“Me too.” Loup hesitated. “Do you still hate it here?”

Pilar thought for a moment. “No, I guess not,” she said. “I’ve done things I never thought I could. It’s a good feeling. And I guess… I’m kinda curious to see what else I can do. It might turn out we need some of this stuff, you know?”

“Yep.”

She freed one hand, tracing a line up Loup’s spine. “So, awe, huh?”

Loup nodded, serious.

Pilar smiled. “Maybe you could show me just one more time.”

She did.

FOURTEEN

Their education began in earnest the following day.

“All righty,” Clive said. “Say you’ve been hired to escort a famous actress on a press junket for her new movie. It’s, erm… let’s say it’s about an ass-kicking heroine, so her people wanted to hire the biggest badass girlie they could find as a nice PR stunt.” He pointed at Loup. “What do you need to know?”

“Um… how to be a badass?”

He snorted. “Beyond that part, Taz.”

She shrugged. “Where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to do, I guess.”

“It’s a start,” Clive allowed. “Everything starts with the itinerary. Say you’re picking her up at the airport. Over the course of two days, you’re escorting her to the hotel, to a press conference, a couple of one-on-one interviews, a photo op, and a movie premiere. What do you need to know?”

“Where everything is?”

Another snort. “At a bare minimum.” He walked them through the initial preparations involved in a job of that nature—ascertaining locations, routes, and travel times and alternate routes in case of trouble. “Not that you’ll be driving,” he added. “That’s become a specialized job unto itself. But say you’re being chased by a horde of paparazzi. You might need to use the driver’s car as a decoy and nip into a cab. You’ve got to know the best route to get Missy Movie Star to her next engagement.”

“How?” Pilar asked.

“Homework and preparation, sunshine,” Clive said. “You’ll have access to Global’s databases and navigational services, but we expect you to do the research ahead of time and commit it to memory, too. You’ve got to be able to think on the fly.”

He went on at length about the various issues involved. Communicating with hotel and on-site security. Working with a celebrity’s handlers. Venue surveillance. Memorizing discreet side entrances and exits. Detecting paparazzi stakeouts.

“Celebs are all different,” he said. “Some avoid the press like the plague; some are pure media whores. Find out up front and deal accordingly.”

“What about the shopping?” Pilar asked.

“Huh?” Clive rubbed his bald pate.

“Personal assistant stuff.”

“Oh, right.” He smiled wryly. “I’m gonna turn you over to Addie for that, sunshine. She spent years working for Mr. Lindberg in that capacity before he appointed her to manage the facility here.”

“Is Addie a bodyguard, too?” Loup asked. Clive shook his head. “Okay, if Sabine’s such a hotshot bodyguard, how come she’s working as Magnus’ assistant now?”

“Mr. Lindberg travels in, ah, unstable parts of the world on occasion,” he said. “Comes with the territory—more and more as the world begins to recover from the effects of the pandemic. And it was Sabine’s choice, not that it’s any of your business. The lady can pick and choose her contracts. She chose to work with Magnus.”

“Ooh!” Pilar said with delight. “She’s totally got a crush on him. No wonder she’s so jealous of you, baby.”

“I don’t think so,” Loup said. “I’m not the one he found charming.”

“Unintentionally charming,” Pilar reminded her. “I’m not exactly sure that’s a compliment.”

Clive cleared his throat. “A little focus, girlies!”

He bombarded them with a further onslaught of information, jumping from evasive tactics to polite but firm methods of dealing with an aggressive press, to cultural dos and don’ts, like never showing the bottoms of your shoes in Japan. He informed them that they’d be learning basic CPR. He regaled them with the importance of always carrying a couple hundred euros’ worth of cash in order to be able to pay out the myriad tips and bribes that kept the machinery greased. When he saw their eyes begin to glaze, he stopped.

“Enough, eh?” He grinned. “I’m rambling, I know bloody well I’m rambling. Don’t worry, you’ll learn it bit by bit. But right now you’re all full of yourselves after completing basic, and I like to impress on new recruits that there’s a hell of a lot more to this job than laying someone out on a mat. Got it?”

“Very much got it, sir,” Loup agreed.

