Page 55 of Unseen Danger

It was possible the grieving dad was the culprit. But would he have attacked another young man to get at the rapper he blamed for his son’s death?

Maybe. Grief and anger made people do things that didn’t make sense.

But Branson wasn’t sure. It would be great, in a way, if the father had been behind everything. Then the threat to his client would be over, now that the man had been arrested.

D-Chop likely wouldn’t press charges, though. Giving handouts and forgetting wrongs—not prosecuting people—was more his style. Half his friends had criminal records, as far as Branson had been able to ascertain.

And with how guilty D-Chop had obviously felt last night, there was no way he’d stick it to the grieving dad.

Branson paused at the door as the memory of D-Chop’s crestfallen, lost expression seemed to block his way.

Why hadn’t he helped him? The answers Branson should’ve given him bombarded his mind. And he’d thought of them in that moment, too. He didn’t have an excuse of being tongue-tied or going blank. He’d known what to say. He just hadn’t said it.

He banged his fist against the doorframe and spun away.

“I’m sorry, Lord.” His whisper filled the silence of the room. “Please forgive me.”

This is what six years in this shallow world of celebrities—parties, greed, sexual obsession, drugs, immorality of all kinds—had reduced him to. He needed to get out.

It’d been exciting at first, like the stepping stone to the future success he’d wanted. He could protect people every day, like he’d dreamed of since he was a kid. He’d trained for this, worked hard, and stayed focused. He’d enlisted in the Navy SEALs at eighteen like Andrew had, gaining the experience and training he would need to be a protector for civilians back home. It had all gone according to plan.

He’d gained a positive reputation among celebrities, except for the dismissal by Modella Hughes. But even her friends knew she was unstable. He’d landed this coveted job with D-Chop that was more than being a bodyguard. It was the final step up he’d needed—managing a security team.

Now he could finally escape this celebrity culture before it reduced him to a shallow, purposeless creature as lost as the clients he protected.

Corporate security would enable him to find fulfillment and meaning in life again. He’d be working with better people in an environment where he could choose his clients and be free to set his own rules. Including the freedom to allow himself and any employees to share their faith openly without repercussions.

But he had to hang on a little longer. See if he could land an investor now that his money had to go to his dad’s treatments.

He ran a hand over his hair. But how could he make sure he didn’t lose his faith in the meantime? That he didn’t fall away from Christ and lose hold of the truth during this time when he had to hide his beliefs from others?

The memory he’d thought of yesterday, his dad reading his Bible, returned to the front of his mind.

Branson had fallen away from the personal Bible study that used to be a staple in his morning routine. He checked his watch.

6:00 a.m.

He still had a half hour before he needed to meet Jazz and Sofia Barrett for a debrief when they went off patrol. No Nevaeh to see today.

He shook off the disappointment that settled in his stomach at the thought. The point he should focus on was that he had time to get in the Word. To remind himself of what was real and most important.

He went to his nightstand and opened the drawer. He frowned. Hadn’t he put his Bible in there?

After a few minutes of searching, he found the thick study Bible. Still in his suitcase.

He sat on the edge of his bed, and Princess jumped up to nestle beside him as he realized he’d better begin with prayer. For forgiveness and help to find his purpose again.

And for wisdom to know if what his gut was telling him was true—that the threat to D-Chop wasn’t over.

The assailant grabbed Nevaeh from behind, her arm latching around Nevaeh’s neck and dragging her backward.

Nevaeh quickly slid her fingers inside the arm that held her and hung her weight to stop the backward drag. She stepped her foot behind the attacker’s leg, then pivoted and snapped her leg to topple her boss.

“Good.” Phoenix jerked a nod as she looked up at Nevaeh from the mat. “Don’t forget to brace your knee into me here.” She tapped the lower right side of her stomach where Nevaeh should’ve had her knee planted to hold her boss down while keeping her extended arm captured.

“Right. I forgot.”

“That’s why we practice.” Phoenix got to her feet in one swift motion. “Go again.”