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.
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
