Page 3 of Vanishing Legacy
Alana admired Warren for her bravery in the face of such danger. Protecting her was an honor, as it was with all their clients.
Of course, it had taken some reprogramming for Alana to get used to the bodyguard job. Her training and instincts led her to charge headfirst into danger, but as an Elite Guardian, her mission was to shield and retreat with their client. Except in her current position as point bodyguard. If anyone attacked, Alana would run interference while Noelle and Juliette removed Warren to safety.
A delicate breeze carried the spicy, sweet fragrance of blooming azaleas from the nearby gardens surrounding the concrete fountain. Alana listened to Warren read.
“A second explosion rocked the yacht and knocked Brady off-kilter. Shoot. Where was Kendra? He clutched the rail and searched the churning water for any sign of her,” Warren read.
That would be one crime scene Alana would love to investigate. As a former member of the Los Angeles Underwater Dive Unit, she was no stranger to water crime scenes. She’d conducted countless dive operations in the aftermath of explosions like Warren described in her book. Alana had spent her workdays salvaging evidence and retrieving decomposing bodies from the murky depths.
Diving alone in swift water with almost zero visibility electrified her. Thrilled her to the core. Each recovery was like searching for buried treasure. Far more interesting and exhilarating than standing around waiting for an unbalanced Warren devotee to step out of line.
She sighed and shifted her weight. Maybe she shouldn’t have turned down the job with Georgia’s underwater dive team. After all, what could be more exciting than working beneath the surface of the water?
Alana’s earpiece chirped. The small, high-tech device allowed her to covertly communicate with Noelle and Juliette.
“Any sign of Gould?” Noelle tugged the sleeve of her dark suit to cover her wrist. A habit Alana had noticed.
“Negative, but possible threat, three o’clock,” Juliette said. “Caucasian male, hoodie pulled up.”
Alana spotted the suspect near a park bench. Posture hunched, face obscured by a dark hood, and hands concealed within the pouch of his sweatshirt.
“Good eye. On it.” Alana strolled the path, keeping her eye on the suspect. If this dude planned to harm Warren, the ninety-some-odd people in front of him created a pretty big obstacle. She circled around him and got a good look at his face, but he wasn’t what she expected.
A gaunt face with dark circles around sunken eyes peered at Alana. Knowing sliced through her. Smooth, pale skin. Shoulders hunched from the sheer exhaustion of holding himself upright. All the telltale signs of a body ravished by chemotherapy.
The man turned and gestured for Alana to pass.
“Thanks,” she said, managing a weak smile.
“Status?” Noelle asked.
“False alarm,” Alana whispered into her comms.
“Copy. Ten minutes till Warren’s signing. Stay alert.”
“Copy,” Juliette said.
“I’m doing a little recon along the way back.”
The crowd grew restless. They shifted their weight and inched closer to the stanchions. Once Warren finished reading, a horde of fans would make a mad dash for the book signing line. They’d have to ensure Warren didn’t get trampled in the excitement.
“Hey, you can’t cut!”
Alana stood on her tiptoes and zeroed in on two women. A doughy woman with ragged bangs blocked the path of a tall woman with frizzy red hair. Great. The last thing she needed was a cat fight. She made a beeline for the two women. “Checking a disturbance at your nine.”
“What’s your problem?” The redhead glared at the shorter woman. “I ain’t got no beef with you.”
Alana plastered a smile on her face and adopted her best law enforcement voice. “Ladies, ladies, let’s take this over to the shade so we don’t disrupt the event for others.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The shorter woman shoved a finger in the redhead’s face. “Carrot Top here tried to cut in line, and I’ve been waiting for hours!”
“Get your finger outta my face!” The redhead slapped the finger away.
Seriously. These two were fighting over one spot in line? “Hey, if you two don’t knock it off, you’re both outta here.”
“Not me. Carrot Top can leave.” The woman planted two hands and shoved.
The redhead stumbled and lost her balance.