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

25. Jenna

TWENTY-FIVE

Jenna

Max is all teeth and fur, terrifying yet comforting. His presence reassures me, a fierce protector in the face of unknown threats. I’m profoundly relieved he’s on my side.

Yet, my heart catches in my throat. Hands trembling, I creep toward the door and press my eye to the peephole.

My breath hitches.

But there’s no one there.

The silence is deafening, broken only by Max’s growls and the erratic thump of my heartbeat. I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay calm, but the unease refuses to dissipate.

Who knocked on my door?

Why did they disappear?

Or are they still out there?

Waiting for me to open the door and look?

“There’s nobody there, buddy.” I glance down at Max, but my reassurance is more for me than it is for him.

I’m about to turn away when the sound of a key in the lock sends me stumbling back. The door swings open, and there’s Carter. The moment he sees me, his expression turns from casual to concerned .

“What’s wrong?” He takes in my pale face and Max’s agitated state. “I heard Max barking from down the hall.”

“Someone knocked.” My voice is thin and reedy, my hands trembling as I wrap my arms around myself. “But when I looked, no one was there. And then you showed up…”

“I didn’t see anyone in the hall.” Carter’s brow furrows, concern etched in the lines of his face. “Tell me what happened. No detail is too small.”

I hesitate, biting my lip. “I’m just being silly. It’s probably nothing, but…” I trail off, unsure how to put the nagging unease into words.

“But, what?” Carter’s hand rests reassuringly on my arm, his touch gentle and encouraging.

“It’s just… There’s been this new customer. An out-of-towner, probably here on business. I get this weird vibe from him.” The words tumble out in a rush, my heart hammering in my chest. “I’m just jumpy.”

“A weird vibe?” Carter’s eyes sharpen, his body tensing. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, exactly. It’s like—there’s just something that feels off about him. He’s never there at the same time each day, and I feel like I’m being watched when he’s around.” A shudder runs through me, goosebumps rising on my skin.

“I’m calling Blake. We need to get you better protection, not that Max isn’t good.” Carter clenches his jaw. He reaches for his phone, his movements swift and purposeful.

I open my mouth to protest, but the words die on my lips as Carter holds up a hand, his phone already pressed to his ear.

“Listen, we’ve got a situation.” He quickly recaps what I told him, his voice tight with barely contained urgency. “I’m with her at night, but is there something we can do?”

There’s a pause as he listens to whoever’s on the other end of the line. His free hand clenches and unclenches at his side. Then he nods and his shoulders relax a fraction.

“Okay, good. Thanks, Blake. You’re a godsend. Have whoever it is meet me at Marlowe’s Café in the morning. I’m not taking any chances with her safety.”

He ends the call, turning back to me with fierce determination in his eyes. “Starting tomorrow, Blake says one of his teammates will be at the café during the day. They’ll provide protection.”

“I don’t know that I need protection.” I reach down and dig my fingers into the scruff of Max’s neck. “Max is plenty of protection.”

“Max is a phenomenal dog, but I want more.”

“I’m scared.” A lump forms in my throat. “Do you think, maybe, that I’m overreacting? Maybe my imagination is out of control. I could just be making things up. Hell, I don’t know if I can trust my reactions.”

“I find gut instinct is rarely wrong, and if this stranger is some perfectly normal dude, then no harm, no foul. But if it turns out to be something, I’d feel better knowing you have someone close. I’d stay, but?—”

“You have a case to solve. I don’t want you taking time from that to watch over me. I’ll be fine.”

But I’m not fine.

My entire body trembles and my hands shake. There’s an unsettled feeling in my gut, my ears ring, and it feels as if the world spins beneath my feet.

Is this what a panic attack feels like?

I don’t know, and I don’t like feeling this way. I’m not some helpless damsel in distress.

When I was building a new life for myself at the Facility, they told us we weren’t victims—we weren’t allowed to use that word—we were victors, and I’ve always liked that way of looking at things.

I’m not a victim of my past, but victorious over it.

