Chance

Chapter 1 Trouble in ParadiseThe daily grind at the law office kept Sydney Jones on her toes. The highlight of her day was the return home and a relaxing evening with Walker, head of security at her office and personal bodyguard. For their dining and special events, Walker hired security out of his own pocket, so he could give Sydney his full attention. Sydney's favorite place was home, where Walker grilled or cooked some delicious dishes for their meals, followed by lovemaking into the wee morning hours. Tonight, she needed to talk to Walker about their trip to Savannah for the Georgia State Bar Association meeting. She'd received the invitation because apparently, her firm was up for some awards, according to the accompanying news release. Her father-in-law, Mr. Joseph Jones, would be in attendance, as he was a long-time member of the Georgia State Bar Association. She didn't think the timing was right to tell him she was in a relationship, although it had been three years since Ray's death. There was also the possibility that it would appall him she was dating someone from a different ethnic group. She did not understand; but either way, she didn't want to shock him at this event by introducing Walker as her boyfriend. Her planned speech was one easily changed for the award given. If only she could deliver an eloquent request to Walker to act as her bodyguard only in the presence of Mr. Jones and bar association members without hurting his feelings. After they put away the dishes from their meal and poured a fresh drink, Sydney said, “I've been meaning to talk to you about our Savannah trip.” Frown lines formed across Walker's forehead, expecting questions from the tone of Sydney's voice. “What's wrong?” he asked. “I haven't told my father-in-law about us and don't want to surprise him with the news in Savannah. Will you play along for the weekend in front of him and other bar association members? I hate to ask you, but it would mean a lot to me for you to accompany me as my bodyguard.” Walker was aware of the deep feelings of respect she had for Mr. Jones and replied, “Don't worry. I've got your back.” He lightly touched her cheek with his fingertips and kissed her teary-eyed face. Sydney sighed with relief and relaxed as he wrapped his muscular arms around her. They walked side by side to his downstairs bedroom in her townhome, where they spent most of their time at home. She watched as he placed his cell phone on the charger, taking one last look before plugging it in. He'd been doing that a lot lately. She wondered why the sudden interest in checking messages; and when she'd awakened during the night, she saw his phone light up with incoming text notifications. She hoped it wasn't the government trying to draw him back in a leadership role for the U.S. Special Operations Command, known as MARSOC, formed over a decade ago as part of the global fight against terrorism. The CIA had contacted him recently about special assignments they needed him to perform with his military background. She hoped he'd stay steadfast as her security chief and decline their offers; they were building a professional and personal life together now. Walker knew Sydney noticed the rapid-fire cell calls and messages he'd gotten lately. He'd hoped the caller would understand the message he didn't want to talk and quit calling and texting. Not Roxanne: She was on a mission to gain his help for making a comeback in the music industry. The late-night calls were getting more brazen and erratic emotionally, with her slurred words promising him the moon. She wanted a bodyguard to support her latest move in the media to reclaim her crown. Roxanne was a singer-songwriter whose music took her to the top of the pop charts. Unfortunately, her status plummeted as rapidly as her stardom. She couldn't catch herself on the way down. Walker saw it coming and gave notice of his leave. Roxanne spent more than she was earning from record sales. She'd developed a d**g habit as a way of coping with reality when her career nosedived. She'd lost her ability to write new songs, and her band members had long since moved on to hotter stars. Yet, she wanted to keep up the persona of being a successful artist. Enticing Walker to act as her bodyguard would help paint the picture; she wanted the public to see. He was halfway in love with her when he was head of her security back in her glory days. It wouldn't be too tough to convince him the affection was returned. They'd move in together; in the condo she'd bought when flying high. When in public, his presence would call attention to her, and perhaps a record label would pick her up again? She'd call her old publicist and ask if she would help plant news stories about her on the web and highly rated entertainment news outlets. For old times sake and a boost to reinvent her career, she might help an old acquaintance. Roxanne realized where Walker was working. The news was all over Atlanta about Sydney Jones and her new law firm. She'd score his private number from the security office and contact him. Putting on a stellar performance as a con artist, she gained the information from the receptionist. She waited until after hours to contact him, for she planned to use her sexiest voice to entice him over to her place for a drink and catching up. When she called, he was cordial but unflappable in not accepting her offer to meet. She expected their meeting to be a breeze to set up and hurt by his rejection. She wasn't one to quit when this meant the difference in getting her career back on track. She'd keep trying to convince him to meet her until he gave in to her wishes. Calling him late at night when he was relaxing and using her most soothing and sexy voice, she tried to coax him over for a nightcap. Walker pressed his fingertips to his temple as he listened to Roxanne's slurred words for the umpteenth time. She would not quit, and Sydney was already suspicious of his late-night calls and texts. She wanted his undivided attention and wouldn't