“You sound just like Lucas when he first came to America,” said Hal. “It’s really too bad he’s not here. Why don’t you start at the beginning, and tell me exactly what’s going on and why you need a bodyguard? Don’t leave anything out — there’s details that may not seem important to you, but could mean a lot to me.”
Hal sat down behind a desk, and took out a notebook and a pen.
Raluca took a delicate sip of her cappuccino. The powder was chocolate. In her own country of Viorel, it would have been nutmeg. She forced her mind away from how lost and alone and alien she felt, and began, “At the age of eighteen, Lucas and I were promised in marriage...”
She had been trained to recount a tale clearly and with detail; Hal made few interruptions, but took many notes. When she explained her theory that someone wanted her gone to clear their path to the throne, he nodded and said, “That makes sense.”
An odd warmth stole into her heart at his simple words. She was used to being respected, of course. But it was for her position and family and wealth, not for her intelligence. She had learned to read people — Uncle Constantine had made her watch him hold diplomatic meetings with politicians or interrogate prisoners, and then quizzed her about them — and so she could see that Hal was used to having to steer clients to the point, and appreciated that he didn’t have to do so with her.
“So I need a bodyguard,” Raluca concluded. “I do not know how to fight, and I cannot publicly become a dragon. I would die before revealing the existence of shifters to the world. Someone must protect me who can do so in their human form.”
Hal nodded; this too made sense to him. “Of course. And I assume you’d like to know who’s behind the plot?”
“I would,” Raluca said. “So I need someone who is strong, courageous, and intelligent.”
Hal smiled and leaned back in his own armchair. “That goes without saying. I only hire the sharpest knives in the drawer. But what sort of things do you want to do while they’re guarding you? I’d assign a different person depending on whether you want to go to hot new nightclubs, or Santa Martina’s fanciest parties.” He chuckled, more to himself than to her, as he said, “Or frat keggers and fight clubs and flea markets.”
Raluca hadn’t had any particular plans other than “find Lucas” and then “get a bodyguard.” But Hal’s offhand joke struck a chord with her. Why not see how the other half lived? She’d had enough fancy parties to last her a lifetime. But she’d never been to a nightclub. She didn’t even know what a frat kegger or fight club or flea market was, other than a place or activity Hal wouldn’t expect to see her at. Presumably they were rough and low class.
“I want to go to hot new nightclubs,” Raluca said. “And also fight clubs and flea markets and — er —” The last term was so unfamiliar to her that it slipped her mind. “That other thing. I want to do everything a princess of Viorel never gets a chance to do. Peasant things. Dangerous things. American things.”
Then honesty forced her add, “And also fancy parties. I do enjoy them. I would be very sad to leave America without attending a single ball.”
“I think we can get you into at least one.” Hal smiled at her. He seemed to sincerely like her, which was pleasant but strange. Most people neither liked nor disliked her; she was the princess, to be regarded with awe and respect and deference. Liking didn’t enter into the picture.
“You’re in luck,” Hal went on. “Almost everyone but Lucas is available right now. Don’t get the wrong impression; everyone’s extremely competent, and anyone here can protect you. But if it’s possible, I try to pick the ideal bodyguard for the job. Would you rather have a man or woman, or does it not matter? Do you want someone who’ll look intimidating, or would you rather have someone who people won’t even know is your bodyguard?”
Raluca hadn’t thought of anything beyond needing someone to protect her, since Lucas wasn’t there. She had no idea who the other bodyguards were. And though she knew Lucas must trust Hal, or he wouldn’t be working for him, she’d been trained her entire life not to reveal anything more than was absolutely necessary.
Cautiously, she said, “Why don’t you tell me a little about who you have, and then I’ll decide.”
To her relief, Hal seemed to find that a reasonable request. “Sure. I’ll show you photos, too, so you can get a sense of who might blend in where.”
Hal took a file from his desk drawer and opened it. The first photo was of Lucas, looking every inch a dragon prince in a three-piece suit. Hal flipped it over without comment.
The next was of an elegant blonde woman. If Lucas looked like a prince, that woman looked like a young queen. Raluca started to reach out for her, but Hal slid the photo aside.
“Fiona’s on an assignment now,” he said. “Too bad, I think you’d get along. Maybe you can at least meet her later.”
The next picture was of a Latina woman, curvy and small, smiling confidently at the camera. Hal turned that one over as well. “Catalina’s a new hire; she’s still in training. But you can have your pick of the rest of the team.”
“Are you including yourself?” Raluca wouldn’t mind having Hal as a bodyguard. He seemed both competent and friendly, and his size alone should intimidate all but the bravest assassins.
“No, sorry,” Hal said. “I have my hands full managing the team. I don’t usually take solo assignments. But Shane’s available. Here.”
Hal showed Raluca a photograph of a tall man with black hair and eyes blue as ice. “Shane is a panther shifter, and he has other powers too. He can terrify people by looking into their eyes, and he can also make people not notice him at all. Since it’s not clear who’s after you or why, someone who can disappear at will might be the best choice. Shane can not only protect you, he can investigate and infiltrate for you.”
Shane wasn’t smiling for the camera, and something about him unnerved Raluca. She couldn’t imagine enjoying a nightclub — or anything else — with that dark presence at her side.
Politely, she said, “I’d like to see everyone before I choose.”
As if Hal had read her mind, he said, “If you’d prefer someone more easygoing, I have two bodyguards who fit that bill.”
He spread out two photos. One was of a strikingly handsome Latino man, strong-looking but with a relaxed posture and pleasant expression. The other was of a curvy black woman with lots of braids and a merry smile. She didn’t match Raluca’s idea of a bodyguard. But both of them did look a lot more friendly than Shane.
“Rafa used to be a Navy SEAL, with me,” Hal said. “He’s a lion shifter. He can be intimidating if he needs to be, but he won’t scare people accidentally. The only problem with him is that if you’re hoping to meet men, they may not approach you if they see him with you.”
Raluca considered the photo again. “I see what you mean. What about the woman? I assume she’s stronger than she looks.”