She’d felt like it was all her fault.
Of course her doctor and family had assured that it wasn’t. But something inside her stubborn, sixteen-year-old heart had felt like somehow in the split second it had taken to lose her temper and swing an elbow back at the taunting creep behind her, she’d disqualified herself from parenthood just like she’d disqualified herself from competing. “Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents” was one of those lines people like Leo would say. That was how she felt, just not cut out, like some faulty paper doll left behind on the page.
A cheer echoed down from the end of the street. A large Canadian flag appeared on the horizon followed by men and women in uniform, marching in unison, waving to the crowd, throwing out what she knew from the intel would be maple candy. Then she saw the naval float and nearly laughed into her tea. It was a giant, cardboard and papier-mâché battleship, bedecked in flags, moving at a snail’s crawl. She watched its slow approach. Eve and Ivy stood on the bow flanked by Theresa and Alex on either side. Eve was bouncing up and down, in a flowing, sparkling red dress. Ivy stood beside her, in a more grown-up red dress and little white jacket. The preteen had her sister firmly by one hand, and the other hand clutching Fluff. Somehow they’d gotten the dog to wear a bow, and she was certain it had been Ivy’s stubborn doing. Zoe would have to ask her about it later. She’d never once gotten her own terrier, Oz, to wear a bow without him promptly tearing it to pieces.
Then she saw Leo, standing tall in the pretend crow’s nest of the pretend boat, and her breath caught in her throat. He was wearing a dress uniform, just like he had on the night they’d met. A pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses shielded his face from the sun, but she could tell he was scanning the crowd. He’d gotten a haircut since she’d seen him last. Not quite military buzz, but short in a way that accentuated the strength of his face and the lines of his jaw, yet still left just enough on top for a woman to run her fingers through. A flush rose to her cheeks at the thought. What was she doing letting herself think that way?
“Oh! Excuse me.” A woman jostled her slightly, bumping into Zoe’s table. “I’m so sorry.”
The table wobbled. Zoe turned. The woman was in her twenties, in a hot-pink yoga outfit, tinted sunglasses and a mop of blond curls that cascaded all the way down her waist.
“No problem,” Zoe said. “These tables are pretty unsteady. You’re not the first.”
The woman had a steaming cup of something that smelled like vanilla hazelnut coffee in her hand and a British tabloid tucked under her arm. She set both down in front of Zoe, then leaned her elbows on the table to steady it.
“Not a bad-looking man, is he? That navy guy.” The blonde stranger smiled, and leaned in. “I was just reading that he’s going to be the hot ticket item in a bachelor auction this weekend. Makes me wish I had a good amount of jingle in my pocket.”
A bachelor auction? Really? Leo had just told them it would be an auction to raise money for building children’s hospitals, but had said nothing about the bachelor part. Did Leo have any idea how incredibly difficult that was going to make their jobs as bodyguards? They’d have no way of knowing who was going to bid on him or who would win the special date, not to mention how to watch his back while he was with the woman in question. He’d been very clear with her that he’d promised Marisa he’d avoid any romantic entanglements until his daughters were grown.
“No, I didn’t know that,” Zoe said, feeling her smile tighten. “I don’t read gossip.”
She turned back to the window. Leo’s float moved closer. Cheers rose around it, like a wave of noise accompanying it down the street. The earpiece had gone silent again and she wasn’t about to open the link unless there was an actual emergency. The float finally rolled past. Leo’s back was to her again. Zoe exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath ever since she’d seen him coming. Why did this moody, complicated, distant man have such an effect on her? Was it because he was the best-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on? Was it because whenever he did let his guard down long enough to let her look inside all she could see was pain? He was like a lone warrior who’d spent his whole life struggling from battle to battle, and needed someone to watch his back so he wouldn’t have to fight alone. Even though he’d made it clear she wasn’t the kind of backup that he wanted.
