17

“What’s going on with your grades in math? You got As and Bs in your other subjects, but a C in math.”

Connor groaned down the phone. “Mum . . . I’ve had a few other things on my mind recently.”

“Like what?”

Connor didn’t know how to answer that. His mother had no idea he was training and operating as a professional bodyguard. She’d been told that he was attending a boarding school for gifted and talented athletes, the cost sponsored by a special government scholarship program. That’s why his mother received a report card only for the standard subjects. His appraisals in the other areas, ranging from world affairs to unarmed combat to anti-ambush training, went directly to Colonel Black.

“It’s difficult to explain,” he admitted.

“Oh . . .” she said, a knowing tone entering her voice. “You mean, a girl?”

Connor shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other and felt a flush fire his cheeks at her line of questioning. “No, nothing like that,” he protested.

“Listen, you can’t let girls distract you from your work,” said his mother, ignoring his protest and thinking she knew better. “They’ll cause you enough trouble when you’re older.”

Connor could think of two girls—Emily and Chloe—who might cause him trouble a lot sooner than that.

“Can we talk about something else?” he urged. “Like you. How are you doing?”

“Oh, really well, thanks,” she replied cheerily. “Improving day by day with Sally’s help.”

Connor listened as she told him how her live-in caregiver had encouraged her to take vitamin D and do some light yoga exercises. This, along with a recent course of acupuncture, had really helped to ease her symptoms. However, all the while his mother talked, Connor could tell from the strain in her voice that she was putting on a brave front. As a sufferer of multiple sclerosis, she had difficulty with coordination and balance, was easily fatigued, and was often struck with numbness or grinding pain.

Her condition, along with his aging gran’s needs, had been the primary reason for Connor agreeing to join Guardian. In return for his service, Colonel Black had offered a complete care package for his mum and gran. Such health support was way beyond the financial reach of an unemployed army widow like his mother. And, at the time of the offer, his family had already been struggling with basic day-to-day living costs. The colonel’s deal was a virtual godsend. But as part of the deal, Connor couldn’t reveal to her his true role. The highly secretive Guardian organization relied on the fact that few people knew of its existence, allowing teenagers like Connor to act as invisible defense shields for vulnerable and high-profile targets. Besides, his mother would probably be furious if she discovered he was following in his father’s footsteps—a path that might easily lead him to an early grave too. He didn’t like deceiving her about it one bit, but he did like seeing her cared for properly. It was a trade-off and one worth making.

“I’m really glad to hear things are improving,” said Connor, despite his deeper concerns for her. “Listen, I’m calling to let you know that I’ll be away on a sailing trip next month, so I might be out of contact for a bit.”

During the school year, Connor religiously called home every week to check on his mother and gran, and he knew they both eagerly awaited his calls.

“A sailing trip! You certainly lead an exciting life at this new school of yours,” remarked his mother. Connor heard her relay the news to his gran and Sally before returning to the phone. “One thing, son, please take extra care. I don’t want you injuring yourself like last time.”

“I will,” said Connor, hoping the same himself. His mother had been led to believe that he’d hurt his leg falling off a mountain bike, the pretense necessary to keep his involvement in Guardian confidential.

“Hold on, love, Sally’s calling me, but your gran wants a word. We’ll talk again when you get back.”

There was a clatter as the phone changed hands. “How’s my big man?”

“Fine, Gran. And you?”

“As fit as a fiddle and as right as rain,” she replied brightly.

Connor laughed; that was what she always said.

His gran lowered her voice. “I know she won’t have told you, but your mum may have to start using a wheelchair soon.”

“What?” said Connor, stunned. “She said she was getting better.”

“In some respects she is, and she doesn’t want to worry you. Sally just recommended that your mum use one when she goes out. She’s not as steady on her feet as she was.”

“But Mum was fine when I saw you both last month.”

His gran sighed. “She had a relapse last weekend.”

Connor fell silent. This cruel disease was slowly stripping his mother of her quality of life. Every time he called or visited, it seemed like another little piece of her had been taken away. And there was nothing he, or anyone else, could do about it. He balled his hand into a fist and screwed his eyes shut, holding back the tears that threatened to come.

“As you would expect, she’s not particularly happy about the idea,” continued his gran, “but Sally says your ‘scholarship program’ will cover the cost of the chair.”

Connor managed a sad smile. He might not be able to stop his mother’s deterioration, but at least he could provide the necessary care for her—as well as for his gran. His work as a guardian meant they would be in safe hands, even if he was putting himself in harm’s way and spending a lot less time with them both. He now understood his father’s dilemma when he’d been alive.

“Are you all right, my dear?” asked his gran gently.

“Yeah,” he replied, wiping a sleeve across his reddened eyes.

“I hear you’re going on a sailing trip,” she asked, changing the subject. “Anywhere nice?”

Connor realized her question was loaded. “The Seychelles.”

“Ooh, lovely,” she cooed. “Anything else you can tell me about your ‘trip’?”

“Not really . . .” replied Connor, aware that he was breaking security protocol just by telling her his destination.

Charley appeared around the corner and gave him the nod.

“Sorry, Gran, I have to go,” said Connor. “Give Mum my love, and I’ll see you both soon.”

“Is that a promise?”

Connor momentarily hesitated. His gran’s question was no mere platitude but a wish for a binding agreement. “Of course, Gran.”

“Good. Then stay safe, my dear . . . stay safe.”

Connor could hear the anxious crack in his gran’s voice as she ended the call.

He hated putting her through such worry and often wondered whether he should ever have told her about Guardian in the first place. But his gran would have seen through his half-truths like a priest in a confessional. She was too sharp and had lived too long to be fooled by anyone, let alone her grandson. Besides, Connor trusted her and needed her. She was his rock and, when life got tough, the one person he could always turn to for advice.

“Everything okay at home?” asked Charley.

Connor looked up, suddenly aware he’d been staring off into space. “Yeah . . . My gran’s fine. But my mum may have to use a wheelchair. She isn’t looking forward to it.”

“I know the feeling,” said Charley, patting the armrest of her chair. “If your mother ever needs someone to talk to, I’d be happy to give her a call.”

Connor smiled warmly at Charley’s kindness. “Thanks, I’ll let her know.”

“Come on,” said Charley, pivoting on the spot. “The car’s waiting to take you to the airport.”

Connor followed Charley out to the black Range Rover parked on the long sweeping drive of Guardian headquarters. The rest of Alpha team had assembled on the steps to see him and Ling off. Jody was in the driver’s seat, checking the GPS navigation for traffic, and Ling sat in the back, seat belt on, ready to go.

“Hurry up, partner!” she shouted, slapping the seat next to her. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

As Connor flung his bags into the back, Amir shouted, “Careful! That’s my go-bag you’re throwing around.”

“It’s mine now,” replied Connor with a grin. “But I promise to look after it.”

“You’d better,” warned Amir, shaking his head in despair at the mishandling of his precious equipment.

“Good luck,” called Marc, waving. Beside him, Richie offered a mock salute.

“Don’t let Connor take all the glory, Ling,” said Jason as Connor clambered in beside her.

Ling blew him a kiss. “Don’t worry. He’s carrying my bags!”

With a final thumbs-up to his teammates, Connor started to close the door, but Charley reached in and touched his arm.

“Try not to catch any bullets this time,” she said.

Connor gave her a quizzical look. “Surely that’s the point of a bodyguard.”

Charley locked eyes with him. “Only if all else fails.”