But…

The reality of the situation crashes over me, and the fear I’ve been trying to suppress rises to the surface.

Am I really as strong as I believe?

Doubt creeps in, whispering that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as victorious as I’ve tried to convince myself .

In an instant, Carter’s there, pulling me tight against his chest, his embrace tight and fierce.

“I know, baby. I know. I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

I cling to him, drawing strength from the solid warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just us, two people holding onto each other in the face of the unknown.

The safety I feel in his arms is profound.

After a brief and tasteless dinner—the evening’s events robbed me of my appetite—Carter and I retire to bed. He holds me through the night, his presence reassuring.

His arms around me—a shield.

His breath against my hair—a reminder I’m not alone.

But closeness stirs our desire.

What begins as a comforting embrace deepens into something more. Cuddling turns to kissing, kissing turns to touching, and touching turns into an exploration of the bond we share. His lips are soft yet insistent against mine, a silent promise of protection and love.

Desperate hands and fervent kisses become physical affirmations of the love that binds us together. My fingers trace the contours of his face, memorizing every line and curve, while his hands roam my back, pulling me closer. Each kiss is an expression of need and reassurance, our breaths mingling in the space between us.

“I need you,” I whisper against his lips, the vulnerability in my voice echoing the longing in my heart.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

Our movements are slow and deliberate. The outside world fades, leaving only the warmth of our bodies and the intensity of our emotions. In the darkness, we find refuge in each other.

The physical becomes a bridge to the emotional. Our bond deepens, not just in passion but in the silent promises we make with every touch .

His hands are gentle yet firm, guiding me, holding me, and cherishing me. In his arms, I find peace I didn’t know was possible.

When we finally lie still, our breaths heavy and intertwined, Carter’s presence banishes the darkness. I rest my head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a peaceful slumber, safe in the knowledge that, together, we can face anything.

That night, there are no dreams.

No nightmares.

Nothing to disturb my slumber.

Morning comes, and with it, a renewed sense of determination. Carter walks me to the café, Max trotting along happily beside us, sniffing at everything in his path. Carter stays with me as I go through the familiar motions of opening up. His eyes constantly scan the street outside.

There is no sedan. No sign of that man.

About an hour later, a massively muscled man enters the café. I remember him from the meeting at Guardian HRS, but his name escapes me. He and Carter shake hands, a silent communication passing between them. Carter turns to me, his hand resting reassuringly on the small of my back.

“Jenna, you remember Walt?”

Ah, yes, Walt.

“Yes, of course.” I shove out my hand to shake, only to have Walt’s massive hand engulf mine. Despite the differences in our sizes, his handshake is surprisingly gentle. “Thanks for coming. I feel kind of silly, but I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem. Happy to help, and I hear you make the best scones on the planet.”

“I don’t know about the planet, but they’re pretty tasty.”

“Nice.” Walt glances at the counter, where Malia is taking orders. He pauses for a moment, then heads over with a confident stride. “Hey there, gorgeous.” He flashes a charming smile. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a cup of the best coffee in town?”

Malia looks up, slightly taken aback but intrigued. “Haven’t seen you here before, big guy.”

“Well, that is a mistake I intend to rectify. Name’s Walt. Friend of Carter’s.” He introduces himself, leaning casually on the counter. “I’ve heard a lot about your coffee and scones. Thought I’d see if the hype is real.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat.” Malia smiles, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“Only if I have company while I enjoy them. You think your boss will mind?” Walt shamelessly flirts, leaving Malia speechless.

I shake my head at his antics and give Malia the ‘Okay’ sign. With as much time as I’ve been taking off, she’s due a little bit of fun, and it looks like Walt’s willing to give it to her.

Malia laughs softly. “I’ll get your order started. You can tell me if it lives up to your expectations.”

Walt grins, a playful glint in his eye. “If the coffee is half as sweet as your smile, I’m sure it will.”

Malia blushes, her smile widening. “Well, I’ll do my best not to disappoint. One coffee and a scone coming right up.”

