Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I smile and turn to my grandmother, who already looks a bit confused. “The curriculum is designed by some of the leaders in the field of military medicine, disaster response, and emergency medical services. We finally get to combine theory with extensive hands-on training and real-world simulations.”
“Really,” Grandma says, intrigued. “Like what?”
My heartbeat quickens. This is my passion, my baby. I love talking about this. “Like how to give advanced trauma support in a combat situation, how to complete emergency surgical procedures without standard preparation, or how to handle a mass outbreak of biological warfare.”
Grandma blinks at me. “It sounds like a TV show.”
I can’t help but grin. “I did have a professor who was a consultant for a production studio in Hollywood.” My heart is heavy, though. I’ll miss her and my mother. They were my rocks my whole childhood. And even though they both heavily sheltered me, it almost made up for the lack of any real presence from my father.
My mother looks out the window as a white SUV pulls up out front. Her breath catches as my eyes water.
How do you say goodbye to the only person who ever truly loved you?
I had to do it at one point, but I didn’t expect this to feel like such a blow. I kiss Mom’s cheek and don’t try to stop myself from crying since it’s pointless. “I’ll miss you,” I whisper in her ear. “I’ll miss you so much.”
“Don’t forget to call,” Grandma says, wiping her own eyes with a handkerchief.
“Of course not!”
“And you will visit at the holidays?”
“I’ll be home by the time we have any holidays of importance,” I say with a sad smile. I have to be the brave one here. I turn to the door and grab my bags but stop and stare when the back door of the car opens.
“Mom,” I say over my shoulder. “You said my bodyguard was meeting me at the airport. Who’s this?”
I stare. This is no tall, lanky man. He’s. . . enormous. Well over six feet tall. Muscled. Tattooed, probably from head to toe. With a menacing scowl, a sharp jawline, and steely eyes that pierce right through me, I feel like I’m staring at a darker, more lethal version of Superman.
Imposing. Rugged. Primal.
Hot.
His dark hair is cropped short, accentuating his chiseled jawline and piercing gaze. Despite his intimidating appearance, there’s a sense of controlled power about him, evident in his precise movements and calculated demeanor.
Did my father just make up for an entire lifetime of neglecting me by going overboard with the bodyguard?
“Oh my God,” Mom whispers beside me. “If Jason Bourne were real. . . And on steroids.”
That’s who I couldn’t quite place. He looks like the assassin from those books I loved and the movies my mother did.
“He’s coming this way,” I whisper to my mother. “Oh my God, he’s coming over.”
I stick my hand out like some weirdo. He stares for a minute and finally engulfs my much smaller hand in his larger, rougher one. I shiver and hope he doesn’t notice.
“I’m Vera,” I say because I always make a point to be polite. “And you are?”
“Markov.” His voice is deep, his tone short and clipped. I barely register the touch of his rough, warm palm against mine before he recoils and bends to take the bags.
Grandma stares at me and gives a knowing nod. My cheeks heat.
“Oh, be careful, that one’s heavy,” I say when he reaches for the book bag, but he lifts it as if it weighs nothing at all. “I can help.” He still doesn’t respond but just takes the bags and puts them in the back of the car. Even the driver doesn’t get out. Wordlessly, he holds the door open and gestures for me to follow.
“Well,” I say in a whisper to my mom and grandma. “I guess this is it. Thankfully he doesn’t seem like he’s into small talk. I hate small talk. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”
“It won’t be,” my mother says in my ear, kissing my cheek. “I am so proud of you, Vera. Go, sweetie. Go catch your flight and call me the minute you touch down!”
“Honey, you don’t need to do any talking with a man like that,” my grandma says, her eyes wide but twinkling.
“Mom!” My mother looks abashed. “That’s her bodyguard.”
My grandma only shrugs. “Even better. Let an old woman have her fun.”
I laugh despite the tears that brim in my eyes.
My new bodyguard stands aloof. Waiting. Hot, yes, but he might as well be carved from stone.
It feels a bit surreal, like I’m on a movie set or something, as I get into the seat, and he shuts the door behind me. It’s warm in here and smells faintly of cinnamon. The driver nods and lifts a hand to me. “Don’t bother talkin’ to that guy,” he says. “He only speaks Russian.”