Page 20 of Protected from Torment

Our team leader doesn’t let much bother him. But predators who use money to escape the consequences of their actions are a sore spot for Rafe, and for good reason. Both his cousin and his wife were ‌victims of wealthy predators. And while Eden fortunately survived her traumatic experience, his cousin, Mandy, didn’t.

“There’s no way we can let that piece of shit get away with it,” Ace—another of my Blade and Arrow teammates—says. He scowls. “I have no problem paying him a visit, myself. Show him what happens to men who prey on innocent women.”

I don’t disagree with him. The man in question was blackmailing our client with deepfake porn, threatening to expose her to her friends, family, and job if she didn’t pay him to keep the explicit photos and videos a secret. He did it anonymously, using disappearing messages to communicate with her, so she had nothing to show the police when she went to them for help. By the time she was referred to us, she’d spent over fifty grand in hush money and she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“I don’t know what else to do,” she told us tearfully during our first meeting. “I’ve taken out loans, sold my car, but I’m almost out of money. And if these videos get out, I’ll lose my job. My employer won’t care that they’re fake. All they’ll care about is how it’ll reflect on the company. And my family… My dad isn’t well. His heart… this could tip him over the edge.

“My friend told me you could help,” she added. “That Blade and Arrow Security is the best at what they do. That… you might agree to take on my case, even if I don’t have the money to pay you.”

Her friend was right. We could help. And after ten-plus years in business, Blade and Arrow Security has the reputation of being one of the best private security companies in the country. We’re up to three branches now—one in New York, one in Texas, and ours, which is based just outside Portland, Oregon.

All three branches take on pro-bono cases, like the deepfake one in question, with expenses covered by paid security jobs for high-value clients. But the difference between our branch, called the Shadow Team, and the others, is that we only take cases on referral.

Oh, and sometimes our methods of solving cases are a little more… creative than the other branches’. Not that we break the law indiscriminately, but our team was formed to step in when more traditional methods of protection and investigation aren’t enough. It’s like our company founder, Cole Mitchell, said when he announced the formation of the Shadow team.

“Sometimes we need to use more… unconventional methods to get the job done,” he explained. “Methods some people might be uncomfortable with. But everyone in this room knows firsthand that traditional methods don’t always ensure justice is served. They don’t always protect the people who truly need it.”

And that’s how we came together—me, Rafe, Indy, Webb, and Ace. We work in the shadows when necessary, and if we have to step into the gray area of morality to keep innocent people safe, we will.

So, yes, we’ll take matters into our own hands if the police won’t help our client. But, given the evidence, I’m confident they will.

“I really think the evidence will be enough,” I tell Ace. Then I smirk at him. “Unless you’re itching to get your hands dirty.”

“Nah,” he replies with a chuckle. “I promised Yara we’d head to the beach soon. With this case wrapped up, we can go this weekend.” He stops to cast a questioning look at Rafe. “Unless something new came up?”

Rafe shakes his head. “Nope. We don’t have any new pro-bono cases scheduled. There’s one paid job for a guy Cole knows, out in San Francisco, but that’s not until next month. So this would be a good time to get some traveling in.”

“Maybe I’ll take Noelle on a trip,” Webb muses. “She’s wrapping up a performance next week, and the next one doesn’t start until October. I bet she’d like to head out to New York City. Visit her best friend. Catch some Broadway shows.”

Noelle used to work professionally as a stage manager, but after some fucked-up stuff happened with her boss, she shifted gears, and now she’s running a small theater in Williston, a small town about ten miles from here. Webb’s incredibly proud of her, as he should be. We all are. Because that’s one of the great things about being part of this team. We aren’t just coworkers; we’re like family.

“That’s a great idea,” Indy says. “I’ll ask Bea if she’s up for a trip. She might like to visit her college friends. Or…” His eyes light up. “Maybe we could take a quick trip to the Caribbean. Beaches, bathing suits, one of those villas on the water…”

As the conversation shifts to ideas for trips with their partners, a pang of melancholy hits me.

I don’t begrudge my friends their happiness. Far from it. Having experienced the joy being in love can bring, I’m thrilled that my friends found it, too. And shit, they deserve it.

But.

Now I’m the only single one of the team. And sometimes it gets lonely. When we’re all hanging out as a group, bowling in the basement, watching a movie, or playing extreme cornhole out on the deck, no matter how much my friends try to include me, I’m always the odd one out. It’s nothing intentional—it’s just because they’re all with someone, and then there’s me. Alone.

Up until a year or so ago, I didn’t let myself think about it. I was still adamant that I didn’t want to be with anyone after Kaia. I vowed to love her forever, I’d tell myself. How could I possibly consider giving my heart to another woman?

But time really does heal all wounds, given enough of it.

Does that mean I’m ready to jump into a relationship if there was a woman who caught my eye? I’m not sure.

Would I consider it? Maybe.

But in a stroke of irony, the only woman who’s drawn my interest lives on the opposite side of the country from me.

Melissa.

In the month since we met, I’ve had a hard time not thinking about her. I’ll be in the middle of my daily workout and something she said comes back to me, like how she loves watching The Office and it never fails to make her smile. Or I’ll be watching TV and a commercial with a dog comes on, reminding me of the glow on Melissa’s face as she talked about Oscar. Lying in bed late at night, I’ll wonder how she’s doing. If she’s sleeping okay. If she still has nightmares about the day she found out about her husband, like I still do about Kaia.

I’ll think about calling her, just to say hi. But something always stops me. I tell myself she doesn’t want to be reminded of the Army after losing Vince. I tell myself I’m not ready. I reason that there’s no point, since she lives so far away from me.

Lame excuses, I know. Especially when, deep down, I know the truth.