Protective Secrets (The Protective Series, Book 3)

Chapter Five

[Asko's P.O.V]

"Any luck reaching him?" Dominik asked, fidgeting with his fingers between parted knees.

I sighed, lowering the phone from my ear. All four of us sat behind a horizontally lain speaker - the only large obstacle close enough for us to shelter behind when the shot had rung out. The crouching man in the corner hadn't fired it, and none of us had, so until we found out whoever else was in the house, we remained in the exact same spot attempting to piece together a feasible course of action.

"No," I frowned, staring at the lock screen that I'd had for the past four years. It was a selfie Jed had snapped on his phone after our first performance together. I was smiling from the bottom right-hand corner of the screen, while he was poking his tongue out of his mouth with one arm locked around my neck. The complete random, energetic nature that Jed possessed back then was why it remained one of the best moments of my life to this day. "I heard him breathing, but that's about the only thing I accomplished from the call."

"At least he called this time," Jarmo chimed in optimistically, attempting his best to lighten the situation with a tight-lipped smile. "That's something, at least. Now all you need to do is get him to talk."

"It's much easier said than done," I exhaled a deep sigh, sliding my mobile back into the pocket of my short-sleeved hoody. "Jed's broken, and I know from first-hand experience how hard it will be for him to reconnect with everyone who holds significance in his life. I can't force him to talk to me, and I won't, until he feels that he's fully ready."

A sudden, loud smash from the kitchen counters caused all of us to almost jump out of our skin. Jarmo was the first to spring to action like a whip had cracked behind him, scanning the dark space for any sign of movement. I pulled myself to my feet beside him, while Dominik and Mark scanned the other side of the room, covering our backs.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of movement near the doorway at the rear of the room. Dominik cast me a brief glance, confirming that he'd witnessed it too. We inclined our heads at the same time, slowly moving as silently as we could across to the wooden door now desecrated with splinters from the flying bullet. There was no sign of the shooter, dimming whatever hope we had of catching them out.

"Duck!" Dominik yelled out from beside me.

Before I had time to react, he threw his arm around my shoulders and roughly dragged me down to the white tiled floor just as a second bullet was fired. It ricochetted off the mirror fixed to the wall beside us, disappearing somewhere between the living room and front door to the house.

"Get out of my home, thieves!" A throaty, elderly voice bellowed from the left-hand side of the kitchen. "I'll shoot again if you don't get going!"

Very calmly, I rose to my feet and held my hands up in the air in front of me. My intention was peaceful. I didn't want to enrage the old man any further than he already was, because I knew without a doubt in my mind that he would deliver on his threat.

"Sir, we're not the thieves who broke into your house," Jarmo explained in a measured tone, gradually padding over to the man from behind the speaker with Mark following closely. "We're Protective Services; officers of the law. We received a call from this address, and we're here to catch them."

The elderly man approached us, stepping into the pool of moonlight illuminating the kitchen floor. His heavily wrinkled face was beetroot red, contrasting the leaf green cap covering the top of his fine light grey hair. He wore a dirtied and torn up pair of overalls that covered a simple white t-shirt, and dry mud caked the sides of his black lace-up boots, sticking blades of grass to the leather.