Oath of Valor (Personal Protectors Book 3) Read online

  Oath of Valor

  The Personal Protector Series Book 3

  Brittany Cournoyer

  Copyright © 2019 by Brittany Cournoyer

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or events are purely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, establishments, businesses or locales is purely coincidental.

  The amazing book cover was done by:

  Designs by Morningstar

  https://www.facebook.com/DesignsbyMorningstar/

  This is a gay romance that contains adult language, adult situations, and sexually explicit material between two men. It is intended for ADULTS ONLY.

  Prologue

  “They say patience is a virtue. Well, I’m not very virtuous. In fact, I’m wicked.”

  Larry

  This certainly wasn’t the most uncomfortable position I’d ever been in, and trust me, I’d been in some doozies. But I needed to take a piss, and being tied up in a chair while hearing the leaky pipes drip behind me didn’t help with that. Not one bit. My arms were falling asleep from being positioned behind my back for so long, and the stupid rope they’d used wasn’t exactly what I’d call comfortable.

  “Where is it?” one of the men barked at me.

  Really, he sounded like he was barking. I wanted to laugh at his canine features—the big jowls, droopy ears, and huge bags under his eyes. But that would’ve just made shit worse. So I opted to do what I did best, sit there and act like I was bored shitless.

  “Where’s what?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

  Canine, whose real name was actually Bert, backhanded me across the face. I clenched my hands into fists, not allowing my face to show my anger as I slowly turned my head back around to stare at him.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “And I answered you,” I replied calmly.

  Remaining calm in such a situation was difficult. But years of being in the FBI had taught me how to stay cool under pressure. While most people would yell, fight, and do everything in their power to get free, I sat there. My face was a mask of stoicism I didn’t particularly feel, and my body was relaxed as if I didn’t have a single care and all the time in the world to be there.

  Truth be told, I’d been tied to a chair in that dank basement for the better part of twenty-four hours, and I was ready to get the hell out of there. I’d been undercover with the prostitution slash human-trafficking ring for almost four months, and somehow, my cover had been blown.

  A new shipment of girls had been due to arrive via semi the night before, and after sneaking an alert to the Bureau, the shipment had been stopped. After the arrest of the driver, the girls were taken to the station to be reunited with their families, but I had to remain in character.

  The arrest of Bert, the leader of the ring, would mean I could finally step out of my role of Samuel McEntire, eager gopher who was willing to do Bert’s bidding, and go back to being Larry Armstrong, chameleon of the FBI and eager man wanting to bring that son of a bitch down. Aside from alerting the agency to the semi full of young women, I also managed to hide a safe with hundreds of thousands of dollars in it. And as soon as I was out of the fucking basement, I planned on turning it in.

  “Your turn.” Bert glowered to his right-hand man. Bummer the guy’s name wasn’t Ernie instead of Justin.

  Justin cracked his knuckles as he stalked closer to me. Justin was a wall of muscle, and I knew he could pack a punch. I’d been on the receiving end of that punch since he wrestled me in the car and tied me to the damn chair.

  “Where is it?” Justin asked, his voice more menacing than Bert’s.

  “Where is what?” I asked again, letting just a tiny bit of irritation slip in.

  “We know it was you who alerted the police, Larry.”

  I raised an eyebrow, pretending to be unaffected by Justin’s words. How in the hell did he know my name?

  “Who’s Larry?”

  Justin’s response was to deliver his brutal right hook. I spit the blood from my mouth and winced at the soreness in my jaw. That was going to leave a mark, and after further inspection with my tongue, I realized my back molar was loose. Fuck. Another trip to the dentist was in order when all of this was over.

  Justin squatted down until his beady eyes were level with mine. Even in the dark, moldy basement I was currently being held in, I could make out the glint of evil in his gaze. No wonder Bert kept Justin on his payroll. The man was the epitome of creepy.

