Guard Me

By Geonn Cannon

Secret Service Agent Elizabeth Caine was standing next to President Joseph Sullivan when an assassin opened fire. In the aftermath, Elizabeth was left in a coma, and the President and his wife were both dead. When Elizabeth wakes ten months later, she resigns her position and withdraws to a rustic cabin in the woods. It's there that her mentor Theodore Hudson finds her a year later with a proposition. He's started a private security firm and an old friend asked him for the best bodyguard he could think of. Only one name came to mind, and Theo asks her to at least hear them out.
Elizabeth travels to Squire's Isle to meet with the clients, Everett and Michelle Drake. Mr. Drake is the current CEO of a lumber company, and he's concerned for his daughter Kelly. There have been a handful of kidnapping attempts, and he wants them stopped. Elizabeth listens, as she agreed, but a plea from the girl's mother convinces Elizabeth to take the job.
Elizabeth enlists some old friends to protect Kelly: Zoe Forrest, a former cop turned private eye, and Wade Ottis, a weapons supplier and conspiracy theorist.
During the course of her assignment, Elizabeth digs deeper into the official story of the President's assassination and uncovers evidence that all might not be as it seems, and the shooting isn't quite as cut and dried as it first appeared. She decides to join Theo's company on a case-by-case basis so she can continue to dig into the conspiracy, quickly discovering that she may not be able to trust even her closest friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Supposed Crimes, LLC
• Release date: Dec 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781944591168

Geonn Cannon

Geonn Cannon was born in a barn and raised to know better than that. He was born and raised in Oklahoma where he’s been enslaved by a series of cats, dogs, two birds and one unexpected turtle. He’s spent his entire life creating stories but only became serious about it when he realized it was a talent that could impress girls. Learning to write well was easier than learning to juggle, so a career was underway. His high school years were spent writing stories among a small group of friends and reading whatever books he could get his hands on.Geonn was inspired to create the fictional Squire’s Isle after a 2004 trip to San Juan Island in Washington State. His first novel set on the island, On the Air, was written almost as a side project to another story he wanted to tell. Reception to the story was so strong that the original story was put on the back burner to deal with the world created in On the Air. His second novel set in the same universe, Gemini, was also very well received and went on to win the Golden Crown Literary Society Award for Best Novel, Dramatic/General Fiction. Geonn was the first male author to receive the honor.While some of his novels haven’t focused as heavily on Squire’s Isle, the vast majority of Geonn’s works take place in the same universe and have connections back to the island and its cast of characters (the exception being the Riley Parra series). In addition to writing more novels based on the inhabitants of Squire’s Isle, Geonn hopes to one day move to the real-life equivalent to inspire further stories.Geonn is currently working on a tie-in novel to the television series Stargate SG-1, and a script for a webseries version of Riley Parra.

Book preview

Guard Me

Geonn Cannon

Smashwords Edition

Supposed Crimes LLC, Matthews, NC

All Rights Reserved

Copyright 2016 Geonn Cannon

Published in the United States

ISBN: 978-1-944591-16-8

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter One

Elizabeth Caine cupped her hands under the faucet and then splashed her face. She straightened and looked at her reflection in the mirror, making sure that the little bit of makeup she wore was really waterproof. She smoothed her hair down with her palms, an unnecessary move since it was already slick against her skull. Her hair was pulled back into a slim ponytail that rested on the collar of her blazer. The face that greeted her in the mirror was tired and upset. She pushed those emotions aside and resumed her mask of utter professionalism.

She tore off a paper towel and blotted the water from her forehead and cheeks, dumping it into the empty trash bin as she left the ladies' room. They had swept the restroom earlier to ensure there weren't any nasty surprises planted.

The paint was peeling from the walls in the corridor, and exposed pipes ran overhead. It always surprised her that someone so powerful was so often forced to spend time in areas like this, ushered through the back door like the hired help.

Elizabeth walked to where the hall branched off, and she saw two men in identical suits standing by a pair of swinging doors. A metal staircase led to the garage, and Elizabeth moved to stand at the bottom step. She took the radio from her hip and brought it to her lips. Second level is secure.

The door above them opened a few seconds later. A man in a tuxedo and a woman in a blue evening gown appeared, flanked by four other suited individuals. Elizabeth's shoulders twitched as she tried to improve her already impressive posture, one fist in the small of her back and the other extending to guide the guests of honor down to the lower floor.

President Joseph Sullivan met Elizabeth's gaze and offered her his usual million-watt smile. He was built like the hometown football hero he was, high school championships and college scholarships and a Heisman trophy. Football led to mayor, led to Congress, led to the most important job in the world, and he was just knocking at the door of fifty years old.

