who knew that story. But she wasn’t done. “When you returned to Canada, a year ago, Josh gave you a call and told you that his good friend Alex had gotten engaged to an amazing psychotherapist named Theresa, who specialized in child trauma. He said that she lived near Toronto but was willing to drive out to Ottawa to see your daughters, if you thought it would help them. Josh is my colleague. Alex is my colleague and my stepbrother—we both lost a parent when we were young. Josh, Alex and I are bodyguards for a very private and elite firm called Ash Private Security.”
Leo’s grip loosened. She slipped from his arms and landed on her feet on the balcony.
“Talk about pulling out the big guns,” Leo said. “You could’ve just told me you worked with Josh.”
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,
