Page 4 of Just George

But she was only sixteen years old.

It was odd, but when I left Romero’s office after getting my assignment, when I walked back out into his waiting room—he was meeting with all the new guys that day—no one looked up and met my gaze. When I went to our area, the security breakroom and lockers, I expected some ribbing from the guys I’d gone through orientation with. I was sure I would get called a “nanny” or “a childcare worker” or, of course, “babysitter,” but no one said a word. Not one taunt, not one snide comment or scoff of laughter. They all treated me the same. Like my assignment and theirs were all at a similar threat level. What was even more concerning that day were the looks from the guys who had been there awhile. All I saw on their faces was sympathy and some grimaces of pain.

What the hell?

One guy actually took hold of my bicep, nodded knowingly, and then squeezed my arm like, it’s gonna be okay.

It didn’t take long to understand.

The first part was, Aaron Sutter was the boss and Aaron Sutter adored his niece. And she wasn’t actually his niece by blood. She was the daughter of one of his closest friends, and basically, she had been in the man’s life since she was a toddler and had imprinted on him at an early age. He would do anything for her. It was worse than her being related to him because it wasn’t familial or anything else. He simply thought she hung the moon.

The second part was, Hannah, who looked sweet and adorable on the outside, all big brown eyes and wavy brown hair and dimples, was a magnet for trouble. Like, it was insane how many scrapes a high school kid could get into. And some of it was normal, but the ones you could point to and say, yeah, that could happen, seemed to pile up quickly instead of stretching out over months.

She went to buy glitter once, and in the course of shopping she found a place selling illegal handbags and pointed that out to some of the patrons who thought they were getting a deal. She was then grabbed and thrown into an office, but got out by walking across one of several beams that ran the length of the warehouse where she was being held. It was lucky her balance was phenomenally good. For my part, it was fortunate that her uncle, the billionaire, was not only a real estate mogul but was also diversified. He was a philanthropist, was working to find alternative food sources, and—thankfully—dabbled in experimental tech.

Hannah had a pin, more than one now to go with different outfits, that basically could be taken apart. There was an earpiece and a tracker, so she could not only have it call me but also her father, the Chief Deputy of the Northern District of Illinois. He was the top of the food chain for the marshal service in our great state, and so between the two of us, if someone did mess with her, they wouldn’t get far.

That didn’t keep her from nearly being killed a month ago, which was why she and her brother and his two best friends, one of whom was her boyfriend, all had to see a therapist, Dr. Kurt Butler. And now I too had to see the therapist, and all of this history was the reason no one else had wanted the nightmare assignment of guarding Hannah Kage.

Whoever got the job would have all of Aaron Sutter’s focus; she, herself, was a gigantic pain in the ass and didn’t know her own limits and was frighteningly brave; and lastly, she was compelled beyond all reason to fix me because I belonged to her. Just like her parents and her brother, I was beloved, and therefore she would make my life perfect come hell or high water. At the moment, because she found out that my girlfriend and I had broken up, I was her project. She was determined that I find happiness and true love. She was on the case, and God help me.

2

As I drove, as always happened, I started thinking about the safety of the route we were taking and the logistics once we arrived, and that I could really go for a hamburger, and so I didn’t realize for a moment that Dr. Butler was talking to me until the back of my seat was kicked.

“What?” I snarled at Hannah.

“You can ignore me all you want, but don’t be rude,” she scolded, arms crossed, glaring at me when I checked the rearview mirror.

“My mind was drifting,” I informed her, glancing at Dr. Butler, his gunmetal gray eyes meeting my gaze. “I’m sorry, what’d you ask?”

He cleared his throat. “I asked how you’re feeling, as Hannah explained that you were seriously injured the night you saved her, Kola, Jake, and Harper.”

I scowled at Hannah. “I was hurt doing what now?”

She inhaled deeply, breathing through her nose. “I’m certain I said that he was deployed and was injured while he was abroad and not in the process of saving us,” she told Dr. Butler. “The men who he had to take out in the parking garage couldn’t have hurt him.”

“What do you mean couldn’t have?” Dr. Butler asked.

Hannah squinted at him. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

Dr. Butler huffed out a breath. “I mean, why could those men—I understand there were three—not have hurt Mr. Hunt?”

The face she made, confused with a trace of annoyance—I knew her looks well—almost made me smile. “Because there were only three.”

“And Mr. Hunt is so capable that three men couldn’t offer him any resistance?”

“Of course not,” Hannah replied, and the duh was implied in her tone. “He’s him.”

“He’s him?” Dr. Butler repeated.

“There would have to be a whole lot more than three guys, Dr. Butler.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but Hannah took that opportunity to take off her seat belt, as we were now in line to get into the parking garage for the event, and push forward to lean over the seat.

“I don’t wanna fight all night just because I blindsided you with Dr. Butler.”

“Hannah,” Dr. Butler gasped from the back seat, which let me know that the man had been led to believe that meeting me at this event was kosher.