Standing beside him, her hand resting in the crook of his right elbow, was First Lady Dawn Sullivan. Black hair and startling blue eyes, the perfect features of a model or actress. Her lips curled into a bemused smile when she saw Elizabeth.

Were you waiting for us, Ms. Caine?

Always, Mrs. Sullivan, Elizabeth said. This way.

The First Lady was Elizabeth's charge, her only job was making sure no one got close enough to touch her. They moved down the slightly angled floor to the doors at the far end of the hall. She spoke into the radio again, guiding the First Couple down the hall. Mountain and Minuet are on the move, she said.

There was a staging area just beyond the doors, and someone came through after she sent her message. Elizabeth hid her surprise that she didn't recognize the man, nodding to him before he spoke. Mr. President, Mrs. First Lady. This way.

Elizabeth followed the agent she only recognized from other engagements through the doors. They could hear the crowd through the large placards that hid their entrance from the audience. Photographers and reporters stood in huddled masses around the stairs that led up onto the stage. The President and his wife stood at the foot of the stairs and awaited their cue.

Elizabeth scanned the gathered people and moved closer to the other agent. Where's Hudson?

He had to check on something, the agent said.

The din of the crowd quieted slightly, and a man's voice boomed over the PA system. Ladies and gentlemen... the President of the United States.

The stadium erupted into cheers. Joseph Sullivan trotted up the steps, and Dawn let her hand slip from his elbow as she followed him onto the stage. Elizabeth followed them both and stopped on the top step, scanning the stage as cameras flashed and the audience cheered. Dawn trailed the President by a few steps, a technique she'd picked up during their original campaign. She said that the people hadn't come to see her; they wanted the main event. The President waved to the crowd as he crossed the stage. When he reached the podium he twisted at the waist and held his hand out to Dawn. Her hand slipped into his, and he brought it to his lips to kiss the knuckles.

When the crowd died down, mostly due to the President shushing them with hand signals, Elizabeth assumed a parade rest, clasping her hands behind her back. There were more security officers at the front of the stage. Elizabeth scanned the crowd, not letting herself become distracted by movement or flashbulbs as the President began his speech.

She couldn't shake the unease that had settled on her when someone other than Theodore Hudson came through the doors. Theo was the President's top agent. What could he possibly have had to check that was important enough for him to leave his post? She turned to ask the other agent if he knew anything more and was stunned to find herself alone at the top of the steps.

Theo's voice filled her ear before she could even start to investigate. "Withdraw Mountain. Repeat, withdraw Mountain now."

Elizabeth didn't think before she moved. She was the closest agent, halfway across the stage before she realized she was moving. She moved at a loping run, hearing her shoes pound the wooden stage even over the President's voice echoing over the public address system. Dawn heard her approach as well and turned to face her, brow furrowed. Elizabeth moved past the First Lady; her duty was to the President now, regardless of assignment.

She put her hand on the President's shoulder, twisting her body to put herself between him and the crowd. Mr. President... she said, already urging him toward the back of the stage.

The President's head erupted in a spray of blood, and his body suddenly jerked as if someone had pulled a string in his back.

Something stung on the side of Elizabeth's head, and it wasn't until she felt the warm flow of blood that she realized she had been hit as well. The President fell in slow motion, tumbling to the stage at an inch per minute, it seemed. Elizabeth reached out her right arm, touching Dawn's outstretched hand as the gunman fired again. Elizabeth saw the bullets hit Dawn in the chest, and then, strangely, she was punched in the back three times.

The three of them fell. Elizabeth's legs tangled with the President's, and Dawn fell like a marionette with cut strings. The President hit the ground, and Elizabeth fell on top of him. She considered how unlikely it was that he would break her fall, her head turned to watch blood spread across Dawn's chest and her beautiful dress. It wasn't until Elizabeth tried to get up that she realized she had been punched by three bullets. She hadn't felt them come out, so they hadn't gone through her and into the President.

She'd caught three out of four bullets. Seventy-five percent.

In any other situation, a passing grade.

Elizabeth finally lost consciousness as the rest of the Secret Service and the medics swarmed the stage.

#

Elizabeth opened her eyes.

She was in a bed, in a yellow room. The door was directly in front of her, and a window was next to it. There were blinds in the window. Elizabeth blinked at the door and window, the humps of her feet under the blanket. She lifted her right arm and saw something clipped to the index finger. It didn't hurt, but she didn't like it. She took it off and dropped it to the mattress. The pillow was comfortable.

Her back didn't hurt. She knew from experience gunshots were supposed to hurt, and she'd been shot three times. She wondered if she had built up a tolerance to that kind of pain.

