Jenna’s Protector (Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists: CHARLIE Team #4)

1. Carter

ONE

Carter

I flip through the case files of three girls who have disappeared, frustration gnawing at me. No leads, no witnesses, no resources. Just broken homes, pretty faces, and troubled pasts—girls nobody would miss.

A runaway, a druggie, and a thief.

The system failed them, and now they’re gone.

Sitting at my dingy, rusted government-issue desk, I rub my temples, trying to ease the headache that’s been building all morning. The budget constraints are suffocating, making it nearly impossible to gather the resources I need for this case.

Correction. There’s no nearly impossible about any of this. It’s simply, exhaustingly impossible .

Leaning back, I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a frustrated breath. All I have are empty leads and fruitless dead ends.

The office around me is a testament to the lack of funding—cracked linoleum floors, flickering fluorescent lights, and walls stained with years of neglect. The musty smell of old papers and dust fills the air, mixing with the faint scent of stale coffee from the pot that’s been sitting for hours .

Max, my loyal German Shepherd, sits by my side. His expressive eyes watch me intently. I reach down and scratch behind his ears.

“At least I’ve got you, buddy.”

He wags his tail in response, a small comfort amongst the chaos.

I grab my phone, needing to talk to someone who can help me make sense of this. I dial my brother, who works for an organization with extensive resources—resources I don’t have but would kill to utilize in this case.

Sadly, that is not the way of things.

“Hey, troublemaker, what’s the crisis this time?” My twin brother picks up, his voice dripping with its usual sarcasm.

Max’s ears perk up at the sound of Blake’s voice. An eager whine escapes his dark muzzle, followed by a quick thumping of his tail—Max loves Blake and hasn’t seen him in a while.

“Another one’s gone missing. Fifteen years old. No leads. I’m hitting a wall here.”

“Man, that sucks. Look, I don’t know if this will help or not, but I was talking to the team the other night, telling them about your disappearances, and I might have something for you.” Blake’s voice is steady, but concern weaves through each word.

“Might?” I sit up straight, suddenly alert and eager for any scrap that might give me a direction on where to go next. “Shit, that’s a whole lot more than I have right now.”

“You need to talk to Forest.”

“Forest?” I frown. “Forest, who?”

“Dude, I’ve told you about Forest. The creator of Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists?” When I don’t respond, Blake continues. “The dude is otherworld smart. Operates on a whole other plane of existence than us mere mortals.”

I won’t say it to Blake, but that’s a bit over the top, even for me.

“Hero worship much?” I don’t do that kind of shit.

“Whatever, dude,” Blake continues, non-plussed. “He overheard my conversation with the guys and said he might have some information that could help.”

“Shit, I’ll take whatever he has.” I sigh, feeling the weight of my frustration. It’s not the solid lead I need, but it’s better than the shit- for-nothing I’ve compiled on the girls’ disappearances. “Give me his contact info, and I’ll call him. Thanks.”

“I’m not saying it’ll help, but Forest doesn’t poke his nose into something without a reason.”

“Would be wonderful if this was a case you guys were working instead of me. Got hit with budget cuts again. I’ve got piss-poor resources and a lack of staff.”

Which is all to say: I’ve got Max.

My dog.

Sure, there are other detectives, but like me, they’re buried under a mountain of paperwork. We have receptionists who answer the phones and track down information as they can. The beat cops are tired, stuck in a job that should make them heroes, but their contributions are devalued under a wave of public opinion and outcry over a few unfortunate events and bad apples that have left their stain on our profession.

“You know the Guardians only take on certain cases—hostage rescue and human trafficking. We’re not really into the missing person’s gig.” Blake chuckles, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

“You sure about that?” I can’t help but challenge him. “All of your cases are about those who’ve been taken—aka missing. You literally work missing persons.”

“Not gonna split hairs with you— again , but you always have an open invite to join us. Better resources, better support… Or you can keep being dissatisfied with what you’ve got.”

I grit my teeth, the familiar argument bubbling up. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Just—give me Forest’s info.”

“I’m serious. We could use someone like you.” Blake’s tone softens. “Guardian HRS is always hiring good men. Think about it.”

“I don’t have all the fancy-schmancy SEAL training you have. I’m just an average Joe, doing what I can to protect and serve.”

“Team skills can be taught. Your detective nose, however, that’s a true gift. Honestly, we could use someone with your abilities.”

