The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(69)

By the time a small army of cop cars arrived, only she, Hank, and a groaning Solomon were left on the lawn.

The first person to step from the lead car was Simmons, his expression thunderous. He directed the cops with him after the men who had fled, and a few others into the house Solomon used to hide in. Then, he crossed the browning grass, ignoring the criminal himself, to stand above Hank and Juliet.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He demanded, his eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea what we’re going to owe the hotel?”

Juliet’s face flushed as she did her best to process what was happening. Solomon lie prone on the grass. Simmons had arrived. She wasn’t going. “And running straight for Solomon? I thought we agreed that we would discuss any and all plans! What the hell happened, Juliet!?”

“He was going to kill him,” she whispered, her vision blurring with tears of sudden, crippling relief. “I couldn’t let him...I didn’t want to-”

“Christ on a stick, woman.” Simmons threw his hands up as an ambulance arrived and quickly waved the men over to Hank’s battered form. As they loaded him onto a stretcher, he leaned over, holding out the weapon to his superior.

“Fucked up beyond all belief, and still a better shot than anyone on your team.”

It might have been Juliet’s imagination, but she thought she saw a hint of a smile on Simmons lined face.

“Don’t talk, Compton. Can’t you bandage his mouth shut or something?” At the inquiry, the EMT Simmons spoke to merely eyed him in horror and Simmons rolled his eyes. “Just take him.”

When he turned back to Juliet, one look at the longing way she watched Hank drew a long-suffering sigh from him. “You go too. But, so help me God, we need to talk, Juliet. In the hospital if need be.”

“Of course,” She whispered, a moment before bounding off after Hank’s stretcher.

Solomon wasn’t awarded the luxury of a stretcher. Two cops hauled him up from the grass, shattered knee cap and all, and tossed him in the back of a waiting police cruiser.

And just like that, one of the most powerful and violent men in the city was taken into police custody.

But Solomon Aguiler couldn’t have been further from Juliet’s mind. Her thoughts - and her heart - were tied firmly to the man in the ambulance with her. She needed to know that he would be alright.

Everything else could come later.

Now that there was a later to contemplate.





Chapter 15: Redemption


One week later


She supposed she’d gotten off fairly light.

Simmons had been almost predatory, cornering Juliet the moment they wheeled Hank into surgery. Though the doctors had assured her that he’d live, that didn’t make it easier for her to force herself to speak to Hank’s stern superior.

Apparently, the hotel wanted to slap her with a misdemeanor charge for the arson, but he’d managed to deflect it. That didn’t, however, mean that Juliet was avoiding punishment at all. She’d be required to serve one hundred and ten hours of community service supervised by the DOJ - and Simmons had to sign off on it. After all, she was technically still under Federal protection, and would be until they wrung Solomon for all he was worth.

If it had been up to her, Juliet would have lived in the hospital to be by Hank’s side. Though she had come to hate it during the time she spent finding her own feet, recent events had her glued to the sixth floor as often as she was able.

Of course, Simmons had his fill of being lax with her. Even in the wake of taking Solomon into custody, she had a constant detail of three guards on her, none of which were as understanding as Hank. Once, their whispers behind her back and misplaced assumptions might have bothered her, but now, she found she didn’t care. As long as they allowed her to come to the hospital for a few hours each day.

The ride from the new safehouse was a long one, but it was worth it. Hank had needed several broken ribs set and his jaw re-wired. He’d fractured no less than five bones in his face and, though he hadn’t lost an eye, one of them was orbital. There were more stitches in him than Juliet could count and the first few times she’d seen him, he was out cold.

The first time he woke up to see her sitting beside him, he immediately tried to talk. Juliet quickly dissuaded him, as doctors had instructed her to, and, instead, merely handed him a pad to write on. Hank fumbled the first few times but finally managed.

Where’s Solomon?

It was, of course, the first question he’d ask.

“In custody. They’ve been questioning him for a few days - he’s not as hard a nut to crack as he made himself out to be,” Juliet answered with no small amount of satisfaction. Of course, Simmons hadn’t been able to give her all the gory details, but she knew enough to be sure that Solomon Aguiler wasn’t going anywhere for a long time.

It was hard to read Hank’s expression under the swelling, but Juliet thought he might have looked relieved. When she handed him the pad again, he wrote - smoother this time.

I wanted to kill him before I let him touch you again.

Juliet’s breath caught. She thought he might ask about more details from the case - or even when he’d be out of bed. That was more Hank Compton’s style.

This...this was something less expected. “It’s better you didn’t,” She finally managed, once she remembered how to speak. “This way we can take down his father and their entire network. You did amazing, Hank. Like always, I’m sure.” She reached down to touch his hand briefly before forcing herself to draw back. They weren’t in the solitude of a cabin safehouse now. Out and among the world of the living, any relationship between she and Hank would be frowned on, to say the least. And he had enough to worry about without his fellow agents continuing to question him.