The Guardian

POV: Jake

I've been waiting outside for Mr. Carter to arrive for almost 30 minutes now. I'm becoming impatient and slightly concerned by his tardiness because he's always so punctual. I can generally set my clock by that man's precision and continuity. Because of this detail, my eyes carefully scan the perimeter for any potential security breaches.

My eyes meticulously examine every corner and hidden space of the Manhattan street, making certain I missed nothing. Normally I'd never second guess myself because I'm an expert at what I do. But lately, I've been pretty distracted. I'm  working double duty as Mr. Carter's bodyguard and I'm surveilling Devan Martinez.

I'm an undercover FBI agent investigating someone at Carter Cooperations for money laundering, smuggling and racketeering. His name is Brian Martinez. He's Devan's brother.

The FBI has been investigating him for 2 years now  but haven't been able to get anything concrete on him. That's where I come  in.

Being an ex-special forces operative with a unique set of skills, the Fed's recruited me. They thought I would be beneficial in this case so they arranged my employment as Mr. Carter's bodyguard guard.

My instructions were to insinuate myself into his company, get to know some of his employees and learn more about Brian. Up until 6 months ago, I'd made just as little progress as the other agents before me. Brian's social circle is pretty close knit. However, His  social exclusivity didn't detour  me. I knew I just needed one thing to go my way. And it finally did. His sister Devan came to town to work for the company and I knew she was my way in

. Devan moved to New York from Paris to work in the International Business department as Mr. Carter's Business Development Manager. She's damn good at her job. Mr. Carter often brags about her work acumen when I drive him home in the evenings.

Part of me thinks he has a thing for her because of the way his voice purrs when he speaks of her. It makes me jealous; but who could blame him? She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen and I wish we didn't have to meet under these circumstances.

But unfortunately her connection to Daryl Ortega—a recently acquired FBI informant—has put her in the crosshairs of this Investigation. So I must tread lightly..  

When we finally do meet, I have to remember that any involvement with her is strictly for my cover, and not my pleasure. I can't afford to blur the lines.

We've somewhat cultivated a minimal relationship already. Nothing earth shattering, according to the FBI, but very significant to me. Every time she walks out of the building and sees me standing against the car, she smiles at me, or blushes whenever I look at her. In addition to the nonverbal consumption of our connection, my sources tell me that her friend, Lisa, has been trying to get information about me from the other security team members and employees around the office; which is a good sign for me both professionally and personally. 

There's something definitely happening between us, and her reaction to me lets me know that she feels it too. Devan Martinez has suddenly become my way in; which saddens me a little because I don't want to deceive her because she genuinely seems to be a good person.

I've been surveilling her since she came back to town, trying to rule her out as a suspect. I've seen who she associates with and where she spends her day. Nothing she's done leads me to believe that she's involved in her brother's illegal activities. I've tried communicating this to the FED's with hopes that they would come around and stop them surveillance of her. But my boss told me that if I don't do this, he'll just assign someone else to do it. So here I am.

Watching her was supposed to be strictly professional; but it's gone way beyond that for me. I'm drawn to her. I want to protect and take care of her. I've even fantasized about what it would feel like to be inside her. This fantasy has me so discombobulated that I'm imaging the way she smells , and how her skin would feel underneath my touch.

After I drop Mr. Carter off at his penthouse in the evenings, I drive to her house to make sure she's safe. Although another agent is assigned to watch her while I'm driving Mr. Carter around, seeing her before I got to my loft has become my nightly ritual, a ritual that I don't feel the need to report back to the FBI.

Despite my efforts to protect her privacy, leaving anything I deem unimportant out of my surveillance notes, the FBI has just tasked me with installing software on her phone, hoping that her communications will yield better results than her brother's surveillance. Neither His phone conversation's or his comings and going's has yielded much either. Apparently, Brian's been very careful about what he says on the phone and who he sees.

I'm sure his criminal astuteness has prepared him in far better ways than his sister...she's an innocent. Either way, the agency is hopeful that bugging her phone might get us the information we need to arrest her brother. We're anticipating she'll be far less careful than he is.

This should be simple right? If it was just business for me it would be. Usually I'm laser focused and nothing sidetracks me, but the electricity that flows between us just from proximity alone, makes me want our first official meeting to be special; more organic. Not something scripted and planned. But I have to keep reminding myself that this no fairy tale or love story. I'm about to tear her family apart... and is going to hate me for it.

To add insult to injury, I've recently discovered,  from reading Daryl Ortega's files and transcripts, that his relationship with Devan seems to be more complicated than he's let on. He's left out a considerable amount of his history with her. When she was in college, and worked in Paris, he visited her quite often up until two years ago. After that, no one knows what happened...and he's not saying.

But that's not going to work with me. An informant doesn't get to decide what he will or will not divulge. So I've scheduled a meeting with Daryl and my superiors tomorrow morning because he needs a reminder about of his obligation to the bureau and that he's not in charge here...I am. The bureau also wants to talk to him about throwing one of his infamous parties, so I can meet some of his "clients."

I shake those thoughts from my head so I can focus on the mission in front of me. "One thing at a time Jake..." I whisper to myself, scanning the area again.

It is then that I noticed a Black Sedan peeking out of the alley. A sedan that wasn't there a minute ago. As a precaution, I pull my phone from my jacket pocket and call Mr. Carter. He picks up on the first ring but I speak first.

“Is everything okay, Sir?"

“Yes, I'm so sorry Jake. I forgot to call to let you know that I would be delayed. I'm on the other line with Claud, finalizing the deal we've been working on.  I might be here longer than expected. Can you come back in a couple of hours to pick me up?"

I'm immediately on high alert and start trotting across the street toward the entrance of the building, waving my free hand, to traffic signaling the cars to stop. When I approach the revolving doors, I speak into the phone, hoping to reassure him that I'm on my way with the tone of my voice.

“Sure thing Sir. See you in two hours".

I've known Mr. Carter for well over a year now, and I'm confident about two things: One, Mr. Carter never forgets to call me if he will be late; and two, he completed that deal with Claud over a month ago... he's in trouble.

Once my body swivels through the revolving doors, I gesture to the security guard standing by the reception desk, to follow me. My motions are controlled so I won't alert the commuters, circulating in the lobby, that something's wrong. The last thing I need is to draw unnecessary attention to the situation. If that happens, people will feel entitled to take pictures of whatever the threat may be, record it and Mr. Carter will be on the evening news before I reach the top floor...He would kill me if I let that happen.

“Has anyone signed in to go to Mr. Carter's floor?" I whisper to the guard so only he can hear me.

The security guard, who appears to be in his late 50s,  smirks at me with bravado dripping from his voice. "Some woman in a trench coat said she had a surprise for Mr. Carter, if you know what I mean. So I let her run up without signing in. I didn't think Mr. Carter wanted her on the books."

Damn it"! I curse, stepping around him to the elevator just as the doors are opening. I instruct the guard to rope if the area and prevent anyone else from coming to the top floor. I tell him to call the police and to check out the black Sedan in the alley.