Saving Her Guard

  First Published in Great Britain in 2021 by

  LOVE AFRICA PRESS

  103 Reaver House, 12 East Street, Epsom KT17 1HX

  www.loveafricapress.com

  Text copyright © Kiru Taye, 2021

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  The right of Kiru Taye to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN:

  Also available as paperback

  Dedication

  To my readers,

  Without you there is no Kiru Taye.

  THE PROTECTORS SERIES

  Healing His Medic by Nana Prah

  Unravelling his Mark by Zee Monodee

  Saving Her Guard by Kiru Taye

  Blurb

  Upstanding royal bodyguard Kojo’s primary job is to protect the prime princess of Bagumi from danger. So, when his charge vanishes from her star-studded party at a Lagos hotel, he knows his life won’t be worth living if he doesn’t find her in one piece. Unfortunately, with inept local law enforcement and dead-end leads, time is running out fast.

  Until a chance encounter with a mysterious woman sets his instincts on alert and his heart into overdrive. He’s sure the seductive and lethal Latifah holds the answers to his quest. But, how low is he ready to fall to rescue the princess and redeem himself?

  This is a Royal House of Saene spinoff and should be read after His Captive Princess (Royal House of Saene #3) to avoid spoilers and for maximum enjoyment.

  Chapter 1

  Kojo Hamadou walked through the ballroom of the luxury Goldcrest Hotel Suites in Lagos. The scent of exotic flowers filled the air. White and red blossoms sat in thin white vases atop brocade covered tables. His shoes thudded on the shiny hard marble floor. Overhead, chandeliers and spotlights glimmered, making everything dazzle and glow.

  The party planners had done well with the classy decorations in preparation for the celebrations this evening. Not that he had an eye for such things except where they hindered or enhanced his job.

  In this case, the expensive linens flowing to the floor obscured his line of vision, turning the array of tables into potential hideaways for trouble. He moved through the rows of furniture, checking each table to ensure nothing unexpected lurked beneath the coverings—weapon-toting stowaways or explosive devices.

  A little extreme for an engagement party. However, the guests included the crème de la crème of Nigerian high society. Not to mention that the celebrant was a high-born princess and the daughter of the ruler of an African nation.

  Added to the mix was the current state of Nigeria as a security hot spot, and he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  Another man worked the space alongside him from the opposite direction, methodically lifting the brocade cloths and peering underneath as he moved towards Kojo.

  Discrete temporary cameras for the closed-circuit security monitors had been installed and checked by Cruz Security Solutions, a firm he collaborated with in Nigeria. In addition, the team had a command base already set up in one of the hotel’s conference suites, so they had eyes into the ballroom already.

  However, none of the camera angles picked up what lay under the white brocades. Hence the need for this final sweep after the party planners finished decorating and before the event started.

  Once they were done, security personnel would stand guard until the doors were officially opened for the party. The guests would have their bags and bodies checked and scanned before being given entry. Each cleared invitee would be given a tagged wristband, which would track their whereabouts during the event if someone had to leave the venue and return.

  A mild headache made Kojo’s temples throb and his jaw tense. It had been a long hectic week—five straight days of being constantly alert except for the five hours he slept each night.

  As the primary protection officer for Her Royal Highness, First Princess Isha Saene of the Kingdom of Bagumi, his job included ensuring all arrangements had been made to secure the venue.

  The party was in honour of her recent engagement and organised by her Nigerian best friend Princess Amara Onoh, hence the location.

  During international trips, guarding the prime princess required extra effort because he didn’t have his usual team alongside. HRH liked to travel without a large entourage. Therefore, creating the need to collaborate with outfits like the Cruz team responsible for Princess Amara’s safety.

  Still, he would be glad when the trip ended, and they returned to their home country in two days.

  He had some R&R downtime coming up.

  During the last phone conversation with his mother, she’d complained he hadn’t visited for a long while.

  Although he was entitled to a week off every quarter, excluding the two-days-a-week rest days, he hadn’t taken a holiday in about six months.

  Princess Isha’s calendar had been filled for the same period. And most of the engagements had been abroad. Since he was Primary, he didn’t like delegating her international trips’ security to anyone else. So, he tended to take his breaks when she was in Bagumi and on lowkey or palace-based duties.

  According to HRH’s calendar, she had no more international visits after this Nigerian trip for the next month or so. She would be at home on personal time, finalising her upcoming wedding arrangements.

  So, he’d booked to take some time off then. The plan was to spend the long Easter weekend with his parents, brothers, and their families—if his middle sibling wasn’t on an active mission. Then, the Tuesday after, he would travel with his friends to Cape Verde for a week before returning to the palace to resume his duties.

  A smile curled his lips as he imagined what three bachelors with no obligations could get up for a few days abroad.

  “Work hard, play hard,” Prince Zik, Isha’s second brother, liked to say often. The prince lived the motto.

