Private Bodyguard. Tyler Anne Snell
the morning in one. Darling wondered how Nigel Marks’s act would shake the community’s relative peace and quiet. She made a mental note to grab a newspaper after her breakfast date was finished to see how the media had handled it.
“Hey, Trudy,” Darling greeted the bundled-up secretary. She was the first and only barrier between the front doors and the bullpen.
“Darlin’ Smith, I hope you’re not in trouble again,” she said. Her tone was laced with disapproval. Trudy had more grandchildren than most people had fingers. She was proud of this and often acted as Mulligan’s mother hen, believing she had earned that right even more with every relation that had come from her and her children.
“Not today,” she said with a small smile. “But I do need to see Derrick. Is he in?”
“No, ma’am. He should be in soon, though. Do you want to wait?”
“Um, no, but can I just leave something on his desk?” Darling flashed the woman the folder, though the pictures were in her other hand. Trudy nodded and let Darling around her to the rows of desks. Another cop sat focused on his computer and didn’t seem to notice or care as she went to Derrick’s space in the corner. Glancing at a picture of Derrick’s niece and nephew positioned next to his keyboard, Darling felt as if she was making a good decision by turning the evidence in. Derrick wasn’t her Mr. Right, but he was a good, just man.
However, in true Darling fashion, she quickly snapped pictures of each individual image and their corresponding dates before slipping them into the folder, minus the newspaper clipping. She stuffed that into her back pocket.
A source dropped these off at my office today. Darling.
She scribbled down the lie and was suddenly glad that Derrick and his questions weren’t there yet. He’d call her, no doubt, but not until after he had investigated the evidence. If he caught her now, it would be the other way around, a thought that made her hightail it out of the station.
Dodging one ex only to get into the car with another.
* * *
THE RED LEAF was one of two local coffee shops in Mulligan. Like the town, it was quaint, yet endearing in its own right. They also made a mean coffee, Darling said after she had returned from the station. She hadn’t apologized for her outburst, but he hadn’t expected her to, either.
Bailing Darling Smith out of jail had never been on Oliver’s list of scenarios for when, and if, they ever met again. Sure, he’d thought of the possibility of crossing paths when he went home to California to visit family. Maybe even a random encounter in an airport as he traveled for work. But never like this.
Occasionally, he’d wonder what he would say to her during a chance encounter. How have you been? Isn’t the weather nice? Have you cut your hair? They weren’t good greetings, but how else could he skate around the topic of their past? Now, as they sat across from each other in a worn leather booth, he doubted such a thing could be accomplished. Darling hadn’t forgotten or forgiven what he’d done, and he couldn’t blame her for that.
He hadn’t forgiven himself yet, either.
“Expecting a call?” he asked as she took care to adjust the volume on her cell.
“Expecting? No. Hoping? Still no, but I can’t ignore it.” He raised his eyebrow so she explained, “Work-related.”
“Ah, I know the feeling.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and placed it on the table, as well. With the recent changes in the job, Nikki had made it clear she wanted all guards to have their phones on at all times, even when they were off the clock.
“So, I have to ask. You didn’t seem at all surprised to see me yesterday... Why?” she asked, getting the conversational ball rolling. Darling had never been a fan of silence.
Unlike the seventeen-year-old he had left behind, this Darling was all grown and all woman. Oliver couldn’t deny she was beautiful—she always had been—but now there was something more as he really looked at her. The way her dark green eyes bore into his, trying to figure him out, was so fierce it almost shook his resolve to leave the past just where it was.
“My boss told me the name and I couldn’t imagine it being a coincidence,” he said honestly. “Though I wasn’t a hundred percent given the circumstances.”
“Ah...circumstances. You mean the trespassing accusation.”
Oliver made a gun with his hand. “Bingo.”
“Well,” she said, “given recent developments, I’d say that accusation is the least of everyone’s worries. Wouldn’t you agree?” she finished, crossing her arms over her chest. That movement meant Oliver needed to tread softly.
“We wouldn’t have taken on this case if he was a bad man, Darling. I stand by what I said earlier. Just because he was there doesn’t mean he did it, and I’d like to ask you to drop whatever case you might still have that involves him,” he said. And, apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. Almost instantly the color in her cheeks rose, her brows lifted and her lips thinned. Knowing a storm was brewing, Oliver made a second conversational mistake, hoping to pacify her. “For old times’ sake, Darling.”
He might as well have kicked her beneath the table.
“I can’t believe you’re still simply rolling over for the big dogs,” she bit out, angry. “Nigel Marks is a millionaire, so that makes whatever he does justifiable? Is that why you do what you do, Oliver? Do you get some kind of thrill from protecting the rich? Did you ever stop and wonder why that’s even necessary? No, you probably don’t, because all you care about is pleasing the elite, just waiting for them to yell ‘jump.’”
She stood so abruptly that the booth’s seat pushed back and scraped the tile. The waitress and few patrons looked over, but Darling seemed oblivious. Like them, Oliver looked at her, but in a state of awe.
“You know what?” she said. “I’m not going to sit here and be talked to like I’m still the girl you used to know.” She grabbed her purse and started to leave, pausing for a second to finish her tirade. “And Oliver, if I still had a case, I certainly wouldn’t drop it ‘for old times’ sake.’”
And just like that Darling Smith became the one who left.
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