End.

Reed’s suspicious behavior. Jake sobered up immediately. “You think he’s using us?” “Not just using,” I said. “No normal person pays this much to have security guards around his disoriented wife. Especially not different guards, over and over.” Jake’s face fell. “But the money’s life-changing for me. My family’s really struggling right now.” I knew Jake wasn’t a bad guy. He was just under pressure. I patted his shoulder. “The easier the money looks, the deeper the trap.”

"You know what. If you don't like it, you can fucking quit. I don't need you telling me what I can and can't do. And if you're going to get pissed because I want to go out, then you obviously don't need to be my bodyguard." "O, that's not what I meant. I'm worried about you." "I don't give a fuck what you meant. Do your job or I'll tell dad to find someone who will and someone who won't bitch about it. If you want to keep me safe, how about this time don't let me get kidnapped." "That’s not fair Ophelia and you fucking know it." "Shut up and drive. When you drop me off, you are more than welcome to leave," I said, as I crossed my arms and looked out the window.

I wasn’t supposed to be seen sulking due to financial losses that I could cover up for in the space of three months. I’ve vowed never to mourn over anything that doesn’t hold much value to me and I had a group of trained and armed men that deals with my protection in all aspect. But I never made use of them. “Why then was the group created in the first place if you’d do things all by yourself? We never can tell when the enemies tend to strike.” Was what mom would always tell me. And she was right! This is the business world after all. A place of figures and war! Hiring a personal bodyguard was just a cherry on top in terms of being in charge of trained guards.