Someone appeared in the doorway. A nurse. Elizabeth parted her lips to say something to her, but her throat was parched.

The nurse came into the room and pressed a button near the bed. She looked down at Elizabeth and gave a sad, sad smile. Well, look who's here. At least we got one out of three.

Three out of four, Elizabeth thought. I stopped three of the bullets headed for the President. Not that it mattered. The first bullet had done the job well enough.

The nurse looked toward the door. I think she's slipping away again. Call--

The rest was lost as Elizabeth slipped away.

#

His voice was a low, steady rumble. It was comforting, like a hug, so Elizabeth kept her eyes closed as long as possible so he wouldn't stop speaking. Finally, something must have alerted him, because he stopped talking. She could feel him looking at her, so she ended the ruse and opened her eyes.

Theodore Hudson stood at the foot of her bed. He smiled when he saw her, his lips spreading underneath a salt-and-pepper goatee. He was bald, black, and wearing a black suit. He had a cell phone in his right hand, and he closed it before sliding it into his suit pocket. There she is. Good to see you, kid. He picked up a small stuffed panda from a food tray that was angled over her legs. This is from Dana.

Elizabeth parted her lips and discovered her mouth wasn't quite as dry as before. He moved forward and put his hand on top of hers, making her realize just how pale her skin had become.

How bad?

Theo's smile wavered and he looked down at her. You're going to be just fine.

Didn't mean me, she said. But he knew what she meant. The fact he'd diverted was as much of an answer as anything he could have said. The President?

Dead, Theo said. He was killed instantly.

Elizabeth worked up some saliva, delaying her next question. Dawn?

She died on the way to the hospital.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and pressed her head back into the pillow. Theo kept his hand on hers, a comforting weight, and she let it hold her steady. It wouldn't do to sink into depression. She waited until she was sure she wouldn't cry before she opened her eyes and looked at him. He was a definite five or six inches taller than her. The bullet that had cut a trench in her head would have been buried in his shoulder, had he been in her place. If he'd been in the right place.

Where the fuck were you?

Theo seemed to expect the question and shook his head. He started to speak, but a nurse arrived. Theo stepped away from the bed to let the woman do her work, trying to blend into the shadows. While the petite Hispanic woman checked Elizabeth's machines, Theo walked to the door and slipped out into the hall.

How long was I out? Elizabeth asked, staring at the empty space where Theo had just been standing.

The nurse said, Last Monday it was ten months exactly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes. It made sense; even though her injuries had been less severe, the medics had obviously ignored her to focus their lifesaving efforts on Joseph and Dawn Sullivan; she would have been proud to bleed to death if it meant that the President or his wife could have been saved. Apparently it hadn't been enough.

She closed her eyes.

#

Elizabeth left the hospital against medical advice a few days later, signing the papers they gave her as soon as she was able to walk to the bathroom on her own. She had a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans in the tiny closet next to the bathroom, gifts from Theo, she assumed. She changed into them and walked out of the hospital.

She took a taxi to her apartment only to discover it had long since been emptied out and rented to someone else. A second taxi took her to Dana's apartment.

They didn't even call to tell me you'd woken up.

Thank you for getting my stuff from my apartment.

No problem. Come in, sit--

No. I just need my things.

Dana's face closed off and she said, They're here. In the spare room.

Elizabeth packed her things. She checked to make sure she had everything and found Dana sulking in the living room, sitting on the couch with her hands clasped in front of her. I think I got it all.

Okay.

Elizabeth stared at the back of Dana's head. Come on, Dan. You expect me to believe you waited all this time for me? We were only dating for three months when-- Her attention was caught by the TV, by the caption that read 'President Samuel Wallace.' Elizabeth grimaced and looked down at her bags. I guess that's it.

Guess so.

Elizabeth refused to feel guilty as she gathered her things and left the apartment.

She took the cab to a hotel and left her things in a room. It was a short subway ride from there to her office. She ignored the stares as she arrived, crossing the main room without taking her eyes off her destination. She opened the Deputy Director's door without knocking, and he looked up in surprise when he saw who his guest was.

Elizabeth. You're not even supposed to be out of the hospital yet.

She said, This won't take long. She placed her gun and badge on his desk, right next to his keyboard. I hereby resign my position. If you need it in writing, I'll fax you something.

She turned and left the office before he could argue.

#

Elizabeth spent the night in her hotel room. She took a long searing shower, letting the water pelt her head as she tried to wash away the nightmare and get back to the real world. Forty-five minutes didn't do anything to erase the images in her mind, but it did kill the hotel's hot water. She toweled off and wiped the steam from the mirror, finally taking stock of her injuries.

