The Protector 2

Chapter One-2

I didn’t like the commanding style in which he was talking to me, but I wanted to behave myself for my uncle. Later, though, I will thoroughly kick Mr. Harlan in the arse if he continues acting like a genius with his sexy stare and bulging muscles. He can go to hell with his gloomy, cool, professional bodyguard impression. I’m no longer the same naïve, innocent flower whose virginity was taken by this conceited arsehole at university. I’m now a grown woman, and I don’t let anyone mess with me. And if Rafe Harlan shows no respect towards me, he’ll soon regret taking this job – I think to myself.

It’s about half past five when we cross the state border heading north-west. Back when we left, I grumpily nestled myself on the back seat, and since Rafe has also been wrapping himself in silence, we’ve only exchanged a few quick glances in the rear view mirror. Rage, frustration and despair are storming wildly inside me. Saying goodbye to the family was brief but painful. None of us said it, but the unsettling thought was in the air that should things end badly, this was the last time we’d seen each other alive. I now run for my life with the depressing knowledge that the lives of my loved ones might even get in worse danger than mine, once the hunt for the mysterious attacker commences. And, in addition to all that, who knows for how long I will be forced to be with the only man whom I didn’t want to see in my life ever again.

Rafe casts flat glances at me in the rear view mirror, but instead of saying anything, he looks away whenever our eyes meet.

Since we don’t speak, I have a chance to take a better look at his semi-profile. He’s become manlier, there is no doubt about that. A strong chin, a straight nose, and that still kissab… nicely curving, lush mouth. Back at university he was also tall and sporty, but he’s become much sturdier since then – I analyse him in thought. There are a few newly obtained wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his face is craggy, and his stare is suggestive. Definitely not the smooth, classic male beauty, like my cousin Chris. There’s some morose grumpiness on his face whenever he looks at me, which – damn it – only makes him more attractive. Even though his body is covered with a long-sleeved sweater, I can still spot the tattoos on his arm, and who knows where else on his body. Before my thoughts would get too deep under the clothes of my charming bodyguard, Rafe’s low voice brings me back from my musings.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to eat or drink something?”

Is this for real? – I rage inside. Where are we? At nursery? Are we really going to pretend not to know one another?

I can’t take it anymore. I angrily grab the back rest of the front seat, and try to pull myself foreward, but the belt won’t let me. Angrily, I unfasten it, and push myself forward in the seat.

“What the f**k is going on, Rafe?”

He sends me a sharp look from the mirror, and speaks up with a threatening voice.

“Fasten the seat belt back on.”

“f**k your belt, Harlan!” I bark, but seeing that the corner of his mouth jerks nervously, and his grip tightens on the wheel, I heave an irritated sigh, and fasten the belt again. “If this is some kind of trick or prank, you’ll be really sorry for it later. My uncle and my cousins will get you,” I mumble angrily.

“Oh, really,” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Stop acting like an i***t. I know fine well that you recognized me the moment I stepped into the office.”

He clears his throat and twists his neck all around, as if his collars were too tight, even though he’s not wearing any.

“I have a security-escort firm. This is not my first commission with Mr. Bertone.”

“You work for the mafia?” I ask sharply with a frown, although, being familiar with his record, I don’t know why I’m even surprised.

He pulls a face as he looks at me in the mirror.

“And you are a member of the mafia. I don’t know which is worse,” he remarks strongly.

With frustration, I throw myself back in the seat, rolling my eyes. s**t! That was on point, but I won’t leave it at that.

“I’m not a member,” I respond firmly. “My father was.”

We are quiet for a while, and in the meantime, Rafe narrows his eyes. He’s obviously mulling over the information in his head. After a short while, with caution, he speaks again.

“Your father was… Emilio’s brother?”

I nod stiffly.

“Matteo Bertone.”

“But you said…”

“It’s exactly as I said. My mother and he, they both were killed in a car accident,” I interrupt.

“Accident?” he looks back at me doubtfully.

I don’t answer that. Instead, I turn my face towards the window, signalling that I don’t want to get into the details.

Again, we are quiet for a while, then I ask him a question that I just can’t keep inside.

“Did you know what this job was about before we met?” I focus all my attention on his profile, so that I can read whether he’s telling the truth or not.

“No,” he shakes his head, still concentrating on the road.

“But the Bertone name,” I keep pressing on.

“Of course, I knew the name, but as I said, this hadn’t been my first job with the family. I had worked for them before.”

“You worked for them?” I ask with expectation.

“Yeah. We provide security escort for delicate transfers. Personal and safeguarding on certain occasions of… deliveries that require discretion,” he concludes, studying the rear view mirror with narrowed eyes.

My stomach painfully jerks on hearing his words. It was exactly at a sensitive delivery like this that my father killed someone, from which the whole revenge crucade started, and hasn’t ended since.