  “You shouldn’t have underestimated us, Larry. We’ve been on to you for weeks now. Should’ve covered your tracks just a little bit better and been more cautious about leaving fingerprints behind.”

  Goddamnit. What didn’t I wipe off? I’d always been careful to clean up after myself and leave no DNA behind. How could I have been so careless? Unless… I narrowed my eyes and locked on to Justin’s gaze. I felt my skin crawl at the fact that I was making eye contact with a man so sinister he gave the devil himself a run for his money. But the little twitch in his eye let me know.

  “You’re full of shit,” I challenged him.

  I slowly, and carefully, started working my hands a bit behind my back, using techniques I’d learned over the years to loosen my bindings. And when I felt the rope slacken, I held on to it, so it didn’t fall to the floor.

  Justin retaliated with a punch to my abdomen. I bent over a little, remembering that I was supposed to be tied up, and coughed as I tried to catch my breath. I was getting too old for this shit. Years of working for the FBI has taken its toll, not only with my body, but with my family. And the beating I was currently enduring was a stark reminder of just how sick of this I was becoming.

  “Where is the money, Larry?” Justin bit out.

  I rolled my eyes, still staying in character. “What fucking money? I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Bert walked over and yanked my hair back. I hoped he was too caught up in playing a villain that he didn’t notice the rope. But when the blade of a knife was pressed against my carotid, the rope was the least of my worries.

  “Stop. Fucking. Lying. I know it was you who alerted the police. I know it was you who took the safe with the money in it. And if you want to have an open casket at your funeral, I suggest you start talking. Now.”

  That was it. I was done playing their stupid game. Gopher Samuel was gone, and it was time to bring back Agent Larry. With a sigh of annoyance, I dropped the rope at the same time I brought my leg up—fucking morons didn’t tie my feet—and delivered a sharp kick straight to Justin’s balls.

  The maneuver surprised Bert who loosened his grip on my hair, and in doing so, I brought my arm up and gave Bert an upper-cut to his chin. I might’ve been older, and my body might’ve taken numerous beatings over the years, but I could still handle myself in hand-to-hand combat. A lesson both men were soon taught.

  After knocking them out, and tying them together with the rope, I dug out my phone and called the Bureau. Of course, before I was free to do anything else, I had to be questioned. It was standard protocol and something I was used to, considering I was their best agent. I could slip as easily out of roles as I could slip into them, and I had no problem with staying on assignments longer than usual. Well, at least, I used to not care.

  “Okay, Armstrong. Go get some food and rest, and we’ll discuss your next assignment in a few days.”

&nbsp
; “I don’t want to wait,” I protested. Because what else did I have going for me aside from work?

  My son and I had a strained relationship, and by strained, I meant he barely knew me and vice versa. Work sucked up most of my life, and he was an adult doing his own thing. Work was all I had.

  “Armstrong, we’ve been through this.”

  “And we’ll keep going through it until you finally understand I don’t need to wait.”

  “Fine,” my superior relented and handed me the folder with my next assignment.

  I took it from him without looking it over—I’d do that in the comforts of a hotel room. My main priorities were to take a shower and grab some food. I was filthy, hungry, and horny, and a bar down the street looked promising.

  I went to my hotel room and sat down on the bed with a loud sigh. It’d been a long few months, and what’s worse was that I was in such close proximity to my son, but I couldn’t go home. Not when I was on assignment and needed to keep my family as far away from danger as possible. I hoped that eventually I’d be able to rectify the relationship Brice and I had. But for the time being, it didn’t seem like a possibility.

  After a quick shower, I headed over to the bar down the road from my hotel. I didn’t like to drink while on duty, but since my new assignment hadn’t officially started yet, and considering I’d been tied up in a basement for a full day, sported a few bruises, and had a loose tooth, I figured I deserved a few beers.

