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

14. Jenna

FOURTEEN

Jenna

The drive to the briefing room is a blur. The scenery outside the golf cart melts into a kaleidoscope of colors as Blake races through the compound. Just minutes ago, I was enjoying the tour, marveling at the advanced technology and the sense of purpose that seemed to permeate every corner of the facility.

But now, everything has changed.

A palpable sense of urgency fills the air, a crackle of energy that seems to emanate from Blake, Stitch, and Jeb. Their faces are set in grim determination. Their eyes narrow with a focus that sends a chill down my spine.

I can’t shake the feeling Sentinel is more than just a criminal organization—it’s a force to be reckoned with, a shadow that looms over everything and everyone.

How could what happened to me all those years ago be connected to the missing girls Carter is searching for now?

It seems impossible, a cruel twist that threatens to drag me back into the darkness I’ve fought so hard to escape.

The golf cart screeches to a halt, and we pile out, our feet hitting the pavement with a sense of purpose. Max stays by my side as if sensing I need to ground myself in the gentle reassurance of a canine friend. I run my fingers through the scruff at the back of his neck, staying in contact with him using my right hand while Carter takes my left. His grip is firm.

Confident.

The building looms before us, all glass, steel, and sharp angles, a monument to Guardian HRS’s cutting-edge technology and unwavering determination.

We approach the front door, and I hesitate. Carter squeezes my hand, then places his hand on the small of my back as if to urge me forward. That lasts for the briefest moment before he suddenly tugs me to his side and wraps an arm around my waist.

“I’m with you,” he whispers into my ear, saying exactly what I need him to say.

We enter together, me leaning against Carter while Max checks me with his soulful brown eyes and leans against my thigh.

I’m bracketed by strength, compassion, and maybe something more.

It’s too early to use the word love. Carter and I are still relative strangers—casual acquaintances who are quickly becoming more.

But I don’t care. It already feels like more.

As we step inside, I’m struck by the energy that crackles through the air. Everywhere I look, people move with purpose, their eyes fixed on screens, and their fingers fly over keyboards. It’s as if they’re bound together by a single mission, a shared commitment to bringing justice to those who have been wronged.

But as we approach a briefing room, my heart pounds, and my palms slick with sweat.

I know what awaits me on the other side of that door—a barrage of questions and a demand to relive the most traumatic moments of my life in front of a room full of strangers. It was hard enough to share my story with Carter, a man I’ve grown to trust and care for deeply.

But this…

This feels like a violation, a stripping away of the carefully constructed walls I’ve built around my past.

The briefing room door looms before me, a portal to a world I thought I’d left behind. Each painful beat of my heart is a reminder of the trauma I’ve tried so hard to forget.

“Ready?” Carter’s voice is soft, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation.

I take a deep breath. The scent of his cologne fills my lungs—a warm, woody aroma with hints of leather and spice. I’ve come to associate his unique aroma with comfort, safety, and the promise of something more.

“As I’ll ever be,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

The door swings open, and I’m greeted by a sea of unfamiliar faces. The room is abuzz with activity, voices overlapping as people speak in hushed tones and tap on keyboards.

I fight the urge to shrink back, to disappear into the shadows, and escape the scrutiny of these strangers, but then Blake steps forward, his smile warm and welcoming.

“Everyone, this is Jenna. She’s working with Carter on a case involving four missing girls. It appears there might be a connection between her past and Sentinel. Of course, you all know Carter.”

The weight of their gazes presses down on me, making my skin prickle and my mouth go dry.

“Umm… Hi.” A feeble finger wave accompanies my greeting, feeling stupid even as I do it. The urge to tuck tail and run grows stronger by the second.

Carter pulls me a tiny bit closer, his presence a shield against the strangers’ scrutiny.

“Jenna, this is Charlie team.” Blake gestures to a group of men, their faces a blend of rugged and refined. “Ethan, our leader. That’s Gabe, Walt, Hank, and Rigel, our newest member.” He points to each man in turn.

It’s a lot of testosterone to process, but their expressions are kind. I try to commit their names to memory, but my mind is a whirlwind of emotions. Their names are here and gone between one breath and the next.

“And this is Mitzy, our technical lead, and Skye, our medical expert.” Blake points to two women, one with hair that defies description—vibrant purple, pink, green, and blue display of psychedelic swirls with highlights of orange, yellow, and—glitter?

How does her hair—sparkle?

There’s a mischievous glint in Mitzy’s eye but also an undercurrent of intense compassion. The contrast is jarring yet oddly comforting.

“Welcome to Guardian HRS.” Skye’s voice is as serene as her smile. A wave of calm washes over me, easing some of the tension from my shoulders.

“And this is CJ and Sam,” Blake continues. “CJ is in charge of the Guardian teams. Mitzy leads our technical teams. Sam is their boss, and of course, you already know Forest.”

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thin. My gaze lands on a familiar face, and time seems to stand still. Forest Summers, the man who saved my life, stands at the back of the room, his expression unreadable.

A tidal wave of memories crashes over me: the cold bite of pavement against my bare skin, the acrid stench of gasoline and burnt rubber filling my nostrils, and the distant baying of dogs growing closer with each passing second. My heart pounds in my chest, echoing the terror of that night.

“Forest.” His name escapes my lips, barely a whisper, yet carrying the weight of years of unspoken gratitude.

He steps forward, his eyes softening as they meet mine. “It’s good to see you again, Jenna. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

My throat constricts, a lump of emotion threatening to choke me. The room spins slightly, and I sway unsteadily on my feet. Carter’s hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. The warmth of his touch anchors me to the present, a silent reminder that I’m not alone.

“I—I never thought I’d see you again,” I manage to say, my voice trembling. The scent of his cologne—the same as that night—brings the memories into sharper focus. “You saved my life.”

“You saved yourself. I just gave you a ride.” Forest’s eyes crinkle at the corners, a mix of sadness and warmth in his gaze .

The room falls silent, the weight of our shared history palpable in the air. For a moment, it’s just Forest and me, connected by a night that changed my life forever. Then, slowly, the present reasserts itself. The hum of computers, the shuffle of feet, the quiet murmur of voices—all serve to remind me why I’m here.

I straighten my spine, drawing strength from Carter beside me and the memory of what I’ve overcome.

“I’m ready to help in any way I can. If there’s a connection between what happened to me and these missing girls, I want to find it.”

“Then let’s get started. We have a lot to discuss.” A glimmer of pride shines in Forest’s eyes.