She lifted the hair on the right side of her head and eyed the long straight scar that poked out from under her hairline. It had been well-stitched, and her hair had grown over the line while she was sleeping. It was almost invisible unless someone knew what to look for. The other scars were more evident, once she found a second mirror. Two round scars with rough edges marked her upper right shoulder, and a third was a bit lower near the spine.

The doctor had told her she'd been extraordinarily lucky. Her scapula had taken the brunt of the damage, and it had healed while she was in her coma. The other bullet had hit a rib and traveled south, avoiding all major organs on the way. It required minor surgery to remove the bullets, and she'd received a transfusion from both Theo and Dana to make up for her blood loss.

She put her sweatshirt back on and went into the hotel bedroom. The TV was on for the background noise, and she turned to MSNBC to see what news she had missed. Other than the obvious, of course. She stretched out on the bed in time to hear Rachel Maddow confirm a breaking news story that the Secret Service agent injured in last year's assassination had indeed woken up from her coma.

The news gave a quick recap of the situation. The President had been in the middle of his Pledge to Future Generations speech, a groundbreaking education initiative that he had campaigned on, the fruition of years of hard work. Elizabeth saw footage of herself crossing the stage and wondered if it was video trickery or if she had really moved that slowly in real life. The video cut off before the actual assassination. Twenty minutes later and three blocks from the stadium, a pair of local police working security detail spotted a suspicious man with a sniper rifle. He opened fire on them, and the officers returned fire and killed him.

The shooter was identified as Colin Pine, a retired air force colonel. An investigation revealed that he was associated with a group known for protesting the administration's current policies. The group, calling themselves the Midnight Ride, claimed responsibility for the assassination and warned the now-President Samuel Wallace that continuing his predecessor's ill-advised policies would lead to another attempt.

Elizabeth's stomach turned at the mention of Vice President Wallace. She'd hated the man from the moment she first saw him, and he'd never done anything to make her rethink the first impression. She muted the television and stared up at the hotel room ceiling with her hands laced over her stomach. She wondered if she had resigned because of her abject failure or just so she'd have to hand in her gun. It was comforting to know that she couldn't finish the job the assassin had started.

She spent a sleepless night in the hotel. In the morning, she packed what she needed into a single bag. She had always believed in traveling light, so it wasn't a difficult prospect. She abandoned the other bag, filled mostly with clothes, and took a taxi to the airport. She briefly considered dropping by Theo's home, forcing him to answer the question he had sidestepped at the hospital, but she'd given him a chance.

She thought about her family's cabin and the savings in her bank account. She thought about what, if anything, she would be leaving behind.

The Washington Monument loomed in her window, and she followed it with her eyes as the taxi carried her to Dulles. She had failed her President, failed to protect her charge, and she'd lost nearly a year of her life in the process.

She wasn't leaving anything behind; she had nothing left to abandon.

Chapter Two

One Year Later

There wasn't a path when she started, but she did her best to carve one out for herself. It started at the back of her father's property. She cut down the tall grass and crafted a stamp out of a board and an old rope. She'd once heard that's how people faked crop circles, holding the rope and stepping on the board to stamp all the grass down in an even pattern. It worked well to make her a path through the wilderness.

In some areas, there was very little undergrowth and she didn't have to cut or crush the grass. By the end of her first trek into the wild, she was exhausted and had to sit and rest by a stream until she found the energy to head back. By the end of the first month she was walking it without trouble. After two months, she was running both ways.

Her father had built the cabin in the eighties when she was just a little girl. It was his weekend retreat, his hunting grounds. It was the place she'd first picked up a gun, and the place where her father and Uncle Jerry taught her how to shoot. Her only qualm was shooting at living creatures, so her targets were always hung from trees. Now she was using it for another kind of training; her recovery.

All the furniture had been removed after

Reviews for Guard Me

[Carmela Liwag · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I give it 3.5 stars. I really liked this book but finished it wanting and a little unfulfilled. The pace was nice and the interaction between Kelly and Elizabeth was done really well. However, from a romance perspective, it felt under developed and just thrown in. The relationship between Elizabeth and current love interests were there and then gone. It definitely was not the focus but then scenes that were put in left you wanting to know more...develop it more (hopefully that makes sense). And then, the ending with an Epilogue no less, did not really leave the book finished...closed...fully resolved. Hopefully, there's another book cause I really would like more

[Sherry Barnes · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Slow and anticlimactic really. Where was the chemistry between any of the characters and no real answers. It was a little disappointing.

[Mimi Sanchez · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Excellent novel I like a lot !!!!
Has continuation for this story.