  A few beers in, and I was feeling a bit more relaxed and loose-lipped, so I started chatting up the younger guy beside me. Of course, as a bisexual male, I noticed how fuckable the man was, and soon one beer turned into two. Then three. And then I found myself waking up in a strange bed. Once the room stopped spinning, I looked at my companion and nearly groaned at how young he was. He was old enough to be my damn kid. One-night stands were one thing, but fucking someone twenty years my junior was something completely different.

  Jumping out of bed, not caring if I woke the guy or not, I instantly dressed and left as fast as I could. Thankfully, he didn’t live too far from where I’d been staying, and the walk of shame back to my hotel was brisk. I shook my head at my carelessness, and after letting myself back into my room, I grabbed the folder for my new assignment to look it over and take my mind off the mistake I’d made last night. That should’ve never happened.

  Flipping the folder open, I quickly scanned the confidential documents. It was time to get lost in my new role, and let the chameleon come out to play again.

  Chapter 1

  Seven months later…

  “Thank you for calling Mount Pillar Hospital. This is Elliot, how may I direct your call?”

  “Yeah, I need to speak to the doctor.”

  “What is this regarding?”

  “I need to see if I should go to the emergency room.”

  “Okay? What’s going on so I can let the doctor know?”

  “I see a piece of bone sticking out of my foot from where I just broke it. So, I need to see if the doctor wants me to go to the emergency room or not.”

  “Please hold.”

  Elliot

  “How did your training go?” Brice asked from where he lounged beside me on the couch.

  I shrugged. “It went okay. The lady who’s training me is kind of a know-it-all, and she acts like she’s my boss instead of another worker. But, fortunately, once I’m on my own, I’ll only have to see her for about fifteen minutes or so.”

  “That’s probably a relief. Think you’ll like working there?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a job. And at this point, I’ll take anything so I can get back on my feet.”

  That was the truth. It’d been over six months since the warehouse incident with that fuck-nut, Tobias, and his goons. Six months since I’d been stabbed a couple of times and almost died. All because some weirdo had it out for Brice’s boyfriend, and I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  A coma, a collapsed lung, numerous cardiac arrests, and an extensive surgery to my triceps on my left arm resulted in me being off work for an extended period of time. Due to my leave running out, I had lost my job as well as my lease on my apartment. I didn’t mind so much about the job, though. I detailed cars, and those kinds of jobs were a dime-a-dozen. What I did mind, though, was the fact I’d lost my apartment.

  After my parents had died when I was eighteen, I was on my own. As a struck of rotten luck, both of my parents had been only children, as was I. So, when they died, I had no aunts, uncles, cousins, or anything of the sort. It was just me. To keep a roof over my head and food in my belly I’d worked a lot of odd jobs, which meant college was out of the question. Fortunately, I landed a great paying job detailing cars for the pompous assholes of D.C. and was able to quit my second one bagging groceries at a supermarket.

  When my parents had passed away, at the courtesy of a drunk driver, I’d discovered they were in debt up to their eyeballs and on the verge of filing bankruptcy. My mom’s parents had plenty of money, but considering I’d never met them, I didn’t bother to ask them for help. Hell, they didn’t even attend the funeral. Instead, I put every dime they’d left to me toward the funeral costs and paying off as many of their debts as I could. That also meant selling the only home I’d ever known. I struggled for a few years, so it was nice to have some money in savings and to actually stand confidently on my own two feet.

  My life was finally headed in a positive direction. I had a decent job. An apartment I wasn’t embarrassed to bring people to or too scared to actually sleep in. My previous place had been disgusting, but the only one I could afford at the time. Roaches and mice had claimed that building as theirs, and it didn’t matter how many gallons of pest killer I put on them—the relentless bastards stayed. I got out of there as fast as I could, and even paid extra money to break the lease.

  It was also nice to drive a car that actually worked and didn’t break down every few days. More often than not, I’d found myself walking to work or taking a bus, depending on the weather, due to something else going wrong with my vehicle. When I finally had enough money saved up, I traded that piece of shit in and got something a bit more reliable. And I was getting more ass than I could ever dream of. Things were finally looking up for me. But all that changed with a couple stab wounds to my chest and abdomen.

