Protective Measures

UNDERCOVER BODYGUARD

After an attack at a military charity gala, navy commander Leo Darius learns someone wants to kill him—and kidnap his two daughters. And there’s nothing the recently widowed single father won’t do to protect his girls...even if it means asking a beautiful bodyguard to pose as his girlfriend. Though security expert Zoe Dean agrees to handle the threats and near-fatal assaults, she refuses to get attached to the handsome commander and his lovely daughters. But with the would-be kidnappers closing in, saving Leo and the little girls, while protecting her heart, may be one mission Zoe can’t master.

A scream ripped from her lungs.

“Hang on, Zoe. I’m coming!”

It’s not your job. Zoe’s voice echoed in his memory. Your job is to go home safely to your daughters.

Not till he found her.

James bolted up the staircase and found Zoe curled in a ball on the balcony.

“Someone pepper-sprayed me. I can’t see.” A fit of coughing overtook her.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you out of here.” He looked toward the stairs, but smoke filled the staircase now.

“We have to jump and aim for the lake,” Zoe said. “But there’s a stone walkway and a wrought iron fence between us and it.”

“We have no choice.” He swept her up in his arms, stepped onto the railing...and leaped.

It seemed to take forever till she hit water. When she broke through the surface, she saw the castle in flames, but no sign of James.

Then she saw the rugged spikes of the fence and his torn uniform hanging from it. And on it was an unmistakable stain. Blood.

Dear Reader,

When was the last time you did something that scared you? I’ve never written a book about children before this one. Honestly, I’ve always been intimidated by the thought of creating small fictional children and letting them run loose on the page. But I wrote this over the summer, when my own girls were home from school, and they encouraged me to bring Ivy and Eve to life.

Like Zoe, I was once told I’d never have children, and while that turned out not to be the case, that moment is still sharp in my memory. Like both Leo and Zoe, I’ve had plenty of days worrying that I wasn’t as good a parent as I wanted to be. I’m so thankful to my girls for helping me find strength and courage I never knew I had.

Thank you again to all the amazing readers who’ve gotten in touch with their thoughts, questions and suggestions about the characters and their stories. The best place to reach me is on Twitter at @MaggieKBlack or through my website, www.maggiekblack.com. I really do love hearing what you think. Several of you wrote to ask me what Seth from Tactical Rescue was up to now, and I was glad when Leo and Zoe’s brush with espionage gave a little bit of a hint into that.

Also, Arwen wrote to ask what had happened to the cat in Kidnapped at Christmas. The cat is doing great. Samantha found it when she was moving out of her apartment. It’s now very happy living with her and Josh, and often curls up on the chair beside her when she’s reading.

Thank you all for sharing this journey with me,

Maggie

MAGGIE K. BLACK is an award-winning journalist and romantic suspense author with an insatiable love of traveling the world. She has lived in the American South, Europe and the Middle East. She now makes her home in Canada with her history-teacher husband, their two beautiful girls and a small but mighty dog. Maggie enjoys connecting with her readers at maggiekblack.com.

Protective Measures

Maggie K. Black

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities nor powers, neither things present nor things to come...shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

—Romans 8:38–39

Thanks as always to my agent Melissa Jeglinski, my editor Emily Rodmell and the rest of the Love Inspired team for helping me bring these stories to life.

Thank you also to the amazing people at the Harlequin Distribution Center in Depew, NY, who I got the opportunity to visit while writing this book. They ship millions of books a year and are the friendly voices readers hear when they call. For all you do to connect writers to readers, thank you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

It was a flash of deep red silk that first caught naval commander Leo Darius’s attention, followed by a gust of humid air seeping in through one of the balcony doors of the Thousand Islands castle. His steel-gray eyes rose. Their intense gaze cut through the crowded ballroom. But he barely managed to catch a glimpse of the petite, dark-haired woman as she slipped out through the curtains and onto one of the historical building’s stone balconies. There’d been no mistaking the outline of a weapons holster strapped to her leg, underneath the folds of her long crimson gown. She was beautiful and dangerous.

