Private Bodyguard. Tyler Anne Snell
let out a long breath. She had already researched the millionaire, but that didn’t mean she was buying what he was selling. “He donated a new wing to the children’s library.”
“That’s right. He was here for a little over a week, and he brought joy to an entire town’s kids. Now he’s coming to stay for almost a month. His visits, even if they are work related, usually benefit our community.” He paused, making sure he let his words sink in before he tacked on, “We want him to enjoy that stay, not worry about some spunky private eye.”
“I preferred ‘cute,’” she grumbled.
“Well, I preferred starting my Tuesday morning with a cup of coffee and not picking up a criminal just as the sun rose.”
“Accused criminal.”
He rolled his eyes and checked his watch. Derrick was tall, had jet-black hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was handsome, sure, but he also wasn’t anywhere near her type. Though, admittedly, her type had revolved around one man and one man alone throughout the years. She stopped herself before she could picture him, angry for entertaining thoughts of a past best forgotten.
“Okay, I’m going to head back up,” he said. “I just wanted to come check on you and see if you wanted that one phone call.”
“But Deputy, why would I call you when you’re already here?”
“Oh, Darling, how I’ve missed your sarcasm.” They both knew that was a bold-faced lie.
It had been two days since Elizabeth Marks had walked into Acuity Investigations and asked for the twenty-five-year-old’s help. Darling could recall with almost perfect precision the way the graceful woman had breezed in. She had shaken Darling’s hand with a firm grip but had seemed hesitant to introduce herself. However, Darling hadn’t needed to know the woman’s name to understand she was important, if only financially so. It had been Elizabeth’s shoes—silver-toed, red-soled, python-heeled Louboutin shoes—that had spoken volumes to Darling. Mrs. Marks came from money, and that always made a case more interesting.
“My husband is having an affair,” Elizabeth had said after adjusting the Gucci sunglasses that sat atop her crown of bleach-blond hair. “I just need concrete proof now.”
Darling had been taken aback. Normally when a spouse sought out a private investigator, it was to confirm a suspicion. The way Elizabeth’s back had straightened and her shoulders had squared had suggested there were no doubts in her accusation.
“If you already know he’s cheating, why do you need the proof?” Darling had asked.
A surge of energy had seemed to pulse through Elizabeth. Her face had become lively for a moment.
“We married when I was young, my husband, Nigel, and I. His career was just taking off, and we were so in love. He drew up a prenuptial agreement that I should never have signed, but I was foolish and naive and believed he was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” She had stopped herself then, as if trying to pick the right words. “If I divorce him right now, because of the prenup, I’ll receive almost nothing. Even the money I personally earned. But if I get proof that he’s cheating, it will void the prenup and I can take at least half of what he owns, which will be enough for me.”
So that had been the bottom line.
Darling sat on the uncomfortable cell’s cot as the memory of their first meeting came to an end and a new wave of determination washed over her. She wasn’t the biggest fan of the wealthy—having a past like hers left an unforgettably sour taste in her mouth for them—but she had believed in the woman’s pain and anger enough to want to help. Just because Darling had fought her own personal battle against the rich, and lost, didn’t mean Elizabeth deserved the same fate.
* * *
“YOU SURE YOU can do this?”
Oliver Quinn looked up from the desk to see his boss leaning in the doorway. Nikki Waters’s tone was light, though her demeanor carried unintentional importance. Since she not only founded the Orion Security Group but also ran it, he decided that importance was deserved. He certainly respected it.
“Excuse me?” he asked, half of his mind still going through the travel details in the open folder between his hands. He was twenty minutes away from heading to the airport to start a three-week contract and, since Oliver was the lead agent of Team Delta, he was triple-checking their route. He wanted to avoid as much traffic as possible—a goal made easier by the somewhat remote location.
“Maine,” she replied, staying in the doorway. It was almost seven in the morning and she was dressed in her workout clothes, her dark red hair slicked back in a short pony tail. Most likely she was headed to the twenty-four-hour gym across the street. There were several of them spread throughout downtown Dallas. “In April, no less.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow at her.
“Oh, come on,” she continued with a smile. “Every time I checked in on you during that stint in Montana two years ago, you talked about how crazy you were going from being in the cold.”
If he had been a rookie like Thomas, the newest addition to Delta, or even someone who had been around a year like Grant, he would have thought she was serious in questioning whether he could do the job or not. However, if there was one thing he rarely doubted, it was Nikki’s faith in his abilities. If she hadn’t believed in them, she wouldn’t have sought him out when Orion had only been a name.
“What can I say? I’m from California. We tend to love the sun and heat. I don’t think Maine will be too bad, though. I’m just glad we aren’t going there a month earlier. I can handle April.”
She laughed. It was clipped. He knew something was bothering her and waited until she spoke again.
“Listen, I wanted to thank you for not giving me grief about this client,” she said. “I know Mark and Jonathan think taking him on is unnecessary.” She was referring to the lead agents of the other two teams and Oliver’s closest friends. They had worked together before Orion, sharing a past that had been fused together by tragedy.
“They don’t like thinking about the big picture,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. He knew she had been struggling with her decision to accept millionaire Nigel Marks as a client.
“It’s just...” She hesitated. “We’ve spent the last few years claiming to protect those who need it but can’t afford it. That’s the Orion Group’s bottom line. We provide security and guarantee safety to those who don’t have bottomless pockets. And now we’re taking on an almost monthlong project with a millionaire?” She sighed. “I feel like I’m selling out.”
“But if we don’t occasionally pick up an elite client, then we can’t continue to be Robin Hoods. Right?”
Nikki snorted. “Robin Hoods, huh?”
“Well, we don’t steal from the rich, but you get the idea.”
She seemed to like that way of thinking and nodded. “You’re right. I need to be firm in this decision. You’re heading there soon?”
Oliver pulled out his plane ticket. “Since he insisted on us meeting him there, I want to head up there a little earlier to make sure everything is okay,” he said. “The rest of Team Delta will follow but might be a bit late since their flight last night was cancelled.”
“Team Delta. It still sounds as corny as it did when Mark suggested the name.”
“Says the woman who named her security group Orion,” he replied. Though as he said it, he glanced past her to a picture framed on the wall. The real reason behind the name.
The picture weighed less than an ounce, but it left an unbelievably heavy weight on his heart.
Nikki didn’t have to follow his gaze. She knew what he was feeling. Her pain had turned to anger over the years. His had only drowned in guilt.
“Well, be careful,”