“I’ll think about it,” I mutter, already dreading the empty promises of my current job. “Thanks, Blake. ”

Max nudges my hand, sensing my frustration. He looks up at me with his expressive eyes. I swear the mutt can read my mind.

“Don’t worry, boy. We’ll figure this out.”

I dial Forest’s number.

He answers on the second ring.

“Carter Jackson?”

“Yes.”

“I take it you spoke to Blake.” The man’s voice is deep. Not a baritone, but octaves lower. He sounds like boulders grinding against each other.

“He said you have something for me.”

“I do, but first, I need you to promise me you’ll be discreet.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“There’s someone you need to talk to, but I hesitate to give out her name.”

“You have a lead?”

“Maybe. Jenna was never forthcoming about what happened, but I’ve got a sense about these things.”

“Jenna?” Surely, he can’t mean…

“Jenna Marlowe. I think you know her.”

Holy fucking shit, do I know Jenna Marlowe. Just the mention of her name makes my stomach clench and heart race.

“I do.”

“Well, she may or may not be connected to these cases in a way that could be crucial.”

I lean back in my chair, processing his words. “Tall, long black hair, alluring green eyes?” He can’t mean my Jenna.

Not that she’s mine. I’ve yet to work up the courage to ask her out.

My days begin and end at Jenna’s café. They begin with a stout coffee—that I don’t particularly like—and end with a pathetic run-in to grab one of her savory sandwiches for my evening meal.

Always takeout.

“Yes, Lover Boy,” Forest chuckles. “That’s her. She has a past that might be connected to these disappearances. It’s not an easy story, and it’s something she goes to great lengths to keep hidden, but her insight could be invaluable. More likely than not, she’s going to hate I said anything at all, and when you do bring it up…” He pauses, and it’s as if the world stands still.

There’s something in her past? Whatever it may be, Forest’s tone hints at trauma.

“When you do bring it up, she’s not going to like it. Just be —gentle.”

“You’re telling me she knows something about this case?” Disbelief and desperation churn inside me.

“She might. And, Carter, I’m not kidding about the being gentle part. She’s been through a lot. If you can get her to open up, it could make a difference.”

“Could? How?” I can’t believe Jenna could provide any insight.

She’s just a gorgeous woman who runs my favorite coffee shop. I go there every day, not for the coffee I can barely stomach, but to see her. The thought she could be involved—even in the remote past—in something so horrible is beyond me.

“Why would you think Jenna has anything to do with my case?”

“A few years ago—” Forest’s tone shifts, becoming more serious. “I found Jenna on a dark highway. She was scratched and bruised. Naked. Severely traumatized and physically injured. I brought her to the Facility: it’s a place where we reintegrate those we’ve rescued back into the world. We provide trauma counseling, therapy—other services. She never divulged details from that night to anyone but me. One of those details is… sensitive.”

“Sensitive?” I lean in, feeling the weight of his words.

Forest hesitates, his voice lowering. “Jenna did what she had to do to survive. She was in a situation where she had no choice, and it ended with… With an incident. That incident was never investigated. It needs to stay that way.”

“I hear you, but what does she have to do with my case?” The impact of his words hits me, but I keep my expression neutral, nodding slightly.

“Jenna has information that could be crucial to your case, but you need to understand—pushing her for details about that night or trying to bring up what she’s been through will only hurt her. The details of what happened must stay buried. Focus on what she can give you now, in the present.”

I let out a slow breath, the gravity of the situation settling in. “I get it. I’ll tread carefully.”

Forest’s voice softens just a bit. “Good. Jenna’s been through hell, but she’s strong. She’ll help you if she can.”

“Do you think she can?”

“There are several parallels that should not be ignored.”

“Such as?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent positive that what happened to her is linked to the fate of those girls you’re trying to find. Anyway, after a stay at the Facility, we gave her a new identity. New life. Helped her finish high school. Gave her the skills to live on her own. A business loan to open up that coffee shop.”

“New identity?” What happened to Jenna that made her need a new identity?

“She wanted no ties or connections to that past. If you haven’t figured it out already, you know why I say you need to be gentle with her. I violate a lot of trust in saying anything at all.”

“Then why speak to me at all?”

“Because it’s important, and I know Jenna. She survived something horrible. She would want to help others—in the same situation. I’m operating on an ask forgiveness later premise telling you any of this. I don’t care if she gets pissed at me. She’ll forgive me, eventually, but I wanted you to know she may not be receptive to the idea I spoke to you. I’ve seen too much and lived through too much. This is worth violating a bit of her trust.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to her. Thanks for the info.” The weight of this new information presses down on me.

