Shots fired! Get down! Don't move! Her driver kept screaming as she lay snuggled between her seatbelt and the leather Bentley seat with her trembling hands wrapped around her ears and her head to the floor. Everything went numb as shattered glass sprayed all over the back seat some even sticking on her hair. Her hearing was fuzzy as the heavy artillery her supposed assassins used rang out uncontrollably, piercing the unusually serene highway air.

The driver kept on swiveling and controlling the car as much as he could with a bullet stuck in his arm and before she could scream, the dark-tinted SUV which was in a hot chase with them ran into the convertible, sending them flying into the woods and ending up stuck in a ditch. She finally made it to my driver who pushed her out of the car signaling her to run.

"There she is! Get her! Quick!" The leader of the assassins ordered with a thick British accent as he raised his tattoo-ridden arm in the direction in which she limped off. Hardly had she covered any distance, had they caught up with her as her injured leg did nothing but slow her down.

She was wrestled down, restricted, and dragged to their waiting getaway car with her trembling hands in cuffs, face soaked in tears marring her makeup and quivering lips blabbing away endless pleas.

A while ago, she was on the way to her office scanning through some documents with absolutely nothing to fidget about, now it seemed her haughty spoilt rich kid life was about to fall to pieces.

Her name is Jane and she is a 25-year-old accountant, an only child to Mr. and Mrs. Morrison, meaning she was next in line to inherit her parents' wealth. She is a modeled blonde with an envied structure that fits curvy hips into long flawless legs, and a slightly chiseled jaw, and sky blue eyes that people always seemed to get lost in. Not to brag but, she is perfect.

But here she was. The "perfect" dream girl laying tied up and unconscious at the back of a truck surrounded by men she knew only one thing about; they meant no good for her. Well, she hoped to get through this.

****

"Sir, we will get back to you."

Marcus sat composed at the other end of the mahogany desk as the manager spat out those words. He was sick and tired of hearing that verdict as it only exclaimed he had just lost another revenue source. But this time, he wasn't going to take it. So with his hand slamming the desk, he barked; "No you won't. Why do you people always say that when you know it's never going to happen?"

"Sir, please behave or I'll have to call security," a now frightened manager cautioned.

"Go ahead. You are lucky I don't hurt women, if not you'd be unconscious before you know it."

Grabbing the documents he stormed out of the office jamming the door noisily on his way out. He hissed out of frustration as he thought this week was going to be less sordid. His mother and sister were counting on him and the bills were stacking up, he needed to figure another way out soon. Sighing, he unwounded the patched-up seat of his old beat-up truck and lay back muttering under his breath— "If Brian were here, he would know what to do."

Just as sleep was about to sting his eyelids, he heard a gunshot. Bang! His eyelids flipped open and his whole body jerkily arose. The sound alone was enough to flood his skin with goosebumps. On impulse, he flicked his car on, put it in motion, and followed the dispersing crowd to scurry away, not minding his extended seat.

Then he picked up a sound. It's a voice so sweet yet so torn, a lady's scream. He says suddenly hits the breaks pulling the car to a concealed stop where he analyses the situation before him.

He saw a lady about his age hopping on one leg unsuccessful in escaping from the grasp of her attacker. He suddenly feel this urge to intervene, so he pulled out his pistol from the glove compartment of his truck and headed out stealthily with his weapon loaded, ready to discharge, and held upright in front of him.

"Let's go. The client is waiting," he watched as who he figured to be the leader of the three men gang commanded the remaining two in his hoarse accent.

"Boss, I need to urinate!"

"Are you stupid? Make it quick eh!" The boss thundered to the accomplice, who advanced further into the woods, as he occupied the passenger seat next to their driver.

Taking advantage of the loose end opportunity, Marcus snuck up behind the man and wrapping his arm around the predator's neck took him to the ground in seconds and incapacitated him from alerting the others by stuffing the man's mouth with his handkerchief.

