Private Bodyguard (2 page)

“If you're going to keep bothering me, the least you could do is bring me a coffee,” she called when the footsteps stopped outside of the bars.

“Well, I haven't been in town long, but I'm sure I could find some somewhere.”

Darling's heart skipped a beat. Slowly she raised her head to look at the new speaker. She could only stare.

Out of all of the town jails in the world, Oliver Quinn had picked hers to make a grand appearance in.

It had been almost eight years since she had seen him, yet she recognized him instantly. Brushing six feet, the twenty-eight-year-old had broad shoulders and a stocky but muscular build, giving him the look of a well-toned soccer player. His blond hair was cut short but not too short, still covering the top of his forehead with a golden swoop. His amber-colored eyes and ridiculously soft-looking lips only added to the attractive angles of his tanned face. Not to mention a jawline that simply begged to be touched. For a moment Darling wondered why she ever had ill feelings toward the man who looked like an angel. But then, all at once, she remembered not only who he was but also what he had done.

No matter how handsome he was, Oliver Quinn had crushed her heart. A fact Darling wouldn't forgive or forget anytime soon.

“Miss Smith, this is the security agent Nigel Marks sent,” Deputy Derrick said, coming up behind Oliver. “His name is—” He stopped, noticing Darling's deer-in-headlights stare. “You okay?”

Oliver, with a small smile attached to his lips, was about to interject, but Darling found her voice. Though she had to tamp down several less-than-pleasant responses.

“Deputy Arrington, this is Oliver Quinn,” she said, standing. “We used to make out in my father's Ferrari.” Derrick raised his eyebrow before looking at Oliver.

“What can I say? Fast cars and pretty girls equal a winning combo in my book,” Oliver shot back with an easy laugh. It was not the response she had expected, but Derrick thought it was funny enough. When Darling didn't show signs of joining in on their shared mirth, the deputy sobered.

“Do you want me to stay down here during the questions?” Derrick asked her directly. They might not have had the best romantic relationship, but they did consider each other friends.

“I can handle this one,” she answered. It earned another little laugh from Oliver.

“When you're satisfied she isn't a threat, let me know,” Derrick said, turning to leave.

“She isn't a threat. You can let her out now.” Oliver moved aside and motioned to the lock. Derrick and Darling exchanged a confused glance.

“You don't want to question her?” Derrick asked.

“I do, but unfortunately, I have to get back to work.” He looked at her. “I was thinking we could pick this up tonight?”

Alarm bells as loud as the Monday-morning trash pickup rang in her head.

“Like on a date?” she blurted, heat rushing to her cheeks.

Oliver gave off another short laugh. “More like catching up with a few pointed questions concerning my client,” he said. Then, when she was about to decline fiercely, he added, “I need to make sure I was correct in saying you aren't a risk. If you are, my client will press charges.”

Both men looked at her, waiting for an answer.

If Oliver was the only thing that kept her from receiving the potential wrath of Nigel Marks, she'd have to take up his offer. She sighed, thinking about her bad luck so far on this case.

“Fine, but you're buying.”

Oliver produced a business card as Derrick opened the cell door. He handed it to Darling, never dropping his grin.

“Would it be okay to stop by your office around seven?” he asked.

“Do I have a choice?” she replied with one of her sweet, yet not sweet at all, smiles.

“Of course you do, but it might be better if we could have that dinner.”

“Then I guess that's what will happen.”

The three of them went back upstairs. Oliver the Bodyguard didn't even hesitate to get into his car and leave, while Darling got into her car that had been brought to the station. She sat in the driver's seat, trying to process all of what had happened in the past ten minutes. Fate? Coincidence? A cruel joke? She couldn't decide which category her situation fell into.

She might have kept wondering had her phone not buzzed with a text she had been hoping to receive. Looking at the caller ID, she couldn't help but feel better.

Darling pulled up to the Mulligan Motel a few minutes later with excitement coursing through her. Her caller was Dan Morelli, a transplant from New Jersey and the owner of the less-than-ideal motel. There was a Holiday Inn fifteen minutes south of Mulligan, but those who participated in not-so-legal extracurricular activities often stayed at the Mulligan Motel.

Or people who wanted to meet someone in secret.