She leaned back in her chair and stretched. Thankfully, the blonde had wandered off, but she’d left both her empty take-out cup and tabloid on the table. Zoe grabbed the cup, crumpled it into her hand and tossed it across the room into the garbage can. She made the shot without even hitting the rim. Then she glanced down at the tabloid and almost snorted at the headline glaring up at her.
Captain Darius Told: Forget that Woman from the Fire!
Pitiful. He was a commander, not a captain, first of all. The words were accompanied by a picture of her and Leo leaping from the castle fire. The image was so grainy that if it wasn’t for her fluttering skirt there was no way to even guess she was female, let alone recognize her. The cover told her that story continued on page three. Her common sense told her that she should really toss it in the garbage without reading further. Her curiosity won. She turned to page three.
Is Canada’s Favorite Naval Widower Out to Catch a New Mother for His Children?
Special by Killian Lynch
Something inside her balked. Anger burned in the pit of her stomach and she turned it into prayer. Lord, it’s so unjust. How do I cope with knowing Killian’s star keeps rising when he’s such an odious person? How do I let my anger go?
When she’d been a teenager, she’d told herself that one day Killian Lynch would get his just deserts for how he treated people. She used to recite a Bible verse in her heart, every time he harassed and taunted her, about how God wasn’t fooled. But now, years later, it felt like no matter what he did he was bulletproof. Sure, he was a creep who’d harassed women, wrote sensationalist headlines that distorted the truth and even now had a reputation for goading people into losing their temper just to grab damaging quotes and pictures of them. But he was still a minor celebrity. And she was a nobody.
She knew she should throw the magazine into the garbage. Instead, her eyes scanned the page. It wasn’t so much a news article as a tribute to just how amazing Leo was and how so many beautiful, eligible women had posted comments online about how they’d like to be Leo’s wife and the mother of his girls. Words spilled down the page outlining Leo’s accomplishments, battles, medals and his heroic actions, and highlighting the impressive attributes of the beautiful, educated, wealthy and talented women who might show up at the bachelor auction to bid for him.
Lord, I know I shouldn’t be reading this. I know I shouldn’t let this infect me. But it does. And it hurts. Help me not to sabotage my peace and my confidence.
She prayed, even as she felt herself losing the battle to keep reading, just like she used to read the negative press about her years ago, back when critical words hurt like physical pain, causing her to skip meals, exercise too hard and push herself too far past her physical limits. She kept reading, like someone sabotaging her healthy habits by splurging on food they didn’t even like the taste of, even as she felt herself teetering back into the darkness of low self-esteem and insecurity.
She reached the last line. It was continued onto another page. She bit her lip and flipped.
Black marker scrawled thick across the page, in a huge storm cloud and forks of lightning. The Anemoi.
Zoe leaped to her feet. Her eyes darted around the café. The blonde was nowhere to be seen. “Alex, Leo, we’ve got a problem. Someone dropped a magazine with a storm cloud drawn in it on my table.”
“Do you have eyes?” Alex asked.
“No.” Zoe pushed her way out onto the patio. Desperately she scanned the crowd. How had she been so distracted? How had she missed the threat?
“Another taunt or
a specific warning?” Leo asked.
“A taunt. A picture of a storm cloud drawn on a tabloid article about you. Woman who dropped it on my table had hot-pink workout clothes, a pink baseball cap and lots of long, curly blond hair.”
“Pandora again in a new disguise?” Alex asked.
“Probably.” And she’d missed it. A flash of pink appeared through the crowd to her right. She hopped off the patio and pushed her way along the sidewalk. “Okay, I think I’ve got eyes. I’m going after her.”
“Stay safe,” Alex said. “Don’t let it get to you.”
She knew what he meant, but how could she not let it get to her? The woman had played her, taunted her and made a fool out of her. Not to mention clearly recognized her as someone Leo knew. People pressed thick around her. She pushed through the crowd, focusing on the blond curls and pink cap. She felt like an idiot. Alex had always said that nobody could beat Zoe up half as bad as she beat herself up. But this time, she deserved it.
