He was rattled. She couldn’t blame him. She’d been warned that Leo was a very private man, and here she’d just rattled off two rather personal things about him that she guessed not many people knew.
“I honestly didn’t think you’d believe me, and I didn’t want to hang around here trying to convince you.” An unexpected flush rose to her cheeks. He would hardly be the first person to underestimate her or presume someone her size couldn’t protect lives. But was he always this suspicious? He was easily one of the most skeptical people she’d ever met. “When you’re my size you learn to make your first shot a big one, as it might be the only one you get.”
His eyebrow rose. “Like taking on a prowler and leaping off a balcony.”
“I was a nationally ranked gymnast growing up and I competed internationally in mixed martial arts until I was fifteen,” she said. “And yes, I work with Josh and Alex—as a bodyguard. Theresa consults for Ash, too, on occasion, and Josh’s wife, Samantha, sometimes helps with online research. In fact, I’m the only member of the team who didn’t get an invite to this shindig. But since Josh and Samantha are on their honeymoon, Theresa’s back home in Toronto seeing clients and Alex is outside manning the surveillance van, I got to be the person on the inside. I trust you won’t blow my cover.”
She might no longer be in his arms, but she was still standing so close to him she could almost feel him against her chest. She held her breath still half expecting him to tell her that she didn’t look like a bodyguard.
Instead Leo asked, “Who’s your client?”
“I’m here on surveillance only.” She took a step back. “A couple of our clients have been targeted by a particularly nasty gang of thieves. Samantha picked up some online chatter that three of them would be here tonight scoping out a new target. So, I’m here to hunt the potential thieves while they stalk their next target.” She took another step backward.
Leo’s arms crossed in front of his chest. “You knew thieves were targeting an international gala and you didn’t alert the police or security?”
“Of course we did,” she said. “But this particular group of thieves don’t pick pockets and grab handbags. They think of themselves as vigilantes, who in their own twisted logic are righting wrongs and meting out justice. They steal big things, like companies and identities. They plan stings that take months, to break into vaults or invent media scandals. Are you familiar with Greek mythology?”
He shook his head. “Let’s say I’m not.”
“They call themselves The Anemoi.” She pronounced it like “the enemy.” “Which roughly means a group of deadly storms. That’s what these thieves do. They destroy lives and leave them in ruins. They’ve targeted three of our clients so far, nobody has ever successfully identified a single member of their gang and the police seemed convinced they’re a myth. Internet chatter that three of them were here tonight, scoping out their next target, was too good an opportunity to pass up, and I’m not about to stand around and try to convince you they’re real when one is sneaking around the gardens as we speak.” She took another step back, sweeping her long skirt into her hand. “It really was a pleasure to meet you, Commander. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
“Wait!” Leo said. He was too late. She’d already vaulted backward, over the balcony.
She landed on the grass and rolled, feeling the soft damp earth absorb the blow. Then she sprang back up into a crouching position. She raised her bracelet microphone to her lips. “Okay, Alex, I’m down in the garden. Tell me you’ve still got eyes on our guy.”
“No, I don’t and security doesn’t have him, either.” Alex’s voice was in her ear. “Please tell me you didn’t just leap off the balcony.”
“He was frowning at me, and I didn’t want to waste time arguing with him.”
“Or climbing down safely. Or taking the stairs.”
She slipped into the shadows against the stone wall as her eyes scanned the night around her. Heavy iron fence lay to her right. Beyond it swirled the dark waters of the Saint Lawrence River. She headed left, toward the front of the building, following the path as it curved around flowers and fountains. “Just tell me what he looks like.”
“Samantha’s intel said there are three Anemoi thieves on-site tonight,” Alex said. “They go by the handles Prometheus, Pandora and Jason. Prometheus stole fire from Mount Olympus. Pandora opened a box that shouldn’t be opened. But Jason is a weird code name for a criminal.”
“Jason of the Argonauts stole a golden fleece,” Zoe said.
