19. One Lucky Vampire - Argeneau.pdf

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Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
An Excerpt from The Switch
About the Author
By Lynsay Sands
Copyright
About the Publisher
One
“L
ast day of this assignment.”
Jake nodded silently, but didn’t look at Dan Shephard, the blond man at his side and his partner for this
job. Instead, Jake’s eyes were busily sliding over the crowd that had gathered around the hotel entrance
where their client stood answering questions. It was supposed to look like a spur of the moment thing,
their client stopping to answer a few of the many questions shot at him by the press who always followed
him on visits like this. It was supposed to make him seem more accessible and less the dangerous dictator
he was. But it wasn’t spur of the moment. Jake, Dan, and the rest of the security team had been told that he
was going to stop and answer questions and that they weren’t to rush him into his vehicle and whisk him
away as would be the norm. Instead they were to let him “do his thing” and just keep an eye out for
trouble. Jake was doing just that, keeping an eye out, looking for any possible threat.
“Damn good thing it’s almost over too,” Dan added grimly. “One more day of watching out for this
arrogant, demanding prick and I might be tempted to kill him myself.”
That comment made Jake’s mouth twitch with amusement. Their client was definitely an annoying,
arrogant, and demanding bastard. But then, what else could you expect from a foreign dictator? Besides,
working as professional protection in Ottawa meant that a lot of the people they were sent to guard were
arrogant, demanding, or annoying. At least on the outside. Some were a different case inside and just
acting up out of fear or stress, but not all. This client was as arrogant, demanding, and annoying inside as
he acted on the outside. But, they were hired to do a job and you couldn’t like every client, he thought
philosophically.
“He flies out at eight, right? Then we’re done?” Dan asked.
Jake nodded, but his eyes had narrowed on a man in the crowd. The fellow wore a baseball cap and
jean jacket. He was also eyeballing their client. Of course, most people there were, but there was just
something about Ball-Cap Boy that was raising alarms in Jake’s head.
“Four more hours then,” Dan muttered, glancing at his wristwatch. “Four more hours . . . and counting,”
he added dryly. “Want to go for a drink afterward? I know I need one after a week with this bast— Where
are you going?”
Jake heard the question, but didn’t stop to answer. He was hurrying through the crowd toward Ball-Cap
Boy, every muscle in his body straining to get there in time as the man pulled a gun from the waistband at
the back of his jeans and began to level it at their client.
“T
hat was one hell of a catch,” Dan said, slapping Jake on the back six hours later as they headed out of
Protection One’s swanky offices and approached the elevators. Their four hours of work had turned into
six thanks to Jake’s stopping and apprehending the assassin in the baseball cap. First there had been the
police and all their questions to deal with and then they’d had to fill in their boss, Hank Latham, on what
had taken place.
Now, they were finally leaving work, two hours later than expected.
“I don’t know how you did it,” Dan continued, shaking his head as the elevator doors opened and they
stepped on board. “Hell, I didn’t even track the guy as a problem, but I sure as hell couldn’t have moved
as fast as you did. You flew through that crowd.”
“Adrenaline,” Jake muttered, glancing at his watch.
“You gotta love adrenaline,” Dan commented, slapping him again as Jake pushed the button for the main
floor. As the doors closed, he commented, “So we get a couple of play days before the next assignment.
Want to go for a drink to celebrate?”
“Can’t. I’m meeting someone for dinner and I’m already late,” Jake said, leaning back against the
elevator wall and crossing his arms. He wasn’t really sorry he had to decline. He liked Dan, he was a
good guy, but Jake wasn’t much of a drinker. Alcohol did little for him.
“Someone? Like a lady?” Dan asked with a grin.
“Someone, like sort of family,” Jake said evasively.
“Sort of family?” Dan prodded.
Jake hesitated, and then said, “Yeah. You know, that older lady who isn’t really a relation but your
parents make you call aunt.”
“Ah,” Dan grimaced. “Yeah. I have one of those myself, a lifelong friend of my mom’s. She and her
hubby hang with my parents all the time and she’s been ‘Aunt Betty’ most of my life. Dotty old biddy now,
but good-hearted.”
“Yeah, this is the same deal,” Jake said, ignoring the twinge of guilt the words caused. The lady in
question was old as hell, but “dotty old biddy” didn’t exactly fit her.
“Well . . .” Dan eyed him silently, and then smiled wryly and said, “I’m kind of glad to hear about this
aunt who’s not an aunt. You never mention family. I was beginning to think you were hatched or
something.”
“Nah. There just isn’t much to talk about,” Jake said quietly. “Most of my family live on the West Coast
or out of the country. Haven’t seen much of them the last few years or so.”
“Ah.” Dan nodded. “So . . . ? Siblings? Parents still alive? Kissing cousins around?”
Much to Jake’s relief he was saved from answering the probing questions when they reached the main
floor and the doors began to open. Moving forward, he said, “See you in a couple days,” over his
shoulder.
“Yeah.” Dan said, following him off the elevator.
Jake hurried for the building’s exit, but his expression was tight. He knew damned right well that
wouldn’t be the end of the questions. Dan would repeat them at the first opportunity, and have a dozen
more.
Putting away that worry for now, Jake pushed through the front doors and turned right, moving quickly.
He was supposed to have been at the restaurant ten minutes ago. Fortunately, the Protection One offices
were downtown, just around the corner and down the street from where he was headed. A three- or four-
minute walk if he moved fast.
Of course, it was possible he was rushing for nothing. His dinner companion may already have given up

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