Page 9 of A Texas Hero

“I open at ten.”

“I will be ready. Remember, for now, you are not to leave your house without me. You let me know if you need anything and I will be there in an instant.”

She rolled her eyes. “How about if I scream?”

“Scream,” he said slowly as if this was a new word in his vocabulary. Sometimes he still missed American nuances. Surely, she didn’t mean it literally.

She held her hand to her neck and made exaggerated motions with wide eyes.

“Help!” she screamed. “Help me!”

She sounded like an actress in an old-school horror movie. The sound was loud enough for Archer to take a step back, and then she dissolved into laughter.

Honestly, it pissed him off. “Is this funny to you?”

“Yes, kind of,” she said, one hand on her hip. “And it would be to you, too, if you saw Scott. I could seriously take him in a fight, not that my daddy would ever believe me.”

Of course. Archer reminded himself she did not know about the other, far more credible threat to her and her father’s safety. He had to tread cautiously here, but, she had a point. She looked more than capable of defending herself, but there were many other factors involved. No use elaborating; civilians never understood how real threats could be. They were used to living in their stable worlds where destruction and bombings were an aberration and not the norm.

He quirked a brow and crossed his arms. “Describe for me how you would ‘take him.’”

“Actually, I would demonstrate, but you, on the other hand, look like you might take me.”

“Thank you for that.”

“I took kickboxing lessons for a while.” She held her hands up like fists and swung once. “And I know how to pack a punch, believe me.”

He bit back a chuckle because she’d left herself completely open to attack with that stance. But no use belaboring the point. Suffice it to say, his job was secure.

She reached for his shoulders, her knee inches from his crotch. “If you really want to know, I would grab Scott like this. And then I’d raise my knee like so and hit him right in the family jewels.”

“I see. Thank you for not testing that on me.” He cleared his throat.

Her delicious scent was thankfully not pumpkin spice, but a flowery smell that hinted at springtime and fresh sunshine.

She stepped back, lowering her hands to her sides, no longer smiling. “So, you see my point.”

“But, nevertheless, fathers worry about these things, which is good for me, as now I have a job.”

She nodded. “I wouldn’t want to take away your livelihood.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an interminably long time before Zoey said, “I’ll let you get settled, then,” and left him alone in the guest bedroom.

Archer threw off his jacket, sat on the bed, pulled off his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He wanted to take another look at his client’s background and get to know her better. He kicked off his boot, removed his prosthesis and rubbed his stub. Relief poured through him, and for the first time all day the phantom pain he occasionally felt subsided. The human body was amazing. His left leg still protested that something was missing. He wanted to remind his leg that plenty of his friends were missing, never to return. Forget the damn foot. Both he and his left leg were lucky.

His amputation was below the knee, and meant the healing time and adjustment had been faster than one took above the knee. Even so, it had been over a year since the training accident that took part of Archer’s leg. He recuperated in Germany and got his prosthetic and physical therapy at the VA in Houston. According to his therapist, he healed faster than most of his patients, thanks to his youth and a fit body otherwise. Of course, his mind was another story. It took months and plenty of therapy before he’d stopped reliving the day.

He found himself in a good place when he heard a former Marine was hiring returning military personnel at his security firm. It meant staying in Texas, an affront to his mother, who wanted him home in Connecticut with the rest of the family. But he’d been stationed out of Texas for over a decade. Going home would consist of a 24/7 pity party, with his mother and sisters praising him for his service and tending to him like an invalid. That was the last thing Archer wanted. No one he loved had ever seen him with part of his leg gone, and he’d like to keep it that way. It was his job to show the rest of the world that nothing had changed.

When he transitioned to executive protection, he’d envisioned elite assignments to celebrities or politicians but he could now see he wasn’t ready for that. It was a good thing he’d been sidelined to something small, because occasionally the prosthesis bothered him. The doctors explained that the tissue would swell and shrink during the day and could cause occasional pain. Archer didn’t like taking meds for pain so he endured it, making himself lift weights to the point where another part of his body hurt instead.

He’d scheduled an appointment on Monday at the local hospital to confirm his new prosthesis model fit adequately and nothing had gone wrong. He might have to cancel since he was a team of one on this job, but he’d check in with Ian on threat levels and see if he could get away for a few minutes.

Archer leaned back on the bed and opened the folder he had, which included the full background on Ms. Zoey Lambert. He’d only been briefed on the particulars: recent credible death threats to father.

As he read, he chuckled when he discovered Zoey had previously worked as a runway model. That fact did not surprise him. The man with the deep pockets was a former professional football player, legend and two-time Super Bowl champ with the Cowboys. Mr. Patrick “Patch” Lambert had quite a résumé, and even Archer was impressed. He was more of a soccer and basketball fan but appreciated the determination it took to be a success in any sport. And having witnessed many a soccer match that went wildly out of hand, he understood the fanaticism behind sports. Fans could be dangerous, and if this one ever came near Zoey, he’d live to regret it.

The whole thing was a strange situation, when he couldn’t even let his principal know the very real threat, which wasn’t her ex at all.