“Got it. Based on my intel, the guy skulking around the gardens is Prometheus. He’s really big with broad shoulders. Imagine a bull in a jumpsuit.”
“You hate being stuck in the van, don’t you?” she asked.
“At least Theresa’s happy I’m keeping out of danger.” He laughed. “Just wait until I tell her she missed hearing you flirt with the great Commander Darius.”
“We weren’t flirting.” She felt herself blush. Maybe the good-looking commander had taken her breath away, just a little. But Leo was a valiant and decorated national hero. She was just a bodyguard. Not to mention, he was also a devoted father. And she’d always suspected she wasn’t cut out for motherhood, even before a doctor had confirmed she’d never be able to have children of her own.
A man like him wouldn’t be drawn to a woman like her.
“Next time we have a mission like this, you can wear the fancy clothes and I’ll stick to blue jeans,” she added. She took one last glance back at the balcony. It was empty. Leo hadn’t come after her. But at least he hadn’t blown her cover. A long, thin braided belt skimmed the waist of her gown. She looped her fingers through it and with a quick tug, her long skirt pleated neatly into a knee-length tunic. She had matching athletic shorts on underneath. Ta-da. Bit of Samantha’s creative tailoring and she’d just gone from gown to something she could actually move around in.
“Is he as handsome in person as the media makes him out to be?” Alex asked.
She rolled her eyes and ignored his teasing.
A life in competitive sports, not to mention a string of unrequited teenage crushes, had taught her pretty quickly that there were two kinds of guys in the world. Those who viewed her as equal and were happy to fight alongside her, but saw her as nothing more than one of the guys. And those who saw her as a “girl.” They were an even bigger problem. Something about her threatened them, she supposed. All she knew was that too many of them had the urge to cut her down to size. A sly word here, a crude gesture there, the occasional demeaning comment when nobody was looking, day after day, from creep after creep, until she’d eventually snapped when she was fifteen, spun around and elbowed the offending guy in the face, not even registering that the camera was rolling. That had been the end of her competing internationally. Now that creep, Killian Lynch, was a famous face in the spotlight and she slunk in the shadows.
“You okay?” Alex asked. It was impossible to hide anything from him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She paused. The path ahead curved into a bridge over an ornamental pond. She started toward it. “But I saw Killian Lynch.”
The fist seemed to shoot out of nowhere as a black-clad figure leaped from the darkness. His arm swung toward Zoe’s face, giving her just seconds to dodge the blow as it flew inches from her jaw. She spun toward her attacker. Alex hadn’t been exaggerating—the man was huge, with a flat face that looked like it had been in too many fights. Her hands rose as years of competitive training coursed like adrenaline in her veins. But she barely had a second to catch her breath before a knife flashed in the moonlight.
“Found Prometheus!” She leaped back again as the blade swung inches away from her stomach. “He’s got a knife.”
“Do you need backup?”
“I might.” Her attacker slashed again. This time she ducked under the blade, then with a
quick flick of her wrists snapped the knife from his fingers. She heard it clatter in the darkness. Prometheus kicked the legs out from under her. She stumbled. Her stiletto heel snagged on the cobblestone. She pitched into a protective front roll, a sinking sensation filling her stomach as she felt the path disappear beneath her. She tumbled into the flower pond. Muddy water engulfed her body. She scrambled out again. Prometheus was gone.
“I lost him.” She yanked off her stilettos. Nonsense like this was why she hated working in fancy clothes. Her bare feet ran quickly and silently down the path. A utility door was open on her right. “Found an open door. He must be inside. He won’t get far.”
She slipped through the door. Air-conditioning raised goose bumps on her skin. She was in a historical gallery of some sort with flat glass cases and the eerie blue glow of dim emergency lights. “I’m going to keep trailing him. Okay, Alex... Alex?”
Silence from her earpiece. No typing. No static. No buzz.
No Alex.
