Our Bodyguard|18+

R E C A P

"An ex-marine with the best marksmanship, well trained in combat, with martial arts skills of over twenty years. Being a hunter by blood, arrows and spears were his family's taboo. You need the best sniper after Chris Kyle, he's your guy," Marlow said with a smirk as he pointed at the slides on the projector.

He clicked a button and paused, his eyes back on the audience in the light-deprived room; only the projector could allow them to see each other clearly. Almost proudly, he told them about the candidate's service as a member of a sniper platoon and the reputation he withheld.

Evidently, Marlow knew that the kid—as he stubbornly called him—would be the perfect fit for the job, even though he was uncontrollable and repulsive. But up to now, he couldn't see a better candidate. Not even close.

After all, who'd want a guy with medals and fame to pose as a cleaner? No, the job needed someone unrecognized. Or better yet, a neopoznanny, just as the Russians call them. Someone who didn't care much about the ordinary world surrounding him. Someone closed and lonely, yet untamable.

Marlow's callused hands rested on the table as he faced the Afro-American man on the chair, just across from him, whose intelligent eyes were not frayed at all despite the intriguing details presented. What made the guy special? Marlow could read that through his eyes.

And the same was for the other five FBI officials in the room.

"He took 20-weeks training in Marine Corps University, Quantico. He joined the Marine in 2012 and served in a scout-sniper platoon. Three years later he managed to infiltrate the Foreign Intelligence of Russia as a Foreign Affairs student, just to track down the whereabouts of Andrei Klosov and his mafia group that held five U.S soldiers as hostages .If you ask me, you can't find another guy for the job. He's got guts. He knows no fear," Marlow added confidently, making his stern jaw tighter.

Fit, tall, dark, and charming, Marlow Schmitt had several lives and identities that no one could catch up with. But right now he was just an informant in a special task unit, trying to tackle another national threat.

Michael Pine, the Assistant Director of the U.S Department of Homeland Security stared at the big screen with a picture of a thirty years old man in navy combat. Clearly he could see the potential oozing even through the photograph, let alone the outstanding resume. But he needed more.

More reliable. More controllable.

His squinted eyes returned to the screen, on which the fifth candidate's picture was still paused. He studied his features for the umpteenth time. Body was fit, as anyone would expect, and his eyes were smooth and precise, like a hunting tiger observing its prey, patient and tenacious at the same time.

He seemed like a type to crush whoever tried to step on him, but not superfluous in nature. Michael Pine, the Afro-American man in his late forties, was somewhat intrigued.

"In other words, he's basically a special guy who knows he's special?" he asked Marlow. They were inside the FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C—a state of emergency call. "In 2019 he was invalided from the Corps soon after saving a number of women and children in Damascus? It's off the record. Why exactly did he quit?" His gaze abandoned the file he'd been checking and reunited with Marlow's.

Marlow laughed as he straightened up. Oh, the kid was something else. He was good with his job—very good—-but when it came to taking orders, he was a mule. He had a mind of his own, and what he believed in was what he did, no matter what.

But the Damascus incident wasn't the only offense he'd committed. He'd defied a number of commands in what he believed to be good will, which was a good will indeed, except it all went against the military rules. Sooner or later he was to be tried at the court-martial.

"General Klautz made a command to withdraw the U.S troops from Northern Syria, and at the same time there was a mission to annihilate the IS rebels holding some civilians in Al-Hasakah. The kid was there, and he disobeyed the order by sinking into the caves and killed a hundred rebels in one minute. One damn minute! All those stinky rats laid down flat," Marlow said, stressing on 'one' pointedly.

Intrigued looks filled everyone's eyes.

"One minute? That's impossible," one of the FBI officials said with a snorted laugh.

Marlow smirked again. Of course, he didn't believe it either until he witnessed it with his naked eyes. The kid could fire fifty-four bullets in less than three seconds.

"Ask his colleagues, they'll tell you all about it. He never missed his targets, and that's why they named him RED," he answered the lady. "Do you need the guy or not?" He faced Michael Pine, no more jokes on his face.

"What else did he do after leaving the Corps?" Pine asked.

Marlow clicked a button on the remote and a new slide appeared. "He worked for the Hostage Rescue Team for almost two years. The Bureau in New York didn't want to miss a talent, it appears." He smiled briefly. "But he was dismissed due to an injury. Laid low for one year and went completely off the records. I spotted him in Arkansas several weeks ago, working as a shooting range instructor—certainly not for money. The hunter simply can't stay away from his rifle, can he?"

Contemplative silence prevailed as the officials exchanged nods.

After a long sigh, the Afro-American replied, "He'll have to pass the test first. This is about national security so I'm not relying on reputation alone. We'll send an intel to Portland. He better not disappoint or I'll have your neck, Marlow. I definitely will."

"Of course. I'll make the contact right away, even though he won't be an easy member to recruit," Marlow said, casting his full vote on the kid despite the odds.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

To you my darlings,

Thank you so much for sticking around with this story. No word can express how privileged I feel that you haven't gotten tired of it yet, despite the long and many chapters we've pulled.

I dedicate this book to those amazing readers who've been with me from the very first chapter of book one to the last. I'm nothing without you all.