Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (5 page)

‘How’s my
big man?’ asked his gran, rising slowly from her armchair, as old and worn as she
was.

‘Fine, Gran. And you?’

‘As fit as a fiddle and …’

‘… as right as rain,’ Connor
finished for her.

‘Hey, you cheeky scamp! That’s
my line.’ She laughed, pulling him into a hug. ‘Now, who’s the beauty
behind you?’

Stepping aside, Connor introduced Charley,
who handed his gran a gift box of fine teas.

‘Connor told me you like Earl
Grey,’ she explained.

‘Why, that’s very thoughtful of
you,’ his gran replied, admiring the fancy label on the box. Connor could tell his
gran instantly warmed to Charley by the way she gently patted her hand in thanks.
‘Make yourself at home, Charley, while me and Connor get some tea and
biscuits.’

Connor dutifully followed his gran into the
kitchen, leaving Charley with his mum. He briefly looked back to check that Charley was
all right but they were already chatting happily.

‘Where’s Sally?’ Connor
asked, referring to the live-in carer that the Buddyguard organization provided in
return for his services as a teenage bodyguard.

‘Oh, we’ve given her the
afternoon off since you’re here,’ explained his gran, flicking on the kettle
and taking out her best china from a cupboard.

‘Is that wise?’ asked Connor,
his eyes drawn to the wheelchair in the hall. ‘Mum seems rather … weak.’

His gran paused in making the tea. With a
heavy sigh,
she answered, ‘Your
mum’s having a relapse. She won’t admit how much she’s suffering.
That’s why she insisted on greeting you at the door, despite my protests. She
wanted to prove to you she’s doing well. Didn’t want you worrying at
school.’

Connor glanced into the living room, where
his mum now sat by the fire, the tremor in her hands still visible. Despite everything
he was doing to provide their live-in care, he still felt powerless to help her where it
mattered most. He wished he could somehow
protect
his mum from the disease,
rather than merely help ease her suffering.

His gran saw the anguish in his face.
‘Don’t worry, my love. Your mum’s keeping up her spirits. And
Sally’s a godsend. I honestly don’t know how we’d cope without her
help. Anyway, your Charley seems a lovely girl,’ his gran remarked, changing
topics as she popped three Earl Grey teabags into the pot and poured in hot water.
‘So what’s the story with you two?’

‘We’re just friends,’
replied Connor, realizing where this was leading.

Gran gave him a look.

‘No, really,’ insisted
Connor.

‘I believe you,’ she said with a
knowing smile as she arranged some biscuits on a plate. ‘But I hope you
don’t mind me saying, she seems an unusual choice of student to be in a
“school” like yours.’

Unlike his mum, Connor’s gran knew the
truth about the ‘private boarding school’ he attended. Although Colonel
Black had sworn him to secrecy as the Buddyguard
organization relied on its covert status to function
effectively, Connor had realized his gran was too sharp-witted to be fooled. She’d
have seen straight through any lies. So, trusting his gran implicitly, he’d told
her about the deal – the scholarship programme set up by Buddyguard to fund their care
and his education in exchange for becoming a bodyguard. She hadn’t liked the
proposal one bit, yet was a realist when it came to their family’s desperate
situation. She’d also recognized his late father’s steely determination in
him – a determination that had made his father the best of the best: a soldier in the
SAS. So, while not giving her full blessing, she’d accepted his decision to
join.

From the living room, Connor heard Charley
laugh at something his mum said and just hoped his mum wasn’t telling any
embarrassing stories of him as a boy.

‘So what happened to Charley?’
pressed his gran, picking up the tea tray. She directed her gaze to the wheelchair
Charley sat in.

Connor barely noticed it any more. Charley
had made clear, both in words and action, that her chair did not define her. ‘I
don’t know exactly,’ he replied. ‘She’s never told me. It
happened before I joined, on an assignment.’