“Thanks.” Walt leans on the counter and flashes a roguish grin. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Malia’s smile lingers as she turns to prep his order.

Oblivious to Walt and Malia’s interaction, Carter leans close and gives me a final kiss with a promise to return as soon as possible. I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders, and turn to face the day ahead.

Walt and Malia hit it off immediately. He hangs by the counter all day, shamelessly flirting with Malia. A big man, his presence is reassuring. I hate to say it because I still think Carter’s being overly protective, but I’m glad to have Walt with us for the day.

I try to lose myself in the work, in the familiar rhythm of brewing coffee and greeting customers. The strange man with the dark eyes doesn’t come. Not that day or the next.

His absence is more unnerving than his presence. I glance at the street more times than I’m willing to admit, looking for his car. Now, I know I’m being paranoid, and I’m definitely jumpy.

My heart pounds with every shadow that passes by.

As the days go by, each morning brings another of the Guardians to babysit me. Blake, Gabe, Hank, Rigel, and Walt all take turns, but soon, it becomes apparent Walt is here more often than not.

I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched.

That doesn’t make sense.

It’s been days since the stranger stopped by, which suggests he was in town for business and has since moved on.

My imagination needs to dial it back a notch or two.

One night, after a particularly frantic day, by the time Carter arrives to walk me home, I’m wound tighter than a spring, my nerves frayed to the breaking point.

He steps into the café, his eyes immediately scanning the room until they land on me. The moment he sees my face, his expression shifts from casual to concerned.

“What’s wrong?” He strides over, not bothering with greetings. “Did the man show up?”

“No.” I shake my head, feeling like a fool. “It’s just been a busy day, which is good for business, but I gave Malia the day off. I’ve been non-stop all day, and I’m just overreacting. It’s silly, and I’m a little embarrassed, to be honest.”

Carter pulls back slightly, his hands resting on my shoulders, eyes searching mine. “Your instincts are good. If something feels off, it probably is. Let’s get you home.”

As we leave the café, his protective presence by my side, I feel safe, but a bit of lingering anxiety stays with me. That night, the nightmares return in full force, each one more vivid and terrifying than the last.

I’m back at the compound, forced to run laps around the outer courtyard with the other girls in the pouring rain as punishment for some perceived slight. My lungs burn, and my legs ache, but I don’t dare stop, not with Lucian’s cruel gaze fixed upon me.

Sophia is there—in my dream—defying Lucian. She stopped running with the rest of us and went up to Lucian, screaming that what he was doing was wrong. She told him she wasn’t going to spend one more minute inside his prison.

All Lucian did was snap his fingers.

Before I could blink, those two guards appeared. They dragged Sophia away. A week later, she returned, bruised and beaten, her fiery spirit extinguished.

In another nightmare, I’m at that final party, the one where I thought I was serving drinks. Sophia warns me to leave. She tells me we are being sold.

I didn’t believe her until I stood in front of a stranger who ripped the skimpy lingerie off my body and proclaimed that I belonged to him now.

That night, I was lucky.

I escaped.

But I never saw Sophia again.

The horror of my dreams wakes me each night. I scream and thrash in Carter’s arms. He holds me through the worst of it until his soothing words and gentle touch ease me back into a restless sleep.

Each morning, the weight of those nightmares clings to me, a lingering shadow that drains my strength and leaves me feeling hollow inside.

The memory of Sophia’s beaten body and the terror of that final party haunt my thoughts, making it hard to focus and hard to breathe.

During the day, I go through the motions, operating on autopilot. At night, the nightmares find me. They sap my strength, making every task feel monumental, every interaction a strain. I flinch at sudden noises, my heart racing as if I’m still trapped in those horrific memories.

And every night, they return in full force, relentless and unforgiving. The darkness brings no relief, only the resurgence of my deepest fears. Carter is always there, his presence calming, but even his strong arms can’t shield me from the horrors that replay in my mind. They’re a cruel reminder that my past is never truly behind me.

But I refuse to be ruled by fear.