“When do we alert police?” Alex asked.
“Like Leo said, it’s just someone taunting us. It’s criminal harassment, nothing more.” She pressed forward. The towering fake naval ship floated down the road ahead of her. “I suggest we find a cop here and see if we can get them to help us detain her. How soon until you reach the fairgrounds?”
“Maybe twenty,” Alex said. “But I don’t have eyes on you.”
“I’m following you up the street. I’m nearing the arch. There’s an officer directing traffic at the next side street.”
The woman started to jog. Zoe dashed after her, pushing through the crowd.
“I don’t want you engaging when I can’t see you,” Alex said.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve reached a cop.”
He was tall and thin, with blond hair and a goatee.
“Excuse me, Officer, I need your help.” Words spilled over each other in their rush to get out. “That woman in the pink hat just threatened Commander Leo Darius.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Zoe Dean.” The cop’s voice was a low hiss, cutting through the babble of the crowd. Then she felt the unmistakable tip of a gun pressing into her stomach. “I really don’t want to hurt you, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with me. Just do what I tell you, come quietly and you won’t get killed.”
“Who are you?” Her hands rose slowly. “Where are you taking me?”
The crowd was still jostling around her, oblivious to the danger she was in. She could hear Alex and Leo now, shouting in her ear. But in an instant a rough hand yanked the earpiece out of her ear from behind and a second gun dug hard into the small of her back. She glanced over her shoulder.
“Prometheus,” she said. She glanced back at the cop. “I’m guessing that makes you Jason of the Argonauts.”
A gun to her front, a second gun to her back, and there she was trapped in the middle. People streamed past them on either side—families, small children, senior citizens. She’d taken out criminals with weapons before. But never two at once and not with innocent bystanders on every side.
As if reading her mind, Prometheus chuckled. “Now, you’re coming with us. If you try anything, we’ll fire into the crowd and people will die. Is that what you want?”
No. No, she didn’t. She was being kidnapped in public, with no way to reach the rest of her team, and dozens of innocent people all around her as potential collateral.
Help me, Lord. What do I do? How do I escape?
She’d walked into a trap.
SEVEN
“Alex!” Leo’s eyes scanned the crowd below him. “What’s happening? Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I know what you know. She’s in danger. She was talking to a fake cop. She said something about being kidnapped, and I don’t have eyes.”
Leo could tell Zoe’s brother was struggling to keep the panic he was feeling from his voice. He looked down. Alex was standing in the bow of the fake boat with Theresa, their bodies forming a protective shelter around Leo’s girls as they smiled and waved at the crowd. The parade was slowing. The fairgrounds were only a few minutes ahead now.
Please, God! Help Zoe! Help me find her!
He’d lost eyes on her, too, now, and the irony of that killed him. He’d noticed her sitting on the coffee shop patio even before the float had made it halfway down the street. No matter how many times he’d told himself to look away after that something had kept drawing his eyes back to her, time and again, like a moth to a flame. She’d always been there, lurking just out of the corner of his eye. Now she was gone and everything in him needed to find her.
The float stopped again. The crowd moved. Then he saw her. She was walking along a thin alley between two buildings. Two men were with her.
“I saw her!” Leo said. “She’s in a network of alleys behind the stores. I see two hostiles.”
“Thank You, God,” Alex whispered a prayer. Then he said, “Okay, I still can’t see her, so I’m going to need you to direct me on how to find her. Do I leave the girls here with Theresa and go after Zoe right away? Or do I wait for you to climb down here to secure the girls and then try to find Zoe?”
Both were bad options. Theresa was an excellent therapist but she wasn’t a bodyguard, and if Leo climbed down he’d lose his vantage point, not to mention they’d lose valuable time. He watched as Zoe and her kidnappers reached the end of the alley and turned into another one. The parade moved forward again. He lost her again.
