Rise of the lowly janitor

Creepy

*Jake POV*

I am about to start the engine when Tanya screams in horror, startled by something moving in the backseat.

I curse inside when Len emerges and looks at me with a poker face. This guy is probably the creepiest person I have ever met.

“How did you know that we were there?” his voice is strained and agitated.

I can’t believe this! This psycho broke into the car just to ask me this.

“The raw indentation on the president’s neck was probably caused by a sharp blade pressed against the skin. The blood stained tissues in the bin, most likely from wiping the blood from the small incision on the left side. The man is not suicidal and could not have done that to himself. He took the long unnatural way to his desk after letting me in as if avoiding something,” I tell him.

That is what I found amiss when I walked into that office.

“Huh!”

That is all he says before getting off and I can’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Who...who was that?”

Tanya is clearly still shaken and I don’t blame her. We are already in her flat by the time I finish relating to her the weirdest encounter and discovery of my life.

She is surprisingly taking all this way better than I expected.

“So, you are an ARF agent?”

“No, Tanya. I am not!”

I would not even dream being that. Not after hearing the things they, including my parents, did for their so called country.

“Besides, I have you and friends. That means I don’t qualify,” I add, but she still presses on.

“You are the president’s special bodyguard,” she points out and I agree.

“Correct.”

I also don’t quite know what that entails, but the pay is ridiculously good and I need a job.

“And he is an ARF agent?” she asks.

“Yes.”

I am starting to regret telling Tanya everything, because I now feel like I am sitting for an oral exam.

“Does it make sense to you that an ARF agent would need a bodyguard?”

I smile, finally realising where she is going with all this.

“The president specifically needs me because I bring him some protection against the ARF founders, who happen to be my godfathers and the real people pulling the shots in this country,” I explain to her.

“Godfathers who killed your parents, his fiancée and God knows how many more people?” she presses on.

“That’s right.”

“You have a very interesting life, Mr Anderson,”she giggles and I can’t help but smile.

I appreciate her whole sense of humour while pointing out all this weirdness I find myself in.

“You think? Did I mention that I am a billionaire?”

She laughs. “I guess I really do have a type. Filthy rich, hot and kick-ass.”

I shoot her a disapproving stare and she bursts out into laughter.

“You are the only one who meet that criteria, I swear.”

I pull her into my arms and plant a kiss on her lips. “I better.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but I mean it the moment the words leave my lips. It’s literally been three days since we hooked up, a ridiculously crazy three days, but still three days. I don’t recall feeling this possessive with Leticia, and I was ready to marry her.

“Or what?” she asks, amused and I rise up to the challenge.

“Or I will date your mother and be your step dad. The incredible Sarah Drew does love me.”

“You are terrible!” she cries.

“Oh, come on! I would make a great step dad.”

She shakes her head and closes her ears, and I can’t stop laughing.

The following day, I return to the president’s office and find him all calm, sober and in control. I guess my goofy godfathers do bring out the worst out of him.

“You have questions,” he says after dismissing his protection detail.

“A lot.”

“First things first, you will be overseeing my protection detail. These guys are well trained, the best the military has to offer, but you have an eye and skill that cannot be learned. I need you to screen everyone and oversee every detail of my protection.”

“Okay.”

“All the shooters from the race club are dead. The police and secret service have no leads, but you do. As of now, you are in charge of the investigation. Everyone has been informed to comply.”

I nod my head because I know exactly where to start with this one. The thought of it gets me more excited than it should. It is time to level up the uneven ground in that club.

Two hours later, I pull up at the racing club with the black, state of the art, bulletproof presidential vehicle. A tag around my neck and an entourage of special agents around me, this feels just right. It’s like I was born to do this.

“Good morning, Sir,” the agent we find already at the club greets before passing me a very thin file.

“Good morning. Call me Jake, please.” I don’t know how many times I have said these words in the past hour alone. I am learning that hierarchy is a very important part of the military culture and has become a second nature to all of them, but being addressed as Sir does not sit right with me.

He nods before getting me up to speed. All the dead guys are specialised mercenaries for hire. There is no money trail and the investigation has reached a dead end.

I walk into the all black building with a sense of familiarity. I know every corner of this place because I have scrubbed every part of it before.

It is quieter than usual without the deafening sound of racing engines and fans cheering. It is just us and the club employees who are allowed in. That’s because the club is still not open to the public. The red and white tapes everywhere indicate that it is still a crime scene. I also don’t imagine that the customers will be eager to return after seeing the footage of the president’s attempted assassination and I don’t blame them.

My former colleagues, who are mostly my friends are all excited to see me and still have a lot to say about me “saving” the president. There is also the question of whether I was indeed an ARF agent undercover the whole period I was an employee there. I can tell that they and even the special agents with me, don’t believe my response.

I am still talking to them and informing them of what we will be requiring from them when my ex fiancée approaches.

The loud creaking sound of her heels against the tiled floor announce her arrival. Head high, nose up and brows knighted, she does not even greet before dismissing me.

“You should not be here. This is a crime scene and only the club employees and special agents are allowed in.”

I can’t help but smile at how much she has changed.

My friends all exchange knowing looks. I am still in contact with all of them. They have told me about how mean she has become. They even call her Mrs Spencer-to-be because that’s her social media handle. Being George’s girlfriend has really gotten into her head.

“I am so sorry, Mrs Spencer-to-be. I will get out of here right away.”

“Do that,” she says daringly. “Oh, you might want to get yourself a lawyer because George is now in charge of the Spencer’s and you did assault him,” she adds.

The special agents all look at me with confused expressions while my friends burst out in laughter.

Mr Reed, the manager, arrives during all the excitement and shakes my hand.

“Mr Anderson, welcome. I am truly grateful to you for your heroic actions that day, otherwise the President would have fallen in my property. No business ever recovers from that. I have been informed by the president’s office that you will be in-charge of the investigation. Be rest assured that all our employees will cooperate with you.”

Leticia’s expression is priceless. Her eyeballs almost pop out of her skull when she hears that I am in charge.

“Thank you, Mr Reed. I was starting to worry because your receptionist was about to throw me out.”

“Wha...what? No! Please accept my apologies,” the man starts stuttering, it’s amusing. He knows that the chances of his club ever opening again now depends on me.

Luckily for him, I have no intentions of making his life difficult. Although ordered by Tom, he did give me a job when I was desperate and even though he fired me to please George, I have no vendetta against him.