Too Far Gone Read Free Page B

muttered. He was in California, not Mubi.
    The rattling of his cell phone against his nightstand dragged his thoughts from the painful memories. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he picked it up and read the single word on the display:
Protect.
    He adjusted the pillow under his head and waited for the rest of the assignment. In the pre-dawn darkness outside his window the Pacific Ocean crashed into the sand. His standing sunrise date with a long run on the sand and then a cruise of the waves on his surfboard was cancelled. Well, hell. He sat up and rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck. A shower and a bottle of cola would have to suffice today. Moments later the picture came through along with the primary background on the new client.
    Gorgeous woman
. It was the best perk of working in this part of the country. He skimmed through her file, not at all surprised that face had landed steady work on one of those daytime soaps in addition to several commercials and small movie roles.
    Mike’s curiosity spiked as he read her claim of witnessing her agent’s murder. The killer had seen her and evidently knew her, but she’d still managed to escape. The police, in all their wisdom, had taken her statement, sat her down with a sketch artist, and then sent her on her way.
    If the hit was professional, why was she still alive? Mike supposed miracles happened, though he’d never seen one. However she had survived his job was clear. She’d asked the Guardian Agency for help and he would deliver.
    Another text came through:
Urgent!
    “Aren’t they all?” Mike muttered at the phone as he entered the contact number provided for the client.
    It rang twice before the woman answered with a wary hello.
    “Mike Stone, Guardian Agency,” he said. “Is this Lauren Marie Woods?”
    “Oh, thank God,” she said in a breathless rush. “Yes, this is Lauren and I’m in big trouble.”
    Got that loud and clear.
“Are you in a safe location?”
    “Yes. I think so.” She gave him the name of a low-rent motel near LAX.
    “Stay there until I arrive.”
    “How long will it take you to get here?” she asked, her voice more than her words giving away just how scared she was.
    Mike checked his watch, thought about routes and the light traffic at this hour. “Give me forty-five minutes.”
    “How will I know it’s you?”
    Fair question. “I’ll send you a head shot. See you soon.” He ended the call and took a selfie. It wouldn’t win artistic awards for subject or composition, but it would serve as identification.
    Mike dressed quickly, grabbed his go-bag, and headed for his car. Once he was settled behind the wheel, the deep rumble of the Camaro’s engine gave him almost as much pleasure as surfing and smoothed out the rough edges following another restless night. One day he hoped those damned nightmares would leave him be. He doubted that would happen this side of the grave.
    The streets were mostly clear and with the sun no more than a hint on the horizon, he had time to think. A dangerous pastime when a guy couldn’t get his mind off what he couldn’t change. “What’s done is done,” he muttered. He was here now. His career as a Navy SEAL was over. No going back.
    Without the steady work as a Guardian Agency protector, Mike would still be banging through odd jobs and squeaking by as a bounty hunter. His gaze drifted west toward the ocean as he headed inland. Only two things pulled him out of a crappy mood these days. Surfing or a case. Surfing kept his mind and body sharp. Being a protector did the same and bolstered his self-respect. Every man needed a little success in his life.
    Checking the time on the dash, he used the buttons on the steering wheel to cue the voice commands so the file would be read aloud. He smiled a little as the automated voice based on Claudia, his Guardian Agency technical assistant, filled the car. His smile faded as the new client’s background sunk in. College drop-out, in Hollywood for a