PROTECTING NEAL (#1 in the Odd Billionaire series)

ONE

Neal was in knee-deep shit.

He had known it the minute a bang sounded and shook the whole building, rocking everyone on their feet. He hated public events and had no idea what had moved him to attend that one.

Okay, he knew why he had attended.

Mikhail Salvador was going to be there. The keyword 'was'. Somehow a few minutes before the blast, the burly Mexican man conveniently disappeared. If Neal was going to go all gungho, he would bet his fortune that Mikhail Salvador had everything to do with the explosion.

Neal coughed, trying to stand on his feet. His black hair had broken concrete in them, and debris from the fallen ceiling of Crystal Event Hall fell all over his black tuxedo. His vision was blurry and he blinked his blue eyes rapidly so he could adjust his eyes sight to the partially dark room.

It had been planned.

He may be a stuttering fool, but he had a working brain and knew well enough that someone was after him. Someone ruthless enough to not care about the deaths of other people as long as he was dead.

"Shit." He cussed, feeling a sharp pain at the back of his head. Around him, screams and wails prevailed almost drowning him in a cacophony of noises. Everyone was afraid and he didn't blame them. He was afraid too.

Glancing up at the ceiling above him, he eyed the hole where the huge ass chandelier that had fallen was before. It was supposed to smash him through the floor, but his dancing partner had pulled him too close at the last minute,  grinding her chest against him in a move that was definitely not part of the waltz. Neal had been too stunned to move and it would've taken forever anyway before he could tell her to back off so he had held his breath.

Until the chandelier crashed beside him.

Then his breath seized completely and he had fallen to the ground out of shock.

Lifting his heavy legs, he moved in the direction of what he thought and hoped was the door, hoping that whoever planted the bomb would assume that he was dead. No one seemed to be running in that direction however but he was fairly certain that was the entrance to the hall. Gingerly he stepped around the broken chandelier glass that was sprayed everywhere and he wondered how he would handle it if- when he got out eventually.

It wasn't that Neal considered himself to be pretty big and important to be the target of an assassination. He was big yes, a solid 6"2 and his frame was bulky but if he had any say in it, most of it was rather inherited. And his huge frame had been a problem for him in middle school- Everyone loved to torture the big dumb ox and he was one. So yeah he was big but important?

Important was relative, wasn't it? Because while Neal didn't think he was important, the media certainly made him seem like he was essential oxygen and they couldn't stay out of his damn business! Ever since his public blunder four months ago, he had never had a more hectic daily schedule in his entire life. Everyone in California wanted to know when Neal Kowalski, CEO of Kowalski Inc, the one who raised the company from the rubble and helped it hit the hundred billion mark,  would stutter at an interview again.

Preposterous.

Sore and starting to feel tired, Neal pressed onward, he had to get the hell out of there. And find a way to disappear. At least until the police found whoever wanted to claim his life so bad.

As he reached the entrance, he heard the click of a gun and froze. Before his very eyes, outside the Crystal event Hall, there was a man in a black hoodie a few meters away, pointing a cocked gun at him.

Well shit.

Gathering his balls as a man should, he took a deep breath, ignored the pain at the back of his head and stood straighter.

"Wh...who are you?" He bellowed. His voice, when he wasn't yammering like an idiot, was deep and solid.

The hooded figure remained quiet. Figures. Neal hadn't expected he would listen, he just hadn't wanted to beg for his life like those cliche politicians in movies. He wasn't a saint, but he wasn't a devil either.

"What...what do... What do you want?!" He asked again and felt his hands grow sweaty. Oh, wonderful. He was getting nervous and soon he would be unable to speak clear words. Heck, soon he would be unable to speak at all.

He frowned at the hooded figure. If he had wanted to kill Neal, then he should've done that already. Instead, the person simply held a gun up and waited. Neal would bet that he was simply delaying for the one who was supposed to kill him. The true assassin. And it was a good thing Neal excelled at waiting games.

Slowly unbuttoning his suit jacket, he tossed it at the hooded figure suddenly and dashed back inside the hall, racing away from the rain of bullets that followed.
****
"Surround the perimeter!" Dorothy's commander echoed through the earpods placed in her right ear and swiftly she slid out of the police van along with her colleagues.

This had to be the best night of her life!

For someone who got stuck with pansy jobs like writing tickets and parking duty, she was immensely grateful to be on a heart-pulsing mission. She adjusted her helmet and clutched her gun like it meant her life.

Because in a way, it did.

"Move fatty!" An officer hissed behind her, shoving her out of the way.

"Move small di-"

"Not now Lane!" Her commander hissed and she winced.

"Sorry, sir." She muttered in response. He was right. She had no time to contend with shitty people who thought they had the right to judge her. There were civilians inside the bombed building who needed help. She'd deal with Charles Dutch later.

"Who has a visual of what's going on inside?"