“Good luck, Carter. And be careful.”

Max barks, sensing the end of the call. He stands, tail wagging, ready for our daily routine.

“Alright, boy, let’s go see Jenna.” I grab my keys, eager to have a reason to stop in and see Jenna but nervous about how the interaction might go.

Max and I head out to the truck with Max in the lead. Tongue lolling, tail wagging so hard his butt wiggles, Max jumps into the passenger seat with practiced ease. He knows the routine well and gives a little bark as we drive toward Marlowe’s Café.

This is his favorite part because Jenna always has a treat for him.

Climbing out of my truck, I stand outside Marlowe’s Café The crisp morning air bites my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. My breath forms little clouds as I exhale.

Still early, barely past the ass-crack of dawn, the town is quiet at this hour. Early risers are still cocooned in their homes, but Max and I have been up since four in the morning.

I scan Main Street, the familiar storefronts seemingly frozen in time. This place feels different today—heavy with the weight of what I need to do.

Max trots alongside me, his nose twitching as he sniffs the air, ever vigilant and curious.

Always eager.

Fiercely loyal.

I push on the door to Marlowe’s Café. The bell above the door jingles, slicing through the low hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes.

The rich aroma of ground coffee and fresh pastries wraps around me like a comforting blanket. The warmth contrasts sharply with the chill outside, enveloping me as I step inside.

Jenna is behind the counter, her back to me as she steams milk for a cappuccino. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun, a few stray strands escaping control. The soft hum of music plays in the background, adding to the cozy atmosphere of the most perfect place on the planet.

I pause, taking in the sight of her. Jenna moves with an understated and innate grace. Her every action is fluid and purposeful. The woman is a natural beauty. She tries to hide it under baggy clothes and messy hair, but Jenna is runway-model gorgeous.

My heart spikes high above baseline the moment I see her. It does that every time I see her. In addition to the kick of adrenaline, there comes a clenching of my gut.

Her slender fingers expertly handle the steam wand. The way she tilts her head and nibbles on her lower lip as she concentrates sends a jolt of warmth through me. I can’t help but admire her effortless elegance.

The loose strands of her hair catch the light, framing her delicate features and highlighting her high cheekbones.

Her presence is magnetic, drawing me in every time I see her. I come here every day, usually a bit earlier than now—that call with Forest has me running late—but not for the coffee. I come to catch a glimpse of her. It always starts my day with a smile.

She turns slightly, giving me a full view of her long, dark lashes and the soft curve of her lips.

My heart skips a beat, and then it races ahead.

The vulnerability in her eyes contrasts with her outward strength. The depth makes me desperate to know everything about her.

I step further into the café. Max trots beside me, tail swishing and blissfully unaware of my unease. He’s smitten with Jenna, always eager to see her and get his daily treat. Max whines softly, and I give him a reassuring pat to soothe his excitement.

He doesn’t understand my hesitation.

“Easy, boy,” I whisper. “We’ll get your treat soon.”

Max nudges my leg with his nose, reminding me to keep moving.

It’s hard to believe Jenna carries a haunted past—a past Forest says might hold the key to my current case. It’s hard to see how, but I’m desperate.

Jenna turns, her gaze meeting mine. For a moment, everything else fades away. Her smile is like a ray of sunshine, warming me from the inside out.

“Morning, Jenna.” I manage to keep my voice steady.

“Morning, Detective Jackson.” She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “And Max, I know you want this.” Reaching under the counter, she pulls out a treat.

Max gives a happy woof , his butt wiggling feverishly as Jenna hands him the treat. I watch the interaction, a pang of longing hitting me hard .

I want to be the person she looks forward to seeing every day, not just another customer engaging in meaningless small talk.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for a difficult and uncomfortable conversation.

Someday—I’m going to ask her out. But today, I must dredge up painful memories she’s worked hard to forget. I hate that my first real conversation with her will be about this case.

The guilt is eating me alive.

The weight of Forest’s words hangs heavy on my mind, but I push them aside for now, focusing on the woman who has unknowingly captured my heart.

Max looks up at me with expressive eyes as if sensing my internal conflict. I sigh and give him a reassuring pat.

“Let’s do this, buddy.”

Three teenage girls are missing, and I swear on everything I hold dear that there won’t be a fourth.