Besides, the name Bertone is quite a usual one in this region.

“Bullshit,” I mumble between my teeth, although I’m aware of the fact that he’s telling the truth.

“When Mr. Bertone requested that I do this job, he told me it was about his daughter. Since you told me l-l-long ago… I mean, back then,” he stammers, “that your parents were dead, I didn’t see the connection. If I remember correctly, somehow you forgot to mention at the time that your family is that certain Bertone clan. Perhaps if I had known that your uncle was one of the dons in the Pennsylvanian organization…”

Rafe’s voice is full of resentment and hurt. I keep gulping, strongly clutching the edge of the leather seat. With all my might, I fight the tears that are about to well up as a lump is formed in my throat. Indeed, I wasn’t fully honest with him at university, but I had a reason for that. I didn’t lie to him, I just didn’t reveal every detail regarding my family background. Is that a deadly sin?

“He likes to call me his daughter. He’s always treated me as if I was that. He never made a difference between me and the boys,” I interrupt, before he could go too deep into the accusations. Because, now that we’ve gone this far, I would also have some things to add to the list, but I swallow my anger. I fold my arms tight at my front, and make a show of turning my head and staring out of the windshield, and we are silent for the rest of the journey.

It’s already dark when I drowsily try to open my eyes, taking guesses at where we are. The last hour of the journey is nothing but a blank, as I simply fell asleep in the car. I wake up to Rafe calling my name, and turning around in his driver’s seat, he keeps staring into my face. I feel embarrassed in front of his piercing stare. Who knows how long he’s been looking at me, while I slept with my head tilted, perhaps even with an open mouth. Not that we haven’t been in much more intimate situations before, but that was different. Different times, a different life, a different Raven.

Rafe gets out, walks around the car, and opens the door on my side. Courteously, he extends a hand to me, but I don’t take it; I only thank him for the gesture with a nod. Yet, I make a note to myself that Mr. Harlan is great in the role of devoted bodyguard.

Just then, I notice that two Harleys are parked behind the car. One is by itself, and on the other, a leather-clad guy is sitting, with a pistol in his hand. His eyes are fixed on the house. He must be with us, one of the escorts Rafe was talking about.

Although it’s quite dark, I can still see that we are in a woody area, among trees, far out in the wild. I keep looking around, but I don’t see another house nearby. The safe house is a two-storey miracle with a veranda, built from wooden planks. It’s a real romantic dream in the forest, which I would adore if I didn’t have to spend time in it under the given circumstances, under pressure. The house belongs to my uncle, but so far I’ve had no idea about the existence of this place. I’m not surprised about it, though, as the building has always been used exclusively in emergency situations, for hiding. I also suspect that my uncle has several similar properties in this country, or maybe abroad too. People who live like the Bertone clan and participate in the kind of businesses that they pursue, have to be prepared for any possibilities.

I would like to approach the veranda to look around, but I feel a strong grip on my lower arm. Rafe pulls me back, and shakes his head quietly.

“We’re still waiting,” he whispers. “Gunner and Rita are checking the house first. We only go inside on their signal, if all is clear.”

“Rita?” I ask, raising my eyebrows, on hearing the name of a woman. I hate the feeling, but I actually break out in sweat at the thought that Rafe has brought a woman here with him.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he nods encouragingly. “This is not their first time. They know their stuff. There won’t be a problem,” he says, looking straight in my eyes, with a soft voice that sends a hot shiver down my spine. There won’t be a problem, all right. I’m already in deep trouble. Grumpily, I shrug my shoulders, and folding my arms in front of myself, I lean against the car’s shell-proof side. Rafe in the meantime takes out our luggage, and exchanges a few words with the guy sitting on the Harley, while keeping his eyes on me all the time. After a few minutes the lights come on in the house, and a big, bald, bearded man in a leather jacket appears on the veranda. Touching his right thumb together with his forefinger, he signals that everything is okay inside.

“Okay. All clear. We can go in,” says Rafe, stepping up to me, and nods towards the house. “Mac!” he turns back to the armed guy. “Park the car the usual way. Garage, entrance from the side.”

The guy nods silently, and lifting his forefinger curtly to his cap, signals that he gets the picture.

The air is a bit stuffy in here, but it’s not too bad. At least not as bad as what I have prepared myself for. The furniture looks clean, and as I take a look around the kitchen, opening the cabinets, looking into the pantry, there’s perfect order everywhere. There are non-perishable food supplies piled up all over the place. Tins, tubes, pasta, rice, oil, mineral water, in plenty. Somebody must have been here prior to our arrival to tidy up the house, for sure. At the bottom of the stairs Rafe appears, and takes my huge backpack into his hands.