BULLETPROOF HEART

CHAPTER 1: THE ASSIGNMENT The rain in Port Harcourt wasn't rain. It was a war. Sergeant Marcus Johnson didn't hear it hit the zinc roof of the safe house - he heard it in the way his client breathed. Amara Cole sat across from him, soaked to the bone despite being indoors, her white dress clinging to her like a second skin, her hands shaking around a chipped mug of tea that had gone cold an hour ago. She wasn't supposed to be beautiful. Clients were never supposed to be beautiful. "They said you'd be... older," she whispered, looking at his scar, his tattooed arms, the gun on the table between them. "They said you'd be less trouble," Marcus replied, his voice low, American accent thick with exhaustion. He'd just flown in from a failed extraction in Kinshasa. He hadn't slept in 48 hours. "You stole something from your ex. He wants it back. That's trouble." "I didn't steal it," she said, and finally her eyes met his - brown, furious, alive. "He stole from my father's company. Billions. I took the evidence. This briefcase -" she kicked the black metal case under the table - "is the only thing that can put him in prison." Marcus stared at the briefcase. Same damn briefcase he always ends up protecting. Different woman. "And why can't the police protect you?" "Because my ex IS the police. Or owns them." She leaned forward, and Marcus caught the scent of her perfume mixed with rain. Dangerous. "Everyone he's sent to get me... they don't come back to ask twice. You're my last call, Sergeant. My father said you were the only American who doesn't take bribes." Marcus stood up, grabbed his gun, and zipped the briefcase into his own tactical bag. "Rules," he said. "Rules?" "Rule 1: You do what I say, when I say. Rule 2: You don't leave my sight. Rule 3:" He looked down at her lips, then forced himself back to her eyes. "Rule 3: Don't fall in love with me. It makes my job harder." Amara stood too, close enough that her chest almost touched his vest. She was smaller than he thought, but her fire was bigger. "Don't worry, Sergeant," she whispered with a small, dangerous smile. "I don't fall for soldiers. I break them." Outside, a car engine cut. In this part of town, at 2 AM, no engine just cuts. It stalks. Marcus's hand went to his gun instantly, pulling Amara behind him against the wall, his body shielded hers. “Down!"he hissed. The first bullet shattered the windows.