His gran almost dropped the tray, the cups
clattering and the pot splashing steaming tea on to the lino floor. ‘
On an
assignment!
’

Unable to meet his gran’s hard stare,
Connor grabbed a cloth from the sink to wipe up the mess.

Putting the tray down on the worktop, his
gran looked thoughtfully out of the kitchen window. ‘It doesn’t seem
right that this colonel of yours is allowed
to recruit young people for such a dangerous job. Sacrificing their futures to protect
others.’ She shook her head in sad disbelief. ‘What is the world coming to
when an organization like this is even
needed
?’

Connor’s gran turned back to him, her
expression set. ‘I’m no longer comfortable with this Buddyguard arrangement.
Not any more.’

‘But, Gran, I can assure you, the
risks are minimal,’ insisted Connor. ‘We’re very well trained and plan
for all eventualities.’

‘Obviously not
all
eventualities,’ retorted his gran, directing her gaze to Charley in the living
room. ‘I want you to quit. Before something terrible happens to you.’

‘But I can’t,’ argued
Connor. ‘It pays for all the care you and mum need.’

‘I know … I know,’ said his
gran, taking a step towards him and cupping his face between her palms, just like she
used to when he was a little lad. She studied it with a pained expression of love and
deep concern. ‘There’s so much of your father in you. And of course I
realize this organization pays for our care. But at
what
cost
exactly?’

‘You two took your time,’
remarked his mum, breaking away from her conversation with Charley as Connor and his
gran came back into the living room. ‘We thought you must have been scoffing all
the biscuits!’

‘No, dear, I just spilt some tea on
the floor,’ Gran explained, settling into her armchair.

‘But it’s all cleared up now,
isn’t it, Gran?’ said Connor as he placed the tray on a side table.

In return, she offered him a tight-lipped
smile. After much persuasion, he’d managed to convince her that he should continue
being a bodyguard, at least for the time being. He’d assured her that he
wasn’t assigned to the next mission so would be safe back at HQ. His gran had
relented, albeit reluctantly, but only on the proviso they’d discuss the issue
again at the Easter break. She was adamant that he shouldn’t be risking his own
life to pay for their care. Connor, however, felt differently. With his father dead, he
had a responsibility to provide for his family, especially when their needs were so
great – even if there were risks.

Connor certainly
wasn’t blind to the dangers. He’d faced deadly situations on both his
missions so far. But his training, and admittedly some luck, had helped him to survive.
Besides, he didn’t
want
to leave Buddyguard. The intensity of the
training and the pressure of being on a mission had forged an invisible bond between the
members of Alpha team. They were now his closest and most trusted friends. He
didn’t want to break that bond, especially with Charley.

‘I like your hairstyle in this
photo,’ said Charley, holding up a picture of him at five years old. He was
wearing just a pair of shorts and held an ice lolly in one hand. His green-blue eyes
were bright with delight and his dark brown hair was shaped into a humiliating bowl cut,
a far cry from the spiky modern style he now sported.

Connor squirmed with embarrassment when he
realized his mum had pulled out the family album. ‘Mum! That’s
not
cool.’

‘But it’s a mother’s
prerogative to embarrass her teenage son,’ she said, sharing a mischievous wink
with Charley. ‘In fact, I was thinking of telling Charley about the time you put
your underpants on your head and –’

‘No!’ cut in Connor,
mortified.

Charley suppressed a giggle and pointed to
another photo of him dressed as Superman. ‘You were so cute as a little boy. What
happened to you?’ she teased.

‘I decided to keep my alter ego
hidden,’ replied Connor, retrieving the family album from her and returning it to
its rightful place on the shelf. He gave Charley an imploring look. ‘Please
don’t tell anyone back at school.’

‘Too
late.’ She held up her smartphone. ‘I’ve shared it online.’

Connor’s jaw dropped in dismay.
‘You’re not serious, are you?’

Charley and his mum burst into laughter.