“Good girl.” Clive fetched a pair of bound manuals with the Global Security logo on the cover. “These here are your bibles,” he said reverently. “Learn ’em. Study ’em. Everything I’m telling you and more is in these.”

“You bet your ass, sunshine.” He relented a bit. “Don’t worry, you’ll have real-time experience, too.”

Loup brightened. “Like what?”

“Oh, opportunities to shadow some of our operatives on the job. Get your feet wet, as it were.” Clive smiled smugly. “And if you’re good girls and do your homework and keep up your training, I might just have a treat in store for you sooner than you think.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

They spent the next two weeks immersed in learning the minutiae of good bodyguarding skills, while keeping up on their self-defense training and marksmanship, and for Pilar, additional sessions with Adelaide on the art of anticipating a client’s every need and providing immaculate personal assistance. It was mentally exhausting in a way that basic hadn’t been.

“Damn, you’re a good shot, Pilar,” Loup commented after a day on the range, lying crosswise on the bed, disinclined to study.

“Yeah, go figure.” Pilar pored over the manual. “Okay, here’s one. What’s the best floor in a high-rise hotel?”

“Penthouse?”

“Nope.” She swatted her lightly on the shoulder. “Fifth, sixth, or seventh. High enough to avoid the risk of thrown objects from street level, but lower risk in the event of a fire. You’ve gotta know this stuff, Loup.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You do!” Pilar swatted her again. “I know, I know. Magnus wants you so bad, they’re gonna pass you no matter what. But it’s about keeping you safe, too, baby.”

“Okay.” Loup hauled herself upright. “Give me another.”

“Hmm.” She studied the manual. “When approaching a doorway, do you proceed in advance or defer to the client and hold the door?”

“Defer?”

Pilar shook her head. “Proceed in order to assess threats.”

“Well, that’s not exactly keeping me safe, is it?”

“No.” Pilar frowned. “But I think it’s kind of a balance, you know? It’s not like this is the safest job in the world. But if you learn to follow the rules, it keeps everyone safer. Okay?”

Loup reached for her manual. “Okay, okay! I’ll study harder.”

At the end of two weeks, Clive was sufficiently impressed that he allowed them their treat. “Kate’s coming to town,” he said, smug. “To Aberdeen. And I know the bloke in charge of their security. We’ve worked together, he and I. He’s willing to do me a favor or two.”

“Kate?” Loup asked, bewildered.

Pilar let out a squeal. “The band?”

“Too right.” Clive nodded. “And a right bunch of prats they are. Still, you’ll get a good look at real-time security in action.” He tossed out a pair of security badges. “Get ready for a field day tomorrow, eh?”

The following day, they drove into the city. The Aberdeen Music Hall was swarming with technicians and crew members rigging lights and sound equipment. Clive walked them through the procedures that would take place that night.

“You’ll spend a bit of time shadowing the fellows working the doors,” he said. “They’re the ones making sure nothing gets in that shouldn’t. No knapsacks, none of those oversized purses that can hide God knows what. No bottles o’ booze smuggled in baggy pants. It’s dull work, but crucial. This is a small venue for those lads, and if things go to pot, it gets ugly fast. Old building, lousy fire exits.”

“There and there?” Pilar pointed.

Clive smiled. “Good girl. Now, your biggest worry’s gonna be groupies.” He nodded at the area in front of the stage. “Six hours from now, this is going to be a seething mass of teenage flesh. Security’s onstage to make sure no one rushes it, yeah, but also to make sure no one gets trampled.”

He led them backstage and introduced them to a sturdily built man named Bill Jones, with a crooked nose and bristling gray hair. Bill eyed them dubiously.

“Sure they’re not just fans, Clive?”

“Well, I’m not sure this one isn’t.” He put his hand on Pilar’s shoulder. “But they’re my trainees, sure enough.”

“Awfully young.”

“They’ve lived through a fair bit. Plus…” He grinned. “Give the man a nice, firm handshake, Loup.”

She did.

“Bollocks!” Bill’s eyes widened. “So it’s true? A real live geemo?”

“Sure enough,” Clive agreed.

“Right, then.” He showed them where to stand backstage so that they’d be out of the way, yet have a view of the security team’s work onstage. “Keep ’em out of trouble, Clive.”