Her earpiece must’ve shorted out when she hit the water. Help me, Lord. I’m on my own. Footsteps echoed in the distance. She sprinted through the hall and into another almost identical one, just in time to see the black-clad figure dart into a side door. The door slammed behind him. She yanked the knob. It was locked.
Nah, he wasn’t getting away that easily. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair, snapped it in half and went to work picking the lock. Beyond the door she could hear the clatter of things falling over and furniture being moved. Sounded like he was tossing the place. She whispered a prayer and focused on the lock. Then the floorboards creaked behind her. She spun. Her hands rose to strike. But a strong hand intercepted her blow, catching her small hand in his, and holding it firmly before she could pull it back.
“Nice punch.” It was Leo.
“Nice block.” She blinked and looked up at the tall, handsome uniformed officer. “What are you doing here?”
“I ran down the back stairs.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” The words slipped out of her lips before she’d stopped to think.
He chuckled. It was a deep, warm laugh that seemed to rumble from somewhere inside his chest. Heat was rising to her face again, and it didn’t help that he still hadn’t let go of her hand. “Well, after your rather dramatic exit, I went straight to the head of security and told him I thought I’d heard a bullet fired in the castle gardens. I then asked him point-blank if there was an intruder on the grounds. Do you know what he told me? He said all I’d heard was a car backfiring, not to worry and I should get back to the party.” Leo took a step back and pulled his hand from hers. “Then I spoke to a high-ranking police officer, who I casually know, and asked if he’d ever heard of The Anemoi. He laughed very loudly and told me The Anemoi was a myth.”
Zoe’s heart sank.
His hand slid into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Then, I sent a quick text to my old friend Josh Rhodes, even though I knew full well that he’s on his honeymoon, and asked him if he’d ever even heard of you. You can imagine how I felt when he texted back immediately, ‘She’s one of ours. Believe whatever she tells you. Do whatever she says.’”
A smile of relief brushed Zoe’s lips. Was it her imagination or was the air between them growing warmer? Leo took another step back. Then, for the first time, his gaze seemed to take her all in. His eyebrows rose. “What happened to you?”
“I found the intruder that security told you doesn’t exist,” she said. “He had a knife. We fought. I disarmed him. But he knocked me into a pond. Then he ran through that door.”
He reached past her for the door handle. Then winced. “It’s hot. Stand back.”
She stood back. He leveled one strong kick at the door that sent it flying back off its hinges.
She turned. Sudden white-hot fear shot up her spine.
The room was on fire.
TWO
Heat hit Leo’s body like a wave. Flames climbed the curtains of the coat-check room and spread out across the ceiling. Coats burned. Briefcases and laptop bags buckled in the heat. Dark smoke billowed toward them. His heart stopped. Every single piece of paper or electronic data that had been left in that room was being reduced to ashes. If the thief had stolen something, the fire would probably destroy any possibility of figuring out what it was. Had the thieves Zoe had been tracking either stolen or destroyed the intel he was after?
If so, the implications of what that could mean were positively terrifying. Leo had made one other phone call on his rapid descent down the stairs to the one person inside the navy he trusted, his superior, Admiral Jacobs. Jacobs hadn’t answered, and the last voice mail message he’d left for Leo hadn’t changed. The informant said they would be at the party. Their identity was still unknown, but Leo was authorized to wire them up to a quarter of a million dollars if the intel proved true. He glanced at the ceiling. “No sprinklers and no fire alarm.”
“There’s a fire extinguisher on the other side of the cloakroom.” Zoe’s voice came from behind him.
“It’s too late for that. We have to evacuate the building.” Wrapping his jacket around his hand, Leo grabbed the handle and yanked the door closed. “This fire door should help contain it long enough to evacuate. But we won’t have long. Get out of the building. Get a safe distance away, then call 9-1-1.”
Leo pressed his cell phone into her hand. She took it. Then her eyes closed for a fraction of a second and he watched as a prayer moved on her lips. Then she looked up at him. Fear was creeping in the edges of her eyes, but it did nothing to dim the determination burning within them. She gave him a push. “I’m on it. Just go. I’m right behind you!”