He then advanced to the car and occupied the back area silently and while they were debating on what was taking the man so long, he buried a blade in the driver's neck causing the hands-on-wheels to unleash his firearm blindly into the dashboard of the car.

The kidnappers were dazzled as they were not expecting any police rescue for the next five minutes. This placed the boss in shock but before he could reach for his gun, one of his partner's bullets had greased his arm leaving a deep flesh wound. With his hand dripping blood, he sprang out of the car and headed to the bushes where he slowly crawled through the dew-carpeted forest floor until he was out of sight.

Meanwhile, when Marcus had made sure the assassins were all gone, he went back in the car and uncuffed the lady with the keys he found in the driver's coat, untied her feet, cupped her in his arms, and hurried over to his truck across the street and phoned the police. He then paused to take a look at the masterpiece that lay before him.

She had fair skin so smooth your hand could easily slip while grabbing it, a figure that fitted with ease into the short sleeve gown she had on, and silky blonde hair. He couldn't help but trail his tender nail tips as he wiped the blood off her long flawless legs. He wondered, "Why would anyone want to hurt her?"

The blaring sirens followed by flashing blue and red lights signaled the police were incoming so he stepped off his truck and stood still waiting to be interrogated.

****

Jane's eyes fluttered open to the sound of beeping machines and her mom beckoning on her to lay back and relax. As soon as her eyelids parted, the bright light sent its fiery gaze gluing them back up. She had to then slowly acclimatize her vision only to discover she was laying down on a hospital bed with a pounding head. She tried moving but the needles attached to her didn't permit it.

"Relax. Don't move. I'll call the doctor," said her mom as she rang the bedside phone.

"He'll be here soon. How are you feeling?" Mrs. Morrison asked with concern written all over her as soon as she dropped the phone.

The doctor soon walked in and started checking Jane's temperature and stuff. He said it was a mild migraine that she was bound to face after being knocked out.

"I'm fine. How did you guys come so quickly?" she snapped at her mom immediately after the doctor left, with her face cold as always.

"We had just landed in town when we heard the news. I am only grateful to him for stepping in as he did," her mom said pointing to the door where her father stood conversing with an attractive young man.

"Who is he?"

"Oh, you're awake. Are you okay? I promise to strangle the asshole who did this to you…" her dad kept ranting as he barged into the room when he noticed her sitting up.

It's just his overprotective nature. Who wouldn't be mindful of their only born? He then started conversing with my mom who then explained my situation to him. She took the chance to finally glance at the stranger who had now shared a seat with her mother on the couch.

He was freaking hot! He had his dark hair curl through his scalp, his chiseled shoulders, and voluptuous chest that looked as if they would burst out of his shirt any minute, not to talk about the seductive but benign smile he flashed from his face when her parents said something funny. She was drooling.

"You know what? You need an assistant, someone to keep you safe, to prevent this from reoccurring," her mom called out to her breaking into her thoughts.

"Wait, what?" she blurted out in protest.

Her father then felt the need to make it weird by saying, "That's right. And I think the perfect man for the job is Marcus."

"Who's Marcus?" she inquired.

"I am," the stranger finally spoke out in a sensual deep masculine voice.

"Jane, meet Marcus. Marcus, meet Jane. He told me earlier he had experience working as a guard." her father introduced them.

"Hi," he waved with a smile plastered on his face.

Ignoring him, she turned to her dad, "But dad we barely even know this man. How do you even trust a person you just met today? He could be a serial killer for all we know."

Leaning towards her from the bed he sat, Her dad whispered, "Be thankful to the man, you owe him your life. Fine. I'll scrutinize him for a few days and make sure he's capable of protecting you as he seems. Just talk with him and don't be rude to him angel, okay?"

"I can't promise I won't."

"You two should get acquainted while we go arrange for your discharge," and with that, her father took her mom's hand leading her out of the room.