‘Would I do something like
that?’ Charley replied with an impish curl of her lips. ‘Although I might
save a copy, just in case I need to keep you in line!’

Hoping to move swiftly on from the
cringeworthy photos, Connor poured out the tea and handed everyone a cup.

‘Shall we give Connor his birthday
present now?’ his gran suggested as he sat down beside his mum on the sofa.

Nodding, his mum produced a parcel from
behind a cushion.

Connor unwrapped the gift to reveal a black
knitted jumper.

‘Thanks … it’s lovely,’ he
said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

‘To keep you warm in the
Brecons,’ explained his gran. ‘I resisted the urge to knit a snowman on the
front. I thought that wouldn’t be very hip for school.’

‘Quite right,’ agreed
Connor.

‘Why not try it on?’ encouraged
his mum.

Connor unfolded the jumper and that’s
when he discovered the other gifts: a medal embossed with an American eagle and a
survival knife.

‘These were my dad’s!’ he
exclaimed breathlessly. Connor swallowed hard as he found himself overcome
with emotion. Following his father’s
death, his mum had kept such things in a memory box, along with photos and other
personal items that defined his father.

‘Well, they’re yours now,’
declared his mum with a bitter-sweet smile. ‘I’ve checked with your school
and there’s no problem taking the knife back with you. In fact, your head teacher,
Mr Black, positively encouraged it.’ She raised an eyebrow to express her
surprise. ‘I don’t know if I ever told you, but that medal was awarded
posthumously to your father for saving a US ambassador’s life.’

Connor nodded. ‘Yeah, he’s now
the president of the United States,’ he said without thinking.

‘How do
you
know that?’
exclaimed his mum. ‘I don’t think I was even told the ambassador’s
name.’

Connor immediately tried to backtrack. He
only knew this fact because, on his first assignment to protect the US president’s
daughter, he’d met the man himself, who had told him about his father’s
heroic sacrifice. ‘I … must have read it in a newspaper.’

‘Would you like some more tea, Mrs
Reeves?’ asked Charley, intervening before his mum could interrogate him further.
Connor realized that if she discovered about his secret life as a bodyguard it would
bring an end to everything, however much she was in need of proper care. And although he
didn’t like deceiving his mum, in this case, the ends justified the lie.

‘Erm … yes please,’ replied his
mum, holding out her cup with a tremulous hand.

While the others drank their tea and Charley
led the
conversation away from US presidents,
Connor, avoiding his mum’s quizzical gaze, examined his father’s survival
knife. The handle was made of rosewood, well oiled and smooth to the touch. When he slid
the blade out of its leather sheath, he could see that it was razor sharp and in perfect
condition. Holding the knife in one hand and the medal in the other, memories of his
father came flooding back, in particular those of their camping trips together –
cutting down branches and making a bivouac shelter, using a flint-and-steel to
start a campfire, skinning a rabbit and cooking it over the open flames, lying
beneath the night sky and learning how to navigate by the stars …

‘Would you help me clear away,
Charley?’ said his gran quietly.

‘Sure,’ replied Charley, moving
the tea tray on to her lap.

When the two of them had left the living
room, Connor’s mum edged closer on the sofa and put her arm round him. Connor let
himself be drawn into her comfort, allowing the grief for his dead father to flow
out.

Eventually, wiping his eyes with the back of
his hand, Connor looked up. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said, hugging her. ‘This
is the best present possible.’

‘I’m glad you like them,’
she said, kissing him on the forehead. Then lowering her voice and glancing towards the
kitchen, she asked, ‘So is this the girl who’s been distracting you from
your school work?’

Connor felt his cheeks flush.
‘She’s just a friend,’ he insisted.

‘Well, she’s lovely.’ His
mum tousled his hair
affectionately.
‘And you’re such a good boy. Always looking out for others.’ Her
expression became solemn again. ‘Now please don’t get me wrong when I say
this, but do you really need to burden yourself further?’