He ran through the hall, into a second almost identical one, and then burst through another door into the lobby. The English actor Nigel was standing by the front desk talking to an elderly security guard. They both looked up.
“The coat-check room is on fire,” Leo said. “Sprinklers aren’t working. We need to evacuate the building. I’ll get the ballroom. You clear the staff and the main floor. Now!”
He pelted up the winding staircase to the second-floor ballroom without waiting for a response. He hit the second-floor ballroom. Well-dressed people packed the room. Waitstaff weaved between them. His eyes scanned the room in an instant, trying to access the best way to evacuate without causing a panic. The last thing he wanted was to cause a stampede.
“Emergency services are on their way!” Zoe ran past him barefoot, like a tiny bolt of lightning. “Alex is trying to get the sprinklers back online. There’s a small lounge and balcony upstairs. I’ll go evacuate them while you sort out down here.”
She disappeared up a second smaller set of stairs. His head shook. That woman was unbelievable. He’d told her to escape the building and instead she was running right into danger. He strode across the floor to the stage and up to the podium, feeling the old, familiar authority with which he’d commanded battleships slipping around him like a mantle. He reached the microphone and tapped it twice. No sound. But, one glance at the man behind the sound board and it sprang to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please.” His voice filled the room. “Sorry to interrupt the party, but there is a small contained fire in a separate section of the building downstairs. Emergency services are on their way. What I need you to do is to just calmly walk downstairs and wait outside on the grass, so they can come in here and do their jobs.” Voices began to babble. Questions rose around him. He raised his hand. “We can all talk outside. But right now, I need you to exit the building. Quickly and quietly. Go.”
The babbling grew louder. But he also caught the eyes of a handful of men and women, who he could tell at a glance had also served their country and community in one way or another and knew how to handle a crisis. They started ushering those around them toward the staircase. Guests star
ted filing down the stairs. People in kitchen uniforms and waitstaff poured out side doors. Still others streamed down from the floor above. The hall began to clear. He breathed a sigh of relief and a prayer of thanksgiving. The fire door wouldn’t hold forever. But he had hope the building would clear before the fire spread. He walked back to the stairs and positioned himself on the landing to direct traffic, until finally the trickle of people heading out the doors stopped.
But where was Zoe?
He started back across the now empty ballroom to the stairs he’d seen her run up. The smell of smoke grew heavier in the air. Then he saw a waiter—tall and thin with long blond hair and goatee—kneeling on something behind the stage.
“Hey!” Leo ran toward him. “You need to get out of here!”
The waiter didn’t move. Instead he grabbed a phone from his pocket and took a picture of whatever was on the floor.
“This isn’t a drill.” Leo grabbed the man’s shoulder. “The building’s on fire!”
The waiter leaped up and wrenched his shoulder away from Leo’s grasp. Then he spun toward Leo and through the smoky air Leo could barely make out the shape of something long and black in his hand. The waiter lunged toward him. A knife? A gun? A Taser? Leo had only seconds to react as he knocked it free from the man’s hand. It was a thick black marker. And for the first time Leo saw what he had been kneeling on. It was the banner of him and his girls. Ugly black marker lines crossed the canvas, slashing the picture in between Leo and his daughters, and severing the connection between his hand and Eve’s.
“What do you want?” Leo demanded. “Who started the fire? What’s the meaning of this?”
A scream split the smoke-filled air. It was Zoe. The sound of fear and pain that ripped from her lungs seemed to tear his own chest in two. The waiter slithered away and pelted for the stairs.
“Zoe! Hang on, I’m coming!” Leo ran across the ballroom and up the narrow flight of stairs that led up to the third floor. A woman was tearing down the stairs toward him. It was a waitress in black pants and a crisp black shirt. Long, unnaturally bright red hair fell over her shoulders. He barely managed to stop as she nearly collided with him. “What happened? Why is my friend screaming?”
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