Her Temporary Bodyguard

(Part 5) Chapter Four

If he never saw the back of a dark, musty closet again it would be too soon. Silently cursing his bad luck, Jason tried to shift as quietly as possible so that his face was no longer pressed up against the moth-eaten sweater hanging in front of his face. The closet was over-crowded and clearly missed by any housekeeper in the past decade, at least, but he supposed he should consider that as fortunate for him. He was less likely to be discovered stuffed away as far from the closet door as he could get if it was unused.

Hiding wasn't exactly Jason's forte. He was more of the guns-blazing, storm-chasing kind of guy. The subterfuge and masked mayhem was stressful and overwhelming, as he had learned several years before. It left a man always looking over his shoulder, paranoid of any speck of evidence left in his wake. Still, he hadn't had much choice but to dredge up those old skills. The case he was working, for his still unidentified client, was sensitive. Lucrative as well, but that wasn't why he'd taken it. No, this case had a deeply personal connection for Jason. If only he could find the proof, which he thought he'd find in this house but hadn't, then he could bring down the whole Balboni crime family and their organization. Johnny B would get his comeuppance and Jason could finally have his justice. He was turning over stones and forgoing sleep in his determination to follow this case through to the end. He wanted it so badly, which was why he was somewhat skeptical that his source was legit. Yes, it made sense that his client wanted to remain anonymous to ensure their own safety, but Jason's instincts were telling him that it all felt like an elaborate trap to set him up and bring him down instead. How long had Johnny B been hunting him? It felt like eons, though he'd stopped being scared a long time ago. The end would come. He sensed it was near. Only one of them could come out on top. The other would end up dead.

The sound of footsteps on the floorboards outside the closet ratcheted up the adrenaline pulsing through him. Jason took slow, quiet breaths, forcing himself not to react as something crawled across the back of his neck. He'd broken into the house through the basement after ensuring that it was empty. He'd been disappointed in its semi-dilapidated state, thinking he'd been given the runaround again. Whomever was sending him the emails of information on Johnny B's connection to a human trafficking ring had some serious computer skills. So far the IP addresses had been traced back to Hong Kong and Indonesia. This was the first time that Jenkins, the newest member of Gilbert-Barclay Investigations, had been able to track the address to the United States. It had been years since Jason had set foot in New York, but he'd hopped on the first plane east as soon as he'd had the information in hand.

"We were out of milk," a female voice said quietly, her voice muffled by the walls and the clothing that surrounded Jason.

"I don't give a damn if we're out of water. You do not leave this house, you hear me?" A male voice snapped. The menace and anger were tangible, feeding Jason's instinct to protect and leaving him itching with his inability to jump to the woman's defense. The people moved out of the room, carrying their argument with them. He heard the tone of the conversation more than the words and when the man's shout was proceeded by a loud crash, Jason gave serious consideration to blowing his cover. He stopped only when the front door opened. Listening carefully, he could pick out two new voices, both male. He was good, but not good enough to take on three men who were probably armed especially when he wasn't.

"I thought I told you not to come here," the first man thundered.

"Had to, boss. We're hittin' the road."

"Says who?"

"Orders are from the top. We're headed to Houston."

"Houston? You're kidding."

"Nope. Gotta take over where Remy and Jay screwed up."

"You know what'll happen if you do the same, right?"