The rest of us put in our food orders, and we munch on the free peanuts while we wait for our meals to be delivered. It’s not long before our food arrives, and everyone digs in.
When my phone chimes with an incoming text message, I check the screen. It’s from my boss, Shane McIntyre.
Shane: I have a full-time protection assignment that requires medical expertise. I’ll e-mail you the details. Let me know this evening if you want the assignment.
Jason: Will do.
“What was that about?” Liam asks as he sticks a fry in his mouth.
“A new assignment. Shane’s e-mailing me the details.”
“Who’s the client?” Miguel asks.
I shrug. “He didn’t say. He only said medical expertise is required.” As the only bodyguard with any serious medical training, it’s sort of my area.
I enjoy the rest of the evening with the guys, eating good food, drinking lots of excellent beer, and watching the game. I might as well get the most out of my free time before my new assignment begins. I’ll have very little of it for the foreseeable future.
After I leave the bar, I sit in my car and read Shane’s e-mail.
Layla Alexander, 21 years old.
I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard a lot. That poor girl. She’s been through hell and back. The papers were full of stories about how she was rescued recently from a local sex trafficking ring.
I text Shane back, telling him I’ll take the job.
Shane: Great. Come to my office at eight am tomorrow to meet her parents.
* * *
The next morning, I walk into the front lobby of the McIntyre Security office building on N. Michigan Avenue, downtown Chicago. Since it’s the weekend, the place is pretty deserted. Once I’m waved through the front lobby by the guards on duty at the front desk, I take an elevator up to the twentieth floor, where the executive offices are located. Shane’s door is partially open, and I hear muffled voices coming from inside.
I knock, and Shane meets me at the door. “Jason. Thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” Shane’s not just my boss; he’s also a friend. After all, I delivered the man’s first child under severe duress. It’s fair to say we bonded over that traumatic experience.
“Come on in,” he says. “Mr. and Mrs. Alexander are keen to meet you.” He steps aside for me to enter his high-rise corner office.
The parents are seated on chairs facing Shane’s desk.
Shane nods to me as he takes his seat. Behind him is a panoramic view of downtown Chicago. “This is Jason Miller, the bodyguard I was telling you about,” he says to the parents. “He has extensive medical training, which makes him ideally suited to take over Layla’s protection. Have a seat, Jason.”
Martin Alexander—Judge Alexander—offers me his hand. “Hello, Jason.” His voice is deep and authoritative. “Thanks for coming.”
“Good morning, Your Honor,” I say as we shake hands.
“This is my wife, Ruth Alexander,” the man says as he nods to the woman seated beside him.
I shake her hand as well, nodding curtly. Her grip is firm and confident. According to Shane’s e-mail, she’s a district attorney here in the city. “Ma’am. It’s a pleasure.”
These two are a power couple in the local Chicago legal circuit.
Based on the information Shane shared with me, the Alexanders are in their late fifties. They have two children—a twenty-eight-year-old son, Ian; and their twenty-one-year-old daughter, Layla. Both children are adopted. I happen to know Ian personally; I’ve met him many times before, and we have friends in common. I’ve never met the daughter, though.
I’ve been a bodyguard for a few years now, but this is the first time I’ve been interviewed by a prospective client’s parents. I don’t blame them for their heightened concern. I know what their daughter has been through. I read the stories in the news. Not only was she abducted into a sex trafficking ring, but her bodyguard was killed right in front of her. I can only imagine what that poor girl went through.
Her brother, Ian, and his partner, Tyler Jamison, a former Chicago homicide detective, were the ones who rescued Layla, and in the process uncovered a sex trafficking ring. Over a dozen young women were saved that night. Sadly, many of them had already been horrifically abused.
Layla has a complicated medical history, which is now compounded by her recent abduction. Even though she was discovered in less than a day, the physical and emotional damage she suffered was severe.
Martin turns toward me. “I know Shane has updated you on Layla’s situation. I’m sure you know that, in addition to her recent trauma, she is a type 1 diabetic and she suffers from auditory hallucinations. Her diabetes is back under control, but the hallucinations—the voice she hears—has been particularly bad lately.”
The judge looks to his wife.
“Unfortunately, Layla’s not doing well at the moment,” the mother says. “She’s currently under a psychiatric hold at the hospital while her psychiatrist determines if it’s safe to release her. Layla has a past history of inflicting self-harm, and that’s only been exacerbated by recent events. Right now, my daughter refuses to speak to anyone outside of the family and her doctor, so you’ll have your work cut out for you.”
I nod. “Understood. I realize it’ll take time for me to earn her trust. I’m prepared for that.”
Ruth Alexander’s blue eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know how much Shane has told you, but Layla’s previous bodyguard, Sean, betrayed her—he sold her out to his drug dealer, who in turn sold her to the sex traffickers. She has good reason to be distrustful. Your job, besides keeping her safe, is to teach her that it’s okay to trust again. That’s all we ask.”
I can hear the pain in the parents’ voices. The love they have for their daughter is palpable. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to earn her trust.”
“Thank you, Jason,” the father says. “She knows you’re officially coming on board today as her new full-time bodyguard. We asked her to meet with you at the hospital today, but she refused. Please don’t take it personally.”
I nod. “How long do you think she’ll be hospitalized?”
“We hope she’ll be released soon,” Mrs. Alexander says. “Other than having a multitude of bruises, she’s medically fine. Her psychiatrist is working on getting her emotionally stabilized again, as much as possible. We’ve obtained permission from the hospital administrator for you to remain on-site until she’s released. The press has been an issue lately—they keep hounding us for interviews and comments. The photographers are particularly bad. Images of our daughter are very profitable right now given the circumstances. We’re trying to shield her from as much of that as we can.”
“Our daughter is an extremely wealthy young woman,” the father says. “And that makes her the target of unscrupulous people. Her health conditions only complicate the risks. Your job is to keep her safe, while at the same time letting her live as normal a life as possible for a twenty-one-year-old university student. Her mother and I work hard to balance her freedom with safety. It’s a fine line to walk, and it won’t be easy, but we’re counting on you to make it work.”