expect anything less. He called Roxanne and said, “I'll drive over tomorrow morning after checking in at the office.” “Good,” she said. “We've got a lot of catching up to do.” Walker drove Sydney to the office and checked in with his security staff before the meeting with Roxanne. He really didn't want to meet her, but decided it was the best way to convince her he wasn't interested in a new job. Roxanne needed to quit and move on with her life, so he and Sydney would have peace. A quick high was what she needed to be in the mood to convince him to provide her security. She rummaged through the notepad where she kept her contacts for making the buy. She didn't keep the contacts on her phone in case something should happen, like losing her phone again. She tried to remember which ones she didn't owe money to. Through some friends from her past, she'd been able to establish a line of credit. But since her income had plummeted, she'd been carefully choosing her supplier. The d**g dealers were testy about selling her drugs she couldn't afford, but she needed the high. She made the call and delivery was en route and would arrive early enough for her to have a snort and poised for Walker's arrival. The doorbell rang, and she rushed to greet him for her delivery. She opened the door and the delivery guy pushed his way into the condo, demanding money for this and previous orders. She said, “Add this buy to my account!” “You don't have a charge account,” he growled. “I need this now,” she said. “I'm having an important meeting that'll put me back on top.” “Too Bad,” he said. “My orders are to collect what you owe. Then give you the drugs.” “I don't have any money,” she said, adding in a breathy, wispy whisper, “But you'll have it by the end of the month.” “You're pissing me off,” he said. “And I don't like that.” He looked around her condo for valuables and came up empty-handed. All she had were platinum record plaques from the past, and they were worthless on the market. He turned to leave, but she shot past him, almost tripping over the long, teal negligée she wore. She said, “Leave the drugs, please.” He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, his dreadlocks swaying as he continued toward the door. She gripped his jacket in a tight fist and held on as he moved toward the exit. He turned, and jaw jacked her hard onto the unyielding marble floor. The crushing blow knocked her headfirst onto the rock-solid landing. A gaping hole in her skull spewed bright-red blood with every heartbeat until her last. When he left the condo, her crimson blood looked ghoulish encircling her dead body. His boss wouldn't be happy, for now, the money she owed was uncollectable. It was an accident. He was thankful he'd not taken off his gloves to leave fingerprints. Walker drove over to her high-rise condo where he'd spent time when her career first took off. He pushed the elevator button to take him up to her suite and braced himself for the meeting. He rang the doorbell and waited. She didn't answer right away. Concerned, he tried the doorknob and was surprised when it opened. He gasped when he spotted her lying on the floor in her own blood. He pulled her hair away, checked the pulse on her neck, and found none. Not hesitating, he dialed 9-1-1- from her house phone and left it off the hook as he exited and closed the door behind him, making sure it was unlocked for the paramedics. He drove to the nearest gas station and parked to settle his nerves. He wondered what happened at Roxanne's home. Apparently, she wasn't kidding about needing a bodyguard. Someone had it in for her and cashed in this morning. She'd not been dead long; her body was still warm to the touch. He wished he'd arrived sooner; he could've protected her. He rarely drank during the day, but grabbed a beer since he was there. The scent of her blood was still in his nostrils, and he didn't intend to return to the firm with the memory fresh in his mind. Besides, Sydney was apt at picking up his moods. What would he tell her—or did he even need to? He decided on a fresh change of clothes and was glad he kept extra at the office. He'd go directly there and change before checking in with his security staff. He popped a fresh piece of spearmint gum in his mouth to camouflage the odor of the beer and recalled the crime scene. Walker was aware he'd not taken precautions about leaving fingerprints at her condo. It would only be a matter of time before the Georgia Bureau of Investigation contacted him, as it was a high-profile murder, one they'd normally work. Lt. Thomason was alerted and went into the meeting about Roxanne's murder. GBI was taking over the investigation from local authorities. The crime scene was secure, and they stored evidence in the storage locker. Thomason grabbed the nearest chair and eased into the conversation, questioning if DNA evidence or fingerprints were found at the crime scene. When an agent interjected Walker's name as a suspect, it intrigued him. He listened to his background report, eloquently summarized by the new kid in the agency; a real fireball, some said. It was no surprise to him that Walker had worked for Roxanne when she first became famous, nor by the list of corporate bigwigs, he'd handled protection for prior to going into personal and tech security protection. He'd tell them now; Walker was an innocent bystander. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was head over heels in love with his present employer, Sydney Jones. He didn't want to be the one to question him about his whereabouts on the morning of Roxanne's murder. With Sydney looking over his shoulder, he couldn't make mistakes, especially with her love interest. He didn't need to worry. His captain informed him that the CIA had intervened in Roxanne's case for national security reasons. He couldn't wait to learn how it played out. He'd bet Walker was innocent, but even if he wasn't, his highest and best use to CIA operations would take precedence over an investigation and court of law, anyway.