The Bodyguard

Dangerous

Walking around the bin, hands high as a flashlight lights upon his body, throwing a shadow to the ground that reminds her so much of a corpse as she watches his shadow and listens to the scene unfold.

"Who the hell are you!" The second guy snarls, and there is a loud click, something that she doesn't recognize but has a feeling in her gut that she does know what it is.

"Alex, I've been sent by HIM." Alexander's voice is different, darker, and accented with the same one as the men's. She finally recognizes that accent, Italian, where he had said he had moved from at 19. But, why would they both have that accent, and what were they doing on Mr. Delmont's dock? Was that who "HIM" was?

There was another cock of a gun, the clear click making her flinch as she tries not to move, tries not to look, and simply contend herself with watching his shadow as he doesn't move, his hands now by his sides. Why doesn't he grab his gun? She worries, feeling fear ripple through her for his life and not her own. She can't see another body, she just can't.

She's frozen as she watches the shadows, her body unwilling to move. As much as she would love to have the fight instinct, or better yet the flight one, she freezes and she can't help but watch that outline with absolute terror coursing through every inch of her body.

Then another set of words are exchanged, this time, ones that she very much doesn't understand but sound very similar to Spanish, the language she had taken in high school, and she suspects that it is Italian. She does at least recognize it as Alexander's voice.

It shouldn't surprise her that he knows Italian, of course he must know Italian, he moved here when he was 19. She told herself, confessing her own mental idiocy in that moment for not considering such a thing. But then yet again it brought the question of why they were all Italian, one in itself is not suspicious, but all?

Struggling to breathe quietly at this point, she waits for the gunshot, the noise that will haunt her for her entire life, the noise that took Rose's life, and apparently her father's though she hadn't known it until yesterday. But to her relief it doesn't come, instead a rather jovial exclamation is made and a laugh escapes one of the men.

Emilia doesn't let herself breath with relief, she has the feeling that even if Alexander is out of the clear, even partially, she is most definitely not. 

The conversation continues in more hushed voices, the flashlight no longer shining directly on him and proving him still alive, but does move along the ground suggesting immediate hand gestures and culminates in a shuffling of feet and then the fading of light as if they had simply walked off, leaving her completely alone.

For the briefest of moments, Emilia wonders if he had abandoned her, he had a right to, she had led them both into danger with her curiosity, and he had clearly not been a fan of her decision to bring them here. But she had to figure out why, she had to solve this mystery, for herself, and for her mother.

"Miss Emilia?" The voice startles her into turning back towards the edge of the metal bin, and without hesitation throws herself at the shadow that she would recognize anywhere. His slightly sandy white dress shirt presses against her face, the jacket still sitting in the car where he had left it. For the first time since they had arrived at the docks, she actually felt safe, and despite all the secrets, despite all the danger, despite all the questions, he makes her feel that way.

"May we go now?" He asks, his voice very serious, and for the first time she notices that very slight hint of Italian to his voice making it just a little more attractive for no reason other than it was an accent.

"Yes, of course." She says quickly, anxious to get out of a place that has people with guns, and threaten to shoot anyone they see.

"Mhm, I knew it." Spoke that second voice, thick with Italian as she freezes, stuck to his short as an arm tightens around her, protecting her from the threat.

"Matteo, she is a friend." Alexander says, his voice strong, and despite that he has nothing to threaten with, it speaks a threat, it speaks of his strength, and speaks of his job.

"A friend? She is a spy!" He spits darkly, a disembodied voice that reeks of hatred.

"She is a Delmont." Alexander snarls in return, and though she hates those words, she has the bad feeling that it is the only thing keeping her from getting shot at that very moment.

"She is a dangerous child that will destroy us, A spy!" He responds, practically screaming with such a high-pitched voice. 

"She, is Emilia. Now, move." The tone gives her goosebumps, scares her more than anything else that had happened this evening, something dangerous that ripples beneath his skin as she feels his hand reach around her slowly in the dark and grab hold of the gun tucked into his waist and taking hold firmly.

"Spy! And you are helping!" The voice cries, anger and maybe a hint of fear marking it as he makes the fateful statement. "When HE finds out. ."

And that is when the loudest noise she has ever heard, collapses her eardrum as the gun fires beside it, his arm steady as a second shot fires. The man's sentence is never finished, gargling is the only noise that can be heard in the dead silence that follows, the gun placed by his side again, his heart rate had never even changed, his breath staying constant.

Emilia can't help herself as she turns to see the man that had most likely been shot just minutes ago. 

"No," Is all that Alexander says, holding her head to his chest and refusing to let her see the carnage as she tries to hold back tears, tries to keep the terror and confusion in her chest.

"Are you ready to go back, Miss Emilia?" He asks, his voice calm, he had just killed someone, how could he be so calm! She thinks numbly, only nodding her head, she knew that the man was dead, and she knew why, it was all her fault. If she hadn't asked to come here, the man would still be alive, he was dead, because of her.

Alexander places a hand over her eyes as he walks her past the body, only removing it once they are no longer in sight. But she has the feeling that not seeing the man will give her nightmares all the more imagination to expand on, as guilt eats up her chest.

Her curiosity was dangerous, and if she is going to figure this out, figure out why that man had almost shot them, and why he was dead, she would have to be more careful, and that meant, no distractions. Especially not the one sitting in front of her.

She thinks, determination in her eyes once more, and she sits in the seat, hand on her dusty towel as she watches him get in, she would be strong, and she would not be distracted, not one bit. She tells herself as the car pulls out slowly, her mind drifting to the body that was left behind and wondering if they would be as nameless as her father on a news article the next day.