  Kojo worked damned hard, ethos drummed into him by a family of patriotic overachievers. But he rarely had the opportunity to party like the prince did.

  So, when his friend suggested the upcoming lads’ island trip, Kojo signed up for it. He only had one life, and he might as well enjoy it. Everything shouldn’t be about work.

  “All clear,” the Cruz security personnel said when they completed the checks.

  “Good,” Kojo replied, satisfied nothing lurked inside that shouldn’t be here. “Stay here until Kenny sends the replacements to man the doors. I’m going to walk the perimeter before heading upstairs to check on HRH.”

  “Sure.” The man nodded.

  Kojo left him on sentry duty and stepped through the open double glass doors leading to the patio and gardens. The sun was low, casting long shadows in the dusk light.

  There were teams upstairs now, guarding the suites where the princesses prepared for the event. So, he could afford to be down here while she was in the safety of the hotel suite surrounded by other bodyguards.

  However, the minute Princess Isha left the privacy of her room for the party venue, Kojo would be by her side. When all else failed, it was his job to stand between her and any threats. The danger increased exponentially when she was in public spaces.

  But while she was indoors, in her private suite, he could undertake other activities to minimise the risks, like chec
king the immediate surroundings of the ballroom for any potential hazards.

  Taking a deep breath of evening breeze scented with hibiscus, he raised his hands and massaged his temples. Although he wasn’t a fan of pills, he would have to take painkillers to ward off the looming migraine and stay focused tonight.

  He glanced at his wristwatch, a gift from HRH on his last birthday. The iconic expensive water-resistant timepiece had a stainless-steel case, black rubber strap, a personalised dial, a GPS tracker, and an integral touchscreen. The thing even predicted the weather. He loved it.

  A smile curled his lips as he registered the analogue and digital displays on the round dial—Time: eight minutes past six o’clock. Steps: 12,654. Weather: 25OC and clear skies. Next calendar item: 19:00.

  He’d been up for over twelve hours, but his workday wasn’t done yet. The party would start in less than an hour.

  Turning a corner, he pulled his phone out to call the security suite and let them know he was heading upstairs.

  A laundry cart barrelled into his midriff, knocking him back. Oomph.

  “Oh!” the female cleaner gasped behind a mountain of iron-pressed, folded linen.

  “Watch where you’re going!” he snapped, his irritability rising as he wondered if he would have to change his whole attire before the event. He was already in formal trousers and shoes. Just needed the dress white shirt and tuxedo jacket to complete the outfit for the occasion.

  He looked down, checking himself. He wasn’t injured, and his clothes were not damaged. There was a scuff on the hip of black trousers. He rubbed, and it came off quickly. No harm done.

  “You can go.” He waved a hand for the woman to carry on past him.

  “I’m sorry,” the husky voice sizzled down his spine, made him stop and pay attention when he would’ve continued walking.

  At first glance, she wasn’t remarkable. She was tiny. Her head didn’t reach his shoulders. Her midi-length blue-checked pinafore with a company logo hugged abundant curves top and bottom. On her feet were white trainers. Her hair was long, blue-black, with a fringe obscuring half of her chocolate-brown face.

  She swiped her cheek with the back of her hand, keeping her face averted, full lips downturned.

  Had he upset her? He wasn’t usually cranky, but the headache made him snappy. His belly knotted with regret for shouting at her, and he sighed. “I’m sorry for shouting.”

  Considering her height, how could she even see above the pile of clean laundry? That she had the strength to push the heavy, overloaded trolley astounded him.

  “No, it’s not your fault.” She shook her head, making the hair fly in the wind for a moment, mesmerising him. “I should’ve been careful. But I was upset.”

  Their gazes collided. The woman had the most intriguing clear amber eyes he’d ever seen. They caught the light from the outdoor lamps and gleamed with curiosity. Just perfection.

  He wanted to get lost in them. But her words prodded him, putting him in protective mode. He glanced in the direction she’d come to see if there was someone there. “Are you okay? Did someone do something to you?”

  “No.” She paused. “It’s just my boss being an asshole. It should be my weekend off work. But he insisted that I come to work and threatened to sack me if I didn’t.”

  “Oh, that’s definitely an asshole move,” he tried making a joke.

  He was rewarded with a smile, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. And he’d been hanging around stunning princesses and elite personalities for over a decade.

  None of them compared to this cleaner lady.

  “Thank you. You’re sweet.” She was well-spoken too. Her tone lacked any regional inflexions, making it difficult to place her accent. She sounded well-educated and over-qualified to be a cleaner.

  Then again, unlike the Bagumian economy, which was thriving, Nigeria’s was heading in the opposite direction. The country had a high unemployment rate for young people. So, a university graduate could end up as a cleaner to make ends meet.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, I’m also working this weekend.”

  Okay. Now he was flirting. But he couldn’t help himself. Everything else was suspended for these few minutes. He would like to extend the time with her and get to know her better.

