The Protector Book 1: His Vow

As our car approached the meeting point, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It wasn’t nerves, exactly. It was more like a string of tension that pulled my spine straight. Undercover operations were high-risk, and this one was more dangerous than most.

The men I was meeting were armed, vicious, and not afraid to exact revenge whenever and however they wanted. The Russians were known for being remorseless. I’d met some Russians during my time in the Marine Corps, and they were not men that I wanted to cross.

…and that was exactly why I wanted to meet them. I’d fought hard to be placed on this CIA Tactical Unit after my time in the Marines. I’d even spent three years learning the Russian language. That skill gave me a fast track to the Central Intelligence Agency job that became my post-military obsession.

And now I was here, nearing the end of mission. Everything was going exactly as I had planned.

One man, Senator Nathan Blanchet, would have to pay for what he did to me. Fifteen years in the making, my revenge was going to be sweet, vicious, and fucking glorious.

And now, with the help of these corrupt Russian fucks, I would finally be able to do it.

Christian, my driver and right hand man, stopped the car outside an old, stately house near Glover Archbold Park. Christian had been in the Marines with me. He knew my past, he knew what was on the line with this operation. He was the only person in the world who knew my past and knew what Senator Blanchet had done to me.

He stared at me as I stared out the window. I knew the area—the Russian Embassy was only two blocks away.

My heart thumped. Fifteen years of hoping, wishing, seething in my own fiery rage—it would all come to a head in the next few weeks. Today was the day that things would finally be set in motion. Senator Blanchet would feel my wrath.

“We’re right here with you, Zane,” the earpiece buzzed. I grunted, ripping it out of my ear. I needed to do this on my own. I could hear the tinny voices in the earpiece as I dropped it in into a hidden compartment in the back seat.

“Zane?” Christian looked at me in the rear-view mirror. His thick, black eyebrows were drawn together in concern.

“They sweep for bugs every time I go near them.” I straightened my tie, avoiding Christian’s piercing blue gaze. It wasn’t exactly true, but it was close enough.

“Those earpieces are undetectable. You shouldn’t be going in there solo.”

“I’d rather be alive and solo than dead with an earpiece.”

I slammed the door behind me and marched toward the big house. A bead of sweat dribbled between my shoulder blades in the muggy, late-August heat. The air felt thick and heavy with summer and the tension of the upcoming meeting. I gripped my briefcase tighter as a sense of calm started to wash over me.

This was it.

This was the moment I’d been waiting for. I’d gained Mikhail Ivanov’s trust as his lawyer, and now I would broker a deal between him and Senator Blanchet that would land them both in prison forever. Today was the day we would start the paperwork that would seal both their fates.

And, if things went the way I hoped, I’d be able to shoot Blanchet myself and blame it on the Russians. No one would blink at a dirty Russian deal gone wrong.

My hand was steady when I rang the doorbell. Years of training in the Marine Corps allowed me to keep my heartbeat slow and my face relaxed. This was another mission, another tour. It just happened to be in my own backyard.

A large wall of muscle opened the door.

“Grigory,” I nodded. My six-foot-three frame looked almost tiny next to the massive Russian. His deep-set, expressionless eyes swept over me. After a few tense seconds, he finally stepped aside.

“Ofis.” He nodded his head down the hallway toward the office, keeping his eyes steady on mine. Even after three years, I wasn’t sure if Grigory liked me or hated me. I was leaning toward ‘hated’.

“Is everyone here?”

“Da.”

Grigory could speak English, but he refused to do it. Three years ago, when I first started the undercover operation, I’d met Grigory in a bar. I’d been tasked with gaining his trust, and that involved vodka—lots of vodka. But as I got drunker, Grigory somehow remained stone-cold sober. He’d put his meaty palm on my shoulder.

“The English language is vague and weak,” he’d told me in his thick, rolling accent. “Just like its people. Speak the language, and you will become it.”

He never spoke English to me again, but I was in. For the next three years, I became Dennis Norton, lawyer and premier counsel to the Russian mob in Washington, D.C. Every bit of trust that I gained was hard-won and even harder to maintain.

But it would be worth it in a few short weeks.

I could still feel Grigory’s eyes on me as I made my way to the office. I heard voices through the thick oak door, and I forced myself to keep my steps measured and my back straight. Showing weakness in here was not an option. I was in the lion’s den.

When I pushed the door open, my heart stopped.

Despite my years of training, I wasn’t prepared for this. A man was sitting across from Ivanov. His name almost slithered through my lips before I stopped myself with a cough. The hatred curled through my chest, gripping my heart like a vice. He didn’t turn to look at me, but I’d recognize him anywhere. I had pictured his pudgy, red face every time I had target practice for the past fifteen years.

Here, in the flesh, was Senator Nathan Fucking Blanchet. My nemesis. My worst enemy. The man I wanted to ruin.

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