Hostage (Bodyguard #1)(7)

‘Four?’ repeated the police officer, jotting down more notes. ‘Yet you took them on alone.’

Connor nodded, conceding, ‘I know a bit of martial arts.’

The officer flicked through the files. ‘It says here you’re a black belt in kickboxing and jujitsu. I don’t call that just “a bit”.’

Connor’s breath caught in his throat.  How come the officer has this information to hand? What else do they know?

‘That’s … right,’ he admitted, wondering if this would count against him. His instructors had always warned him to be careful using his skills outside of the dojo.

‘So let’s get the story straight,’ said the policewoman, putting down her pen and looking Connor squarely in the eye. ‘You’re saying you put your life at risk for a complete stranger.’

Connor hesitated. Am I about to plead  guilty to an offence?

‘Well … yes,’ he confessed.

A hint of a smile passed across the policewoman’s lips. ‘That takes guts,’ she said approvingly.

Connor stared in astonishment at the policewoman’s unexpected praise. The officer closed her file, then looked up at the policeman and nodded.

He turned to Connor. ‘Well done, you’ve passed.’

Connor’s brow furrowed in bewilderment. ‘Passed what?’

‘The Test.’

‘You mean … like a school exam or something?’

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Real-life combat.’

Connor was now even more confused. ‘Are you saying that gang were a test for me?’

The policeman nodded. ‘You displayed instinctive protection skills.’

‘Of course I did!’ he exclaimed, feeling his frustration rise. ‘The gang attacked me –’

‘That’s not what we mean,’ interrupted the policewoman. ‘You showed a natural willingness to defend  another person.’

Connor got up from his seat. ‘What’s going on here? I want to call home.’

‘There’s no need,’ she said, offering a friendly smile. ‘We’ve already informed your mother you may be running a little late.’

Connor’s mouth fell open in disbelief.  What on earth are the police up to?

‘We’ve had our eye on you for some time,’ revealed the policewoman, rising from her chair and perching on the side of the desk, her manner becoming more relaxed and informal. ‘The attack was set up to test your moral code and combat skills. It had to be authentic, which meant we  couldn’t warn you. That’s why we used trained operatives for the assignment.’

Trained operatives? thought Connor, nursing his split lip. No wonder they were so skilled at fighting.

‘But why?’ he demanded.

‘We needed to assess your potential to be a CPO in the real world.’

Connor blinked in surprise, wondering if he’d heard right. ‘A what?’

‘A Close Protection Officer,’ explained the policeman. ‘By placing yourself in harm’s way to protect another, you proved you have the natural instinct of a bodyguard. You can’t teach that. It has to be part of who you are.’

Connor laughed at the idea. ‘You can’t be serious! I’m too young to be a bodyguard.’

‘That’s exactly the point,’ replied a voice from behind in a clipped military tone.

Connor spun round and was shocked to find the silver-haired man from the tournament standing right behind him.

‘With training, you’ll make the  perfect bodyguard.’





‘My name is Colonel Black,’ the man said, introducing himself with a curt nod of the head. Dressed in pristine chinos, polished black boots and a khaki shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his appearance conveyed a life spent in the forces. Up close, Connor could see the man had craggy features and a strong chiselled jaw. His demeanour was at once disciplined and authoritative, his flint-grey eyes never wavering from Connor’s face. And although he looked to be in his late forties he possessed the physique of a man ten years younger – broad-chested with tanned, muscular forearms. Only a ragged white scar cutting a line across his throat detracted from this flawless image, no doubt the result of active service.

‘I was most impressed with your performance today, both in and out of the ring,’ he stated. ‘You displayed true grit. Even when the odds were stacked against you, you didn’t give up. I like that in a recruit.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Connor, too bewildered to say anything else. Then the colonel’s words hit home. ‘What do you mean, recruit?’

‘Take a seat and I’ll explain.’

His invitation wasn’t quite an order, but Connor felt compelled to sit down anyway. The colonel walked round to the other side of the desk and took over the proceedings from the two police officers.

‘I head up a close protection organization known as Buddyguard.’

‘Buddy-guard?’ Connor shrugged. ‘Never heard of it.’

‘Few people have. It’s a highly secretive operation,’ the colonel admitted. ‘So, before I continue, I must stress this information is classified in the interests of national security and not to be repeated – to anyone.’