  “Oh, I thought you were a guest. Do you work at the hotel? I haven’t seen you before.” Her gaze swept over his body and left a trail of heat.

  Did she like what she saw?

  “I’m not hotel staff.” He left it at that, not wanting to divulge confidential information. He couldn’t forget his job.

  “Oh, okay. I better get back to work.” She pushed the trolley, a smile curling her lips. “Nice to meet you, Mr Stranger.”

  He grinned. He liked her. “It’s Kojo, by the way.”

  “Okay. Nice to meet you, Mr Kojo By-The-Way.” She winked and carried on down the path towards the service entrance.

  He laughed and chased after her. “Hold up. You haven’t told me your name.”

  “Why do you want to know?” She kept walking.

  He wanted to know for personal as well as professional reasons. Since she was working around the party venue, he needed to make sure she was security cleared. And he couldn’t do that without knowing her name.

  The safety of the princess ranked above his personal life.

  But he didn’t want her to know he was security yet, so he told her the personal reason. “I would like to know, so I know who to ask for when I come to ask you out on a date.”

  A smile lit her face as she halted. “You’d like to ask me out on a date?”

  “Well, yes. I would like to take you out to a meal, the movies. But we’re both working this weekend, and I’ll be gone by Sunday night.”

  “I’d like that.” Abandoning the trolley, she stepped up to him. “But how about I come up to your room later when I finish? We can order room service and Netflix and chill.”

  She trailed her hand down his chest until it rested on his tenting trousers and cupped his dick.

  Eyes widening, he sucked in a sharp breath. Even through the fabrics, the feel of her touch was a brand—bold, possessive, erotic. He’d felt nothing like it. Not that he had many sexual encounters with women.

  Regardless, one thing was apparent. He craved this woman. Wanted to spend time with her in whatever form it entailed—watching movies or getting laid.

  Did she really want him, or was she teasing? He wasn’t used to women as brazen as her. He’d been propositioned a few times. Wealthy women seemed to think bodyguards were fair game. Or escorts. But he never entertained them. He didn’t want to do anything to taint his family or employer’s name.

  However, this woman didn’t know him or his employer. So, if she wanted him, she wanted Kojo, not the bodyguard for her bed notch.

  “You sure?” He sucked in a deep breath. She smelled so sweet. So sexy.

  “Yes. What’s your room number?” She caressed him.

  His breath hitched, and his dick thickened.

  “4-1-8.” The number came out in a low growl as he fought for some control.

  He seemed to be turning into putty in her hands. Or rather, turning into stone. He’d never been so turned on.

  “I’ll be there around midnight,” she said in a sultry voice before stepping away. She shoved the trolley through an open doorway.

  He missed her touch immediately. “I still don’t know your name.”

  “It’s Grace. Grace Bello.” She said but didn’t look back.

  He watched her walk down the corridor as he raised the phone in his hand. Then he turned away and dialled a number. “Dapo, please check this name in the system for me. Grace Bello.”

  He waited a few seconds for the other man to do his thing on the computer and get back to him.

  “Grace Bello, female, 35, works in hotel support services, employed for three years. No criminal records. No alerts on the system. Is there a problem?” Dapo replied.


  “No problem. Thanks.” Kojo exhaled in relief.

  Grace had cleared security, which meant he could look forward to spending the night with her. He couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 2

  Latifah Kamto slowed her steps along the wide service corridor. White fluorescent bulbs lit the worn, charcoal-painted concrete floor and scuffed grey walls. Empty trolleys lined the right side.

  She tilted her head and glanced at the man she’d been talking to seconds ago.

  Although he hadn’t mentioned his full name or identity, she knew many things about him.

  He was born Kojo Andre Hamadou, raised in a family of three male children. His father was currently serving in the armed forces, and his mother was a nurse. He lived in Darusa, the capital city of Bagumi Kingdom, where he worked as Head Royal Guard to the First Princess of the kingdom.

  The main reason Latifah had an interest in him? She needed him to achieve the objectives of the current mission.

  A mission that would see her executed if caught. Or at the very least imprisoned for life.

  But she had been on risky missions before. And the cause was more than worthwhile.

  Anyway, she’d become good at evading capture from various authorities. So perhaps her luck would hold out this time too. Although, she strived not to depend on luck and made her own.

  Hence, the reason she was watching Kojo now.

  His back was turned to her, and his phone lifted to his ear. She wasn’t close enough to hear his low voice from this distance. Yet it rumbled in her left ear through the black earpiece hidden behind the stresses of long hair.

  “Dapo, please check this name in the system for me. Grace Bello.”

  The tiny audio transmitter she’d planted inside Kojo’s front, right, trouser pocket was working fine then.

  Of course, she couldn’t hear what the person on the other side of the conversation said. The bug could only pick up sounds around Kojo. If she’d planted it on the collar of his shirt, then she would be able to hear two-way phone chatter.