But was she carrying the vital military secrets he was there to intercept?

Leo’s six-foot frame straightened almost to attention, filling out the crisp lines of his naval dress uniform. He strode across the ballroom, through the flashing cameras, clinking glasses and babble of small talk that filled the room like the thrum of summer bees. A prayer filled his heart. Please let this handoff go quickly and smoothly. A whole lot of lives are counting on me.

It was hard to imagine a mission or battle that was more different to what he was used to. The decorated naval officer had dedicated his life to taking out violent pirates and smugglers on dangerous waters, until the death of his estranged wife, Marisa, had forced him home to raise their two daughters. He’d never expected to be attending events like these, even if it was just as a cover. The weeklong international symposium was supposed to be about celebrating cooperation and hope. Yet, somewhere in all the glitz and glamour was an informant who claimed to be carrying proof that corrupt elements within Canada’s own navy had been cooperating with drug smugglers in the North Sea. Leo’s mission was simple: find the informant, get the data and analyze whether it was true. He hoped the dazzling stranger was the person he was there to meet. Although he couldn’t imagine what kind of woman wore a weapon with evening wear.

“Commander Darius, right?” A male voice with an Irish accent made Leo stop. He turned. Two men stood behind him, both of whom he recognized from the press coverage surrounding the event. The Irishman Killian Lynch was a former wrestling champion turned celebrity journalist. He was in his early thirties, with horn-rimmed glasses perched just above a slight dent on the bridge of an otherwise long and straight nose. The other, Nigel Blackwell, was English, heavier set and an actor who specialized in period dramas. Both men were rising stars and came from countries whose navy patrolled the North Sea.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Leo shook their hands in turn and exchanged brief introductions. The threat potential of this intel was so high that no one but his own admiral knew of his mission. As far as the gathered guests were concerned Leo was just another delegate. It was a good cover and one that no one would question. Leo was a decorated hero and widower with a picture-perfect family. Not to mention the ability to lock his thoughts and feelings away like a steel trap.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t signed up to take part in the charity auction on Saturday.” Nigel’s voice boomed with a hint of a chuckle that Leo suspected was practiced. “I will be serving as auctioneer and all the money raised will go to an international charity that builds children’s hospitals around the world. I do hope we can count on you.”

“Absolutely,” Leo said. “Put me down for a meal at one of Ottawa’s top restaurants, followed by tickets to the theater.” A quick call to the tourism office should sort that quickly enough.

Nigel seemed satisfied with that and wandered off to the dessert table, leaving Leo alone with the Irish journalist.

“I’m surprised you didn’t suggest something involving your family,” Killian said. “The media are always so eager to get their hands on anything to do with children. Those are your girls, correct?”

Killian gestured to a banner hanging beside the stage. Leo followed his gaze. There alongside banners of the other delegates was a picture of Ivy and Eve, running with him beside the Ottawa River. Blonde and pigtailed, eight-year-old Eve practically bounded off the canvas. But the cautious look in twelve-year-old Ivy’s green eyes mirrored the one Leo could feel seeping into his own.

“Yup, they’re the genuine article,” Leo said. “But I’m afraid the only event they’re taking part in is the parade on Friday.” They’d be on a float beside him, visible but protected. Although if all went according to plan the mission would be over by then and he’d be able to skip the rest of the week’s events. “Enjoy your evening.”

Leo continued across the floor. The curtains billowed slightly. The woman in crimson was still standing on the balcony. She was barely five foot tall, with the lithe build of an athlete and dark, luminous eyes that almost seemed to be looking right at him. Leo felt a hand on his shoulder and realized Killian had followed him.

“Excuse me, Commander,” Killian said. “Apologies for being direct, but I don’t think you realize the situation you’re in.”

“And what situation would that be?”

“Clearly you’re new to the spotlight.” The 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 on one of your missions called Joshua Rhodes. Josh tipped you off about a drug smuggler in your crew and you had the smuggler dishonorably discharged.” Leo’s face paled. The skeptical grin faded. Yeah, she imagined he could count on one hand the number of people 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.”