The Mogul And The Muscle

I’d never advertised my services. I didn’t have a sign on my door that said Jude Ellis: Personal Security and Professional Problem Solver. It had started with Mrs. Dominguez. Nice lady, but her son had gotten in with some bad people. I’d handled the extraction and gone about my business.

Next thing I knew, someone else had gotten my name. A referral, apparently. The woman’s ex-boyfriend had been on trial—an ex-boyfriend who’d also been involved with one of Miami’s most notorious drug cartels—and she’d been a key witness. She hadn’t trusted law enforcement to keep her safe, so she’d come to me.

And apparently I was a sucker, because I couldn’t say no.

But this was the last job. Mira Salinas was safe from that little prick. And I was going to go back to being properly retired.

I stopped at the café near campus where I’d arranged to meet Mira. She was at a table near the front, wearing a floral dress, her dark hair in a loose ponytail. Her eyes widened with hope when I walked in.

“Oh my god, I’ve been so nervous.” She was jittery, tapping her sandaled foot on the floor. “Is it over?”

I sat on the edge of the seat across from her. I wasn’t going to stay. “It’s over. He won’t bother you again.”

She let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing. “I’m so relieved. Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“It’s no problem.” I stood.

“Wait.” She set her purse on the table and drew out an envelope. “I know we didn’t talk about price, but I have this.”

There was no way I was taking money from a college student. “That’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is. I hired you to help me and you did. Take it.”

I held up a hand. “I appreciate that, but keep it. And maybe don’t date any more politician’s sons.”

“Don’t worry. Never again.”

“Take care, Mira.” I slipped on my sunglasses.

“Thank you, Mr. Ellis,” she said as I walked out the door.

I GOT to the restaurant where I was meeting my date and parked on the street. Dating apps were hazardous at best, but I’d found one for the over-thirty crowd that seemed like it might work out better than all that swiping left and right bullshit. And at forty years old, my options for meeting women were narrowing. I didn’t want to be that guy in the club—the guy who’s too old. Last time I went out to a bar, people thought I was the bouncer.

Besides, I was convinced the type of woman I was looking for wasn’t out at the clubs on a Saturday night anyway. I’d moved to Miami five years ago to start over and live an ordinary life. A quiet life.

I’d joined the Marines at eighteen and had been recruited to the CIA several years later. I’d seen—and done—a lot of shit. Now I just wanted to settle down. Stay in one place. Be a normal guy.

And dating a woman I didn’t have to worry might kill me someday would be a plus.

The restaurant was only about half full, and Karen wasn’t here yet. Our dating app profiles had photos, and we’d done the thing where we said what we’d be wearing so we could find each other. She’d said light blue shirt, and there wasn’t a light blue shirt to be found.

I decided to get a table. It was a cute place—she’d suggested it—with bright blue tile and photos of Miami wildlife decorating the walls. I noted the exits, the location of the kitchen—which meant potential weapons in an emergency.

Damn it. I needed to stop thinking like that. This was a date, not a meeting with an informant.

The host led me to a spot next to a window and I chose the seat facing the front so I could see people coming in. My phone buzzed, so I checked, but it was Derek asking if we were boxing tomorrow. I told him I’d meet him at the gym at four.

After a quick glance at the menu Karen still wasn’t here, so I swiped through the local news on my phone to kill time. There wasn’t much going on that I didn’t already know about. I kept scrolling until something about a foiled mugging caught my eye.

I skimmed the article. Someone had attempted to mug local billionaire Cameron Whitbury in the parking garage of her office building. She’d gotten away by stomping on the perpetrator’s foot with her high heel. That made me chuckle. Nice move.