The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(6)

Insubordinate his ass. Hank felt capable of murder at this exact moment, and pencil necks snapped easily. With extreme reluctance, he stepped into his superior’s office. He barely waited until the door was closed before he rounded on the man who had called him there, his expression thunderous. “Look, Simmons, I know that the politics around here is a joke, but this is fucking abuse. How am I supposed to be of any fucking use to anyone if I can’t function? I need some downtime and-”

“We might have an in with the Aguilers.”

Hank’s mouth snapped shut so fast he almost bit off his tongue. For a long, protracted moment, he stared at Simmons, who met his gaze calmly. The man had been his superior for the past five years, and, if anyone was used to dealing with his brusqueness and outbursts, it would have to be him. He could be annoying as hell, but he was far from the worst supervisor you could get working in this business.

For all of Hank’s blustering and demands, Simmon’s could have had his balls several times over - but he was a tough man to rile, and even tougher to intimidate. Hank supposed he could respect that. “...The Aguilers.” Hank crossed immense arms over his chest as he stared Simmons down with calculating gray eyes. “So you called me back from my leave?”

But playing coy wouldn’t help him now. He was already here, and it was clear that Simmons saw very clearly where his weakness lie. Probably had for years.

His history, Hank knew, was one of the reasons Simmons had so actively sought him for the department in the first place. He was unique in that he hadn’t been primped and polished especially for work like this. He hadn’t been raised with some fucked up goal of wanting to work for the government. In fact, he hadn’t even undergone any of the special training for his position until he signed on - and that had been a pain in the ass.

“If you don’t want in on this,” Simmons looked him dead in the eye. “You’re free to go. I just thought you’d be the man to call first.”

It was probably the closest Hank would ever get to a compliment - but that was only the tip of the iceberg. “If you’re trying to sweet talk me, it won’t work.” Hank growled, sinking down into a chair before the older man’s desk. “Tell me what I need to know and then I’ll make my decision.”

Who was he kidding?

The moment Simmons mentioned the Aguilers the decision was all but made, but the old man didn’t have to know that. It was better if Hank at least tried to keep him on edge.

But Simmons was too wily for his own damned good. As he leaned against the edge of his desk, a small smile played about the edges of his mouth. “How is that vacation going, Hank?”

Hank glared at him. He didn’t talk about his personal life at work - why would he? He didn’t have a wife and kids to chat about around a water cooler and he wasn’t the type to gossip about the latest episode of whatever TV show was on. Added to that equation was the fact that he didn’t even have a real office - he was the black sheep of the department. Even if he wanted to talk to people, they’d still avoid him like the plague. “It’s not going at all, currently, and I’d like to get back to it; so let’s cut to the chase here.”

“Alright then.” Simmons reached back to pluck a folder from his desk. Extending it to Hank, he finally began divulging the goods. “Take a look at this. All the images were taken about a week ago.”

Frowning, Hank flipped the folder open. The very first image was enough to make every muscle in his body go painfully taut.

It was the Aguiler Manor.

Everyone knew where it was - about fifteen minutes outside the city in the mountains. People from out of town always wondered who lived there and the people from town stayed away as if their lives depended on it - which they did. Anyone snooping around the manor tended to go missing, and bodies were found in deplorable condition.

But Hank wasn’t looking at a body now. He was looking at the front gates of the manor - busted open as if someone had driven a tank through them - and, indeed, the next image showed what looked like an armored truck in the middle of the usually pristine lawn.

And that was just the start.

The entire manor looked like a war zone - there were fires in the back gardens, numerous windows were shot out and there were at least twenty bodies littered over the grounds. Hank went through picture after picture, torn somewhere between elation and fury that he hadn’t been the one to destroy them like this.

“What happened?” He demanded in a low tone, as he glanced over images of the interior of the compound. There were more bodies - Aguiler guards along with staff members Hank had to admit didn’t deserve such a gruesome fate.

“The Torrells were a little pissed at how the territory was recently reappropriated.” Simmons replied in a flat tone, “So they beat the door down to send a message.”

Hank scowled. “Unless they shot Caesar and Solomon Aguiler dead they didn’t do shit. And I’m guessing you didn’t call me here to tell me you found their bodies.”

Simmons ran a hand through his graying hair. “None of the Aguilers were found on site. They were apparently ramping up for some yearly event and the Torrells took the opportunity to hit them hard. They lost the manor - that’s no small thing.”

“Please,” Hank growled, glaring daggers at the man above him, “You and I both know that nothing can stop them except six feet of wet fucking soil, Simmons.” He tossed the folder back onto the desk, seething quietly. “Are you going to tell me why you really brought me here?”