“I’ve lost eyes.” Leo groaned.
“Can you direct me?”
“Not well enough to risk Zoe’s life on it,” Leo said, “and I don’t want you leaving the girls. We need a third option.”
“Well I’m open to any ideas you’ve got. And I’m praying.”
Leo was praying, too. The metal archway loomed ahead signaling that they were only fifteen minutes away from the end of the parade. That was fifteen minutes too long. He needed to go after her now. The commander’s eyes rose to the heavens. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going to go after her.”
“How?”
“I’m going to take the archway to the roof. Then I’ll be able to search the alleys from above.”
“That’s a really bad idea,” Alex said. He sounded slightly impressed.
The float rolled forward and he saw Zoe again. Her kidnappers pushed her down another narrow alley. A car blocked the end. Its trunk opened.
“I know. But I’ve got eyes again and the kidnappers have a car. Staying up high is the only way to maintain visual. It’s rooftops or nothing. If I wait until the cherry picker reaches the ground I’ll lose any hope of finding her.”
The archway was just a few feet ahead of him now.
“You leaping from the top of the parade float is going to cause a pretty big scene. I’m just saying.”
Yeah, he knew. But it was that or letting criminals take Zoe.
“I wouldn’t do it if there was any other way.” Leo braced his legs.
The archway grew closer. Ten feet. Eight feet.
“Just promise me you’ll protect my daughters.”
Six feet. Four feet.
“I will,” Alex said. “With my life. You have my word.”
“Don’t let them worry. Tell them I’ll be fine.”
Two feet.
“I will,” Alex said. “Please, save my sister.”
“I will.” Leo leaped.
He grabbed the bottom of the archway with both hands. His legs swung in thin air. The float disappeared beneath him. Voices shouted. He gritted his teeth, blocked them out, and pulled himself up to his feet. The ledge was so thin he could barely get more than his toes on and a fingertip grip. He worked his way sideways across the arch, feeling an old, familiar musc
le ache. It had been a long, long time since he’d done basic training, and the regular physical fitness test he got now was nowhere near as exciting as the crazy obstacles he used to scale back then. But despite the danger and despite the risk, he felt strangely alive in a way he hadn’t in a very long time.
He dropped down onto the rooftop and ran toward the alley. Later the full impact of what this meant for his cover and work with Admiral Jacobs would hit him. But for now the sound of the crowd faded to the back of his mind as his ears focused on one crystal clear sound ahead of him: Zoe was screaming.
He could see the end of the roof looming ahead of him. Just six feet, maybe seven lay between him and the next rooftop ahead of him. His footsteps sped up. He hit the edge of the rooftop and jumped, feeling the empty air surround him as he threw his body forward.
Zoe’s screams echoed up from somewhere ahead of him: screams of fear, screams of determination and strength, the yells of a warrior fighting for her life.
I’m coming Zoe! Just hang on! He hit the roof and pitched forward into a front roll, barely managing to regain his balance before he reached the edge of the second roof. He crouched and looked down.
Prometheus had grabbed Zoe from behind. His arms clenched around her throat pulling her backward toward the car. Jason was standing by the trunk, at the ready to shut her inside.
“Leave her alone!” The three words flew from Leo’s mouth with the strength and force of bullets firing inside him. He leaped over the edge of the roof and onto the fire escape. His feet pounded down the steps. Jason dove for the car. Prometheus yanked Zoe against him in a choke hold and opened fire. Bullets flew wild and unsteady, ricocheting off the fire escape and the metal garbage cans below. Below him he could see Zoe thrashing and struggling against Prometheus, even as he fired inches away from her head. They weren’t going to take her. Leo wasn’t going to let them. Not while he had a beat left in his chest. Leo vaulted over the end of the fire escape and let his body drop, landing hard on the dirty cement, and then rolled behind a Dumpster.
Protective Measures Page 8
