Irishman’s smile was thin. “But there’s been a lot of media attention on this conference and the delegates. I put out a call on my website for tips and received several requests for stories about you. Some of them raised the issue of your family situation. I’d be happy to share with you what I’ve received and even give you an opportunity to review it for your reaction—”
“I don’t care about rumors, and I don’t read gossip,” Leo cut him off. “Marisa was an incredible mother. She passed away unexpectedly last summer from an invasive, malignant cancer. My daughters miss her terribly. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He turned on his heels and strode off. The sooner this mission was over the better. He wasn’t cut out for the spotlight. While he didn’t know for certain what kind of dirt the man had thought he’d found, he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone did the math and realized Ivy had been the result of a teenage pregnancy. Leo had been an emotionally switched off eighteen-year-old, when he’d had a brief relationship with a straight-A student named Marisa, who’d been blinded by a superficial crush on what she imagined might lie beneath his very private shell. The relationship had been a total mistake. Her attraction to him had quickly faded, but not before Ivy was conceived. He’d proposed marriage and joined the navy to support her and the baby. It had been the right decision and one he’d never doubted, even after it had become clear Marisa would never be in love with him. They’d been quietly estranged for years, despite the brief and failed attempt to rekindle a relationship that had resulted in Eve. But the girls had come first. Marisa had been a very protective mother. He wasn’t about to let his past become tabloid fodder now.
Meeting his informant and getting the intel safely was all that mattered.
Leo reached the balcony and slid the door open just in time to see the woman in red hop up onto the balcony railing.
“Stop!” He shut the door quickly behind him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She turned and looked at him, her stiletto shoes still a hairbreadth away from the ledge. Wind tossed her black hair around her heart-shaped face. A curious smile turned at the corner of her lips. “Don’t worry, Commander. I’m Zoe Dean. It’s only about an eight-foot drop and the lawn is pretty soft, especially after the rain. Please, just go back to the party.”
Everything about this picture was wrong. She said her name like it should mean something to him, but it didn’t, and while he did know someone with the Dean family name, it was the tall, blond linebacker-type who was engaged to Ivy and Eve’s therapist, Theresa. Zoe’s nose wrinkled, like she was listening to someone talking in a hidden earpiece. She raised her wrist to her mouth and spoke into an intricate bracelet that curled against her skin. “One second, bro. I’ve got a situation. It’s Commander Darius. What do I tell him?”
He glanced over his shoulder. The curtains had closed behind him. Who was this woman? He seriously doubted she was his informant. Yet the idea that she wasn’t was even more worrying. If he didn’t return to the event, and get back to mingling, he might miss his opportunity to get the drug-smuggling intel. But if the only other option was letting a strange, armed woman skulk around leaping off of balconies, that wasn’t any better. Guide me, Lord.
“Clearly you know who I am,” he said. He stepped toward her. “Which means you know I’m not about to let you hop off over the balcony. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get down off that railing and tell me exactly who you are, who you’re talking to and what you’re doing here.”
A gunshot cracked somewhere in the darkness below. Zoe’s head spun toward the sound. A cry escaped her lips, as her feet slipped off the crumbling edge of the balcony.
* * *
Zoe’s hands flailed, grasping at the empty air as she felt her footing give way beneath her. Her body pitched backward. A prayer filled her heart. Then a strong arm slid around her waist, yanking her back onto the balcony. Leo had leaped for her. She clutched at his arm, even as she felt the weight of gravity threatening to pull her from his grasp. A second strong arm went under her knees, as Leo lifted her into his arms and pulled her back against the castle wall, like some kind of knight carrying a damsel to safety. What had just happened? She was a bodyguard, a mixed martial arts specialist and had once been an internationally ranked gymnast. She didn’t need some dashing man in uniform to protect her and rescue her from falling. She never had. Yet, here she was in the commander’s arms, pressed so tightly against his chest she almost couldn’t tell where his heartbeat ended and hers began. “Put me down.”
His arms held firm. “Not until you tell me who you are, what you’re doing here and why somebody just shot at you.”
“I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the target,” she said. “Sounded like the shot came from somewhere on the grounds below us.”
They’d better not have shot at her. Ash Private Security thrived on its secrecy. In the dozens of undercover operations she’d been involved with as a private bodyguard, since helping found the company with her stepbrother, Alex, and their friend Josh, her cover had never once been blown.
“Good news, sis.” Alex’s voice crackled in her ear. “No imminent danger. No casualties. No reaction from within the party, either. Nothing to worry about. Just looks like the guy we were tracking shot out one of the security cameras in the castle gardens. My best guess is he’s heading around the building to one of the side doors, but I can’t tell which one. Two security guards are looking for him now, but once he slips inside he could blend in and be anybody. If the commander’s still holding you up, I suggest you tell him whatever it takes to get him to let you go.”
She looked at Leo. “There’s a prowler on the castle grounds, he shot out a surveillance camera in the gardens and security are looking for him now. Check with security and I’m sure they’ll say the same.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said.
“I told you, my name is Zoe Dean. My brother, Alex, is engaged to Theresa Vaughan. I spotted a prowler. I can stop him and turn him over to security, but not until you let me go.”
Leo brushed her hair away from her face, his finger tracing along the edges of her tiny earpiece. Then his fingers slid over her wrist, holding her hand gently while keeping the microphone in her bracelet away from her lips. His other hand tapped the leg holster strapped to her calf. A shiver ran up the back of her knee. He still hadn’t set her down.
“Let me make this very simple,” Leo said. “I don’t believe you. I’ve met Alex Dean, and he looks nothing like you. You’ve got a microphone in your bracelet, you’re wearing an earpiece, and unless I’m very much mistaken I can feel a pretty solid leg holster on your calf. Knife, though, not gun, so at least that’s one law you’re not breaking. So either you come up with a much more convincing story than that or I’ll have you arrested.”
“Is that a challenge?” she asked.
He grinned, but only slightly like he couldn’t help himself.
“Then let me make one thing clear,” she said. “The only reason I didn’t go for a quick, sharp jab to your windpipe and leave you here gasping for breath, is because you’re very respected by a couple of people who I’d give my life for and I promised them I wouldn’t cause a disturbance.”
“Really?” His dark eyebrows rose.
“Yes, really,” she said. It seemed like he was determined to doubt her. “Do you want me to prove it to you? When you were serving in the Middle East, you transported a soldier
