smile was warm. Unexpectedly, she could feel a genuine smile tugging at the corner of her own lips, too. “It’s honestly really nice to meet you, too.”
They shook hands. His grip was surprisingly gentle. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m just fine. Thanks to you.” She felt herself blush. “You saved my life.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I was there.”
Yes, but why had he been there in that parking garage?
They sat. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. How could she simply press him for information knowing that the last time she’d seen him, he’d cradled her into his arms and carried her to safety? Yet how could she feel this close to a man she knew practically nothing about? Come on, Olivia. Think like a reporter. “Well, I’m glad you knew what to do. The whole thing was like something out of a nightmare. Am I right in remembering you said you were a bodyguard?”
He nodded. “I used to be, yes.”
“So you’re a fighter, then?”
He laughed, a warm chuckle that seemed to roll off his shoulders. “I’m anything but. When you’re a head taller than most people, with muscle to match, you learn it doesn’t take a lot to hurt them, even without meaning to. The way I saw it, my job was to de-escalate violence and get my clients away from bad situations, not escalate trouble. So I’d use force, obviously, but only wisely and only when needed. Other bodyguards used to joke that I didn’t actually need weapons, I just needed to stand there and look imposing. Used to call me the gentle giant.”
“No weapons, huh?” Her gaze dropped to his muscular arms, now resting on the table. There was so much she wanted to know. “So you’re not into guns?”
He frowned. “I don’t have a license to carry a handgun or anything like that, if that’s what you’re asking. I do own a shotgun, though. But just for hunting birds.”
He looked bothered by the question for some reason. She changed the topic back to the safer territory. “How long were you overseas?”
“Oh, years.” He ran one hand through his hair. “When I was still in high school, I got a security job for a company here. By the time I was twenty-one the boss was taking me with him on business. I was always pretty tall and I used to have a full beard, too, so I guess I looked pretty scary. Then I got hired by a personal security company overseas. Mostly I’d escort foreign businesspeople around and keep them out of trouble.”
“That’s amazing.” Fragments of him speeding through the smoke-filled garage flickered in the back of her mind. “Did you ever escort any journalists?”
“A few. Mostly in and out of war zones.”
Wow. “Sounds dangerous.”
“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It’s only really dangerous if the person you’re protecting doesn’t follow directions. When someone’s protecting you it’s vital you’re able to do what you’re told without argument. The last thing you want is someone freaking out and running off madly. I mean, sometimes running is what keeps you alive. But sometimes running can get you killed, if you run in the wrong direction. A lot of the time, I had to subtly alert people of danger without causing them to panic, or even ask questions.”
She leaned forward. “Can you give me an example?”
“Of how I’d warn someone of danger?” he asked. “Okay, your initials are OB, right? Say we were together and I spotted something. I might tap out your initials in Morse code on a surface, or even on your arm.”
His fingers hovered over her wrist for a moment, like he was about to tap lightly on her skin. Then he pulled back and tapped the table beside it—one long beat, three short, three long. She watched his fingers as they moved.
“I can’t imagine why you’d ever give up that life to come back to Canada.”
She looked up. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. Sadness maybe? Regret?
Then he blinked again, the unguarded flash of emotion was gone and only the politeness of an acquaintance remained. “Carpentry has always been a passion of mine, too. So I was happy to be able to pick up a hammer again. Being back gave me a chance to rebuild an old house that a relative left me, not far from here.”
None of which even began to answer her question. A waitress dropped two menus on the table then left without so much as a nod. Over half the items were crossed off. Another long pause spread out between them. Whatever Daniel had wanted to talk to her about, he wasn’t in a hurry to bring it up and he’d sounded so hesitant on the phone she hated the idea of pushing him. As much as she suspected she’d probably quite enjoy just listening to his stories for hours, they were hardly here for small talk. Ricky’s printout of the Faceless Crew website was folded inside her notepad. She slid it out onto the table but didn’t unfold it.
There really was no easy way to ask this. “Were you working for Leslie Construction, then? Either as a carpenter or as some kind of security?”
He sat up straight. Not surprising, considering she’d basically just asked if Brian had stolen from him or if the man had been killed on his watch. Or both.
“No.” He shook his head, as if the question surprised him. “No, not at all. I mean, I did a handful of shifts for Leslie, here and there, a few years back when I needed a bit of extra money. Mostly I’m an independent contractor.”
Now they were both surprised. “Then, why were you in the garage during the trial?”
“I was hoping to have the chance to have a quick word with Brian in private.”
Her eyebrows rose. “About what?”
“A personal matter.” His mouth set in a grim line, as though she was stepping over the line of whatever he was willing to let her know. He leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What do you know about the Leslie family?”
There was an edge to his voice. It was as if he was testing her in some way she couldn’t put a finger on.
She flipped her small notepad open, even though she knew what her notes said without even having to glance. “I know that Leslie Construction was started by Brian Leslie’s father sometime in the early seventies. When he died, the company passed down to Brian and his sister, Mona. Mona had a reputation of being quite the party girl and got arrested on a handful of drinking and drug-related charges. But the crew generally liked her. They weren’t so fond of Brian, who took over full ownership of the company when Mona died about four years ago.”
The look of Daniel’s face was serious, focused and inscrutable.
She kept going. “Brian had a gambling problem and tried to both cheat on his taxes and steal from his employees. But he wasn’t very good at it and got caught. The court changed its mind about prosecuting him before the trial even started. We saw him get murdered. Now Brian is dead, the company is in shambles and will be passed down to his teenage niece, Sarah.” She leaned back. “Now here I am talking to you.” And you won’t tell me why.
Another pause, then Daniel let out a long breath. “Okay. So that’s a bit more than I was expecting. But a good starting point. Anything
