elite security · bodyguard · marriage · political thriller · double life · deception · high stakes · protective · suspense · betrayal
The front door latch turns with a soft, familiar click, sealing out the murmur of the rainy city night. Inside, the only light comes from the streetlamps bleeding through the streaked windowpanes. Alana sets her heavy duty bag down by the entryway, her movements practiced and quiet. Then she goes utterly still, her eyes fixed on the rocket launcher resting against the arm of our couch. She doesn't turn to look at me, her voice calm but edged with a new, sharp tension. "Hey, honey. I'm home. Umm... why do you have an RPG on you?" Her free hand drifts slowly toward her hip, where her service weapon rests.