  Staying with Larry was already awkward, since he was my best friend’s father. But mix in the fact that he and I’d had a drunken one-night stand, and the awkwardness was off the charts. Larry and I’d had no idea about Brice being a common denominator between us. We’d both been drunk and only had enough conversation to ensure neither of us were a serial killer. Then the rest of the night was spent having some of the most amazing sex of my life—well, what I could remember was amazing, anyway. And Brice having to find out about it, while we were both in the hospital, made the entire situation more fucked up than it already was. So imagine how surprised I was when I’d found out they were taking me to Larry’s home to recover.

  “Where’s Tattooed and Growly?” I asked, pulling my mind away from my inner musings.

  Brice chuckled at the name I called Carter. “He’s at work.”

  I nodded. After everything went down with that fucking weirdo, Tobias, and Brice and I survived our shitty, real-life horror movie, things finally settled down for Carter and Brice. Much to my surprise, considering how pissed off Brice had been over the fact that I slept with his dad, he and Carter got a place together shortly after I moved in. I tried not to take it personally since I knew they wanted to start living their own life and needed privacy, but it did hurt my feelings a bit. But that was short-lived considering Brice was over a lot. Larry still had undercover assignments for work, so Brice and Carter would come over to help with my recovery.

  Things between us were still a little strained, but they got better day by day. I think it helped that Larry was barely around, and there was no chance of us ever hooking up again. I had sat Brice down shortly after
I was released and made him listen to my apology. I promised him that it had been a drunken mistake, and that I’d had no clue who Larry was—and thankfully, he had believed me. We were just going to have to work through it, was all.

  Brice was happier than I’d ever seen him, and I knew a lot of that had to do with Carter. In the years I’d known Brice, he was a loner. He mentioned a few times how his mom had taken off, and how his dad was never around. The smile he wore now seemed genuine instead of forced, and his eyes no longer looked clouded. And could you blame the guy? Carter was sexy as hell with his muscles, scowls, and tattoos. If I had that to go home to every night, a smile would be the only thing I’d be wearing. Hell yes, I’d flirted with him shamelessly before he and Brice had finally got their heads out of their asses and figured out they wanted each other. And I didn’t regret it one bit. Besides, maybe my flirting helped push them together.

  After everything had died down, he’d finally confided in me that Carter was more than just a friend who went out with him on occasion. Evidently, Larry had hired Carter to be his bodyguard. He’d explained his father worked for the FBI and decided that Brice needed extra protection because Larry pissed off lots of shady people. While I was surprised by everything, in a way, I kind of wasn’t. Just from the few times I’d spent with Larry, he exuded an authority that had demanded everyone pay attention to him, as well as a hint of something I could only describe as malicious. And to make things worse, I knew how the man looked naked and how he liked to fuck and be fucked. Awkward, much?

  Once Brice and Carter had moved to their own place, Brice had returned back to work as a graphic designer, but confessed to me he was thinking about switching companies. Going there every day was a constant reminder of what’d happened and was becoming almost too difficult for him to handle. I completely understood that, which was why I hadn’t been back to his office since. Carter, who still guarded Brice as much as Brice would allow, decided to try his hand at a different kind of job since he no longer had to look over his shoulder every day. Evidently, Tobias had been stalking him for over a decade. So at the suggestion of Beckett’s Uncle Rusty, Carter somehow found himself with a job helping law enforcement trainees learn to use their weapons without pulling a Barney Fife and accidently shooting themselves in the leg. On top of that, he was also teaching them self-defense maneuvers and hand-to-hand combat. I’d learned all of that information when Brice came over during my recovery, or when he’d taken me to therapy. But, honestly, once he started spouting off exactly how Carter landed the job, I sort of tuned him out. So yeah, we still talked and were good friends, but the closeness we’d once had wasn’t completely there anymore.