Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(13)
Connor looked out across the open fields, deserted apart from a flock of windswept sheep. ‘Why the high-tech security? This isn’t exactly a thriving metropolis.’
‘There’s no point protecting others if we can’t protect ourselves,’ replied Amir. ‘That’s one of the basic rules of bodyguarding. Also, only a handful of people know about Buddyguard’s existence – that’s one reason why we’re so effective – and Colonel Black wants to keep it that way.’
Stuck in the middle of Wales, Connor wondered if the colonel wasn’t being a little paranoid. ‘Then we should watch out for those terrorist sheep!’
Amir responded with a dry chuckle. ‘Just wait till you start training. You’ll be stunned at what lengths the enemy will go to.’ He glanced at Connor’s backpack. ‘Have you brought a laptop?’
Connor shook his head. He only had an old battered PC at home.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort one out for you tomorrow.’ A mobile phone pinged in Amir’s back pocket. ‘That means dinner’s served. You must be starving after the journey.’
Making their way downstairs, they headed through to the dining hall. Fifteen or so boys and girls were gathered at one end, sitting at circular tables, chatting and eating. To their left was an open serving area, steaming with freshly cooked food. Passing Connor a tray, Amir grabbed a large plate and helped himself. Connor’s mouth watered at the impressive spread of pasta, chicken, curry, rice and even steak.
‘This is nothing like school dinners,’ he remarked, shovelling a mound of chips to go with his rib-eye and mushrooms.
‘The colonel believes an army marches on its stomach,’ Amir replied, taking a pineapple juice from the chiller. ‘And, trust me, you’ll need the energy!’
With plates piled high, Amir led Connor over to a table nearest the window, where four other recruits sat.
‘You remember Jason?’ said Amir, arching an eyebrow at Connor.
A broad-chested lad turned round. With dark tousled hair and an anvil jaw, Connor couldn’t forget his face … or his fists.
‘G’day!’ said Jason, an Aussie twang now noticeable in his speech. He offered one of his hammer-like fists in greeting. Connor took it and was subjected to a bone-crushing handshake.
I’m off to a great start here! thought Connor, trying not to wince. ‘You’re Australian then?’
‘He sure is! But don’t hold that against him,’ teased the Chinese girl perched next to Jason and half his size. She’d lost her emo make-up and was now dressed in jeans, pumps and a red sleeveless T-shirt. ‘I’m Ling. How’s the leg?’ she asked with an impish twinkle in her half-moon eyes.
‘Fine,’ said Connor, releasing himself from Jason’s iron grip. ‘How’s the arm?’
Ling smirked. ‘Not as bad as you’d have ended up, if Jody hadn’t saved you.’
‘Saved me?’ Connor responded, remembering the situation differently, but Amir cut in.
‘I wouldn’t argue with Ling. She always wins her fights.’ He sat down beside the boy with bleached blond hair. ‘This is Marc; he’s from France.’
Marc had replaced the gang fashion with a more stylish Ralph Lauren shirt and white jeans. Dark shadows circled his eyes, the after-effect of his bruising encounter with the skateboard.
‘Bonsoir,’ he greeted, then with only the trace of a French accent asked, ‘How was the journey?’
‘Long!’ remarked Connor. As he took his place next to Amir, his eyes were drawn to the girl sitting opposite him. Perhaps a year older than the others, with tanned skin, sun-kissed blonde hair and a radiant smile, she looked like she’d just stepped off a Caribbean beach. She wore a black halterneck top with a winged-shield badge in gold.
‘I hear you beat Jason,’ she said in a soft American accent like honey. ‘That’s a first.’
‘I held back,’ Jason growled in protest. ‘Didn’t want to hurt the newbie.’
The girl gave a noncommittal nod. ‘Of course you did!’ she smirked.
In an effort to smooth over his rocky start with Jason, Connor interjected, ‘Well, to be fair … he did telegraph that first punch.’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Jason, a little too quickly.
The girl glanced at Connor, her sky-blue eyes appraising him. Seeing straight through his white lie, the corner of her mouth curled up into a knowing smile. ‘I’m Charlotte. But everyone calls me Charley.’
Connor smiled back, hoping the flush in his cheeks wasn’t noticeable. He was usually fine around girls. But, for some reason, this one made him feel a touch self-conscious. Opting for a safe opening question, he asked, ‘Where in the States are you from?’
‘California,’ she replied. ‘Buddyguard gathers recruits from around the world.’ She pointed to the other tables. ‘For example, José is from Mexico, Elsa from Germany, David from Uganda, Luciana from Brazil.’
Connor glanced around the hall, the tables only half-full. ‘Are these all the buddyguards?’
Charley shook her head. ‘Most are on assignment. But no more than twenty of us are usually here at any one time.’
‘So where’s the skater boy who attacked me?’
‘Richie’s in Ireland,’ Amir replied, through a mouthful of rice.