Thinking of her, I reflect on the photograph Zena provided. It wasn't necessary really, as Lila is one of the most famous women in Europe. Although not in the direct line of royal succession, she wields great influence. Her circle of colleagues consists of people from all walks of life—world leaders, financial moguls, elite entertainers, and even Olympic athletes. She is most known, however, for her work with world medical relief charities. A quick search online and hundreds of pictures of her, in remote villages around the globe appear. Surrounded by locals, her sleeves rolled up as she helps in whatever effort lays in front of her, she seems capable of anything, all the while, her warm smile in place. It is an honor to be assigned to guard her.
I feel the jeep slow and return my focus to the matters at hand. We are arriving at the main lodge, and I am pleased when a sturdy iron gate bars our progress. A security guard exits the shack beside the entrance to greet us. The young man smiles, but I note a determined look in his eyes. This is not a job he takes lightly. He is not some employee appeasing tourists but working with a purpose. Perfect. As he and the driver make a quick exchange in French, I make a mental note of the name on the badge on his shirt as well as scan the rock wall security barrier in both directions to assess for blind spots. It is time to get to work.
“How far is it from here?” I ask the driver as he pulls through the gate to start up the long driveway. “I’d like to walk.” The man slows the vehicle regarding me with a bit of incredulity. Although I am dressed for cold weather and wear proper snow boots, I am here under the guise of being Lila’s personal assistant—not as her bodyguard. Certainly not as military.
“Walk?”
“Yes. To stretch my legs.” This is partially true. The hours of traveling have taken their toll on my long legs. Moving around is a welcome option. I also want to begin getting a feel for the landscape. Slow down and take in my surroundings. “Is that a problem?”
The driver shrugs. “Not to me. It's a quarter-mile uphill to the main building,” he explains as he stops the jeep. As I open the door to get out, he grins. “Don't get lost. If you lose sight of the road, the forests are thick and disorienting.”
I don't take offense. After all, I am just an assistant, and the man has no idea of my years of survival training in all climates. “I will be careful. Please tell them I will be there shortly.” With a wave, he drives on. Once the jeep takes a curve and is out of view, I pause and survey the area. He is right. The forest is only feet from the road and thick with evergreens. Snow clings to the branches making them look even more like an impenetrable wall. This can work both in my favor and against it. Access is limited to the main drive. I will check to see if other service roads are maintained on the property once I get the opportunity. The extra layer of security is welcome. Unfortunately, the forest is also an excellent place to hide an assailant, assuming she is willing to endure freezing temperatures and risk getting lost. I have a strong suspicion Georgia DeLane’s money could be motivation enough for someone to try. Danger could easily lurk there. As I watch, a stiff breeze blows up, making the branches sway as if agreeing with me. An enchanted forest? Considering where I am and the craziness of the last twenty-four hours, I would not be surprised.
With a smile at the rapid, but welcome changes, I pick up walking again. The road is packed snow, but my boots have excellent traction, so travel is easy. The higher elevation though… it surprises me how quickly my breathing is impacted. I will acclimate in a day or two, but I’d hate to try and run down an attacker right now. The best thing will be to keep moving, perhaps snowshoe a trail first thing in the morning to serve two purposes. More recognizance and more conditioning. Skiing is an option as well, and although I am proficient enough at both downhill and cross-country, I am no expert. Time on the slopes is not on my list of objectives while I am here. Not only would it be a distraction, but if I break a leg, the entire mission will be wrecked. Zena is counting on me, and I will not let her down.
Puffing out a breath, I come around the last curve to see the resort’s main building, a giant structure of hewed timbers and natural stone. Five stories and wings to the left and right. It is as majestic as I imagined. Still, I frown. A quick calculation of the possible number of guests, and I realize my task will be even more challenging. Of course, my role is to protect Lila and not try to secure the entire area, but my training won’t allow me to ignore the potential avenues of danger. Georgia DeLane could be checked in as a guest under another name, and it would be difficult to know it. I will simply have to be vigilant.
As I cross to the steps leading to the twelve-foot tall, double, wooden, front doors, I see the jeep and the driver waiting. He grins when he sees me. “You made it,” he says, and again I am not offended. He has no way of knowing I could snap his neck in a moment. All he knows is I am a glorified gopher with a middle eastern accent here to serve a wealthy aristocrat's beck and call. Before I respond, a pair of bellmen come out a discreet side door to fetch my luggage. I might be a no one compared to the guest list of elites staying here, but I will still be treated to seven-star service by the resort staff. The woman I answer to demands it by reputation, even if she would never seek it.
“Thank you,” I say to the two men as they usher me in through the grand doors to the lobby. The space is vast and centered on a towering fireplace. Guests lounge in sofas and chairs, dressed in a variety of attire from those fresh from the slopes to others attired elegantly for dinner. As I follow my luggage, I covertly scan faces. Nothing jumps out at me, and I shake my head at my optimism. As if this assignment would be so easy as to spot our adversary in the first five minutes. No, this task will be a challenge, but one I am eager to embrace. Nothing will distract me from my purpose of keeping Lila safe.
I am about to reach the reception area when I am surprised to hear someone say my name. “Jael?” the voice repeats. “Oh good, it’s you. I’m so glad you were able to make it here tonight.” It’s a lovely woman's voice with a trace of a European accent. Not quite British, as if the speaker has absorbed many different dialects to make her own. Turning, I instinctively smile and then freeze. Walking toward me is Lila, and it is as if a thunderbolt has struck me. Her mature elegance, even dressed casually as if just coming from the slopes, takes my breath away. It is not just her classic beauty, only enhanced by her years, or the twinkle in her blue eyes, but her entire aura. No one has ever attracted me more, and in an instant, I realize this may not be an assignment I can accept.
5
“Well, you are not quite what I was expecting,” Lila says so faintly, I almost don’t hear it, her smile faltering. I am not sure what to make of it. I assumed Zena briefed her on my background, and obviously, she knew who to look for if she spotted me so easily. Still, I can tell my presence has the woman off-kilter.
“I’m sorry?” is all I think to say in response. Lila quickly composes herself, and the warm smile, which I feel to my toes, is back.
“Nothing,” she assures me. “You’re just much… younger-looking than in the photo I was presented with.” She waves an elegant hand at the reception desk. “No need to check in. I’ve arranged everything for you. Unless you need something from your bags, I'm headed up, and I can show you the rooms.”