“Hey, Dan,” Darling greeted him, walking into the lobby with her camera swinging around her neck. Dan had been a valuable contact throughout the past few years, keeping an eye out for certain persons Darling had cases on. Though since she had tried to stay away from the dirty-laundry spectrum of stereotypical private-eye jobs, she hadn't seen him in a good few months. She'd paid him in cookies, movie rentals and the promise of an exciting bust in the past. There wasn't much else to do in Mulligan for a man who hated the cold. Plus, he'd confessed once that Darling reminded him of his little sister, which apparently worked in her favor.

Dan didn't look up from his paper when she stepped inside.

“Room 212,” he responded, intent on his crossword. “And you figured that out all on your own.”

“Of course I did. You know nothing—everyone knows that, Dan.”

He laughed but didn't say anything more. Darling went behind the desk and grabbed the key with the chain marked 212. Some people might have felt guilty for what she was doing, but Darling could justify it easily enough. Nigel Marks had spent a few hours in the Mulligan Motel's room 212 last night. And what's more, he hadn't been alone. The millionaire had left while the sky was still dark, but his mistress hadn't checked out yet. It was time Darling paid a visit.

She walked up the stairs and down the length of the second floor until she came to a stop at the last door. A TV could be heard on the other side, but no voices. Darling, using a method her former boss had applied in the field before, adopted a high-pitched voice and knocked.

“Room service,” she sang. There was a Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob. If she kept nagging, the woman would answer, annoyed yet visible. Then Darling would do what she did best and question or trick her into confessing. Who needed pictures when the mistress would admit publically to the affair? Sure, it was a little brash of her and maybe not what she would have done under normal circumstances, but she felt oddly off-kilter after seeing Oliver. Even though they'd barely had a conversation.

She knocked a few more times and waited.

And waited.

“Room service. I'm coming in,” she sang again in a lower voice. She slid the key into the lock and turned, an excuse for her intrusion ready on her tongue.

But no one yelped in surprise or yelled in anger. Aside from the TV, the room was still and spotless. Maybe Dan had gotten it wrong, Darling thought. There was no luggage or bags of any kind, the trashcans were empty and all the lights were off. She walked past the two double beds and peeked into the bathroom, hoping for some kind of clue that would prove Nigel Marks's mistress had been there.

However, the proof she found was more than she had bargained for.

Lying in the bathtub was a woman wrapped up in the shower curtain. Blood was everywhere.

Chapter Two

“And you're sure she won't be a problem?” Nikki asked after Oliver more or less summed up his visit to the police station. He had admitted to knowing Darling, just not
how
he knew her.

“I'm sure. She was just curious, that's all,” he said for the third time. Nikki might not have been fond of taking on Nigel Marks as a client, but now that he was under contract, she was going to make sure nothing bad happened. “Listen, I don't blame her. This place is impressive. I'd have done the same thing. If it makes you feel better, I'm catching up with her when Thomas and Grant relieve me tonight. I'll bring it up again and if she lies to me, I'll catch it.”

“Well, just try not to tick off the long-winded gate guard, George, while you're there. I'd really like to avoid talking to him again.”

Oliver agreed and they ended the call. He looked through the window to the gatehouse down below. George Hanely had been like a kid on Christmas as he recounted the story of how he had saved the Markses' home from the more-than-suspicious private investigator. Oliver had been at Nigel Marks's home for less than ten minutes, and in that time he had watched George reenact what had happened.

He had led Oliver from his post in the small one-room, half-bathroom house that sat at the front of the drive around to the garage. It, like the house, was large. It could easily fit several cars. Darling had been spotted next to the side door. Her story of just being close to the gate that surrounded the property was hard to believe. The iron gate was a good forty to fifty yards away. If she had been trying to get back over the fence, then why come so close to the garage?

Oliver could guess the answer. She was trying to get
into
the garage. But why?

Ever since he had seen Darling, he had been assuming that she was still the same girl he'd known before. The fact that she was in jail to start off with had proven the opposite. And a private investigator?

He smiled to himself.
That
he could believe. Darling had loved the challenge of a good mystery.

He remembered the first time he'd met her. She had been butt up in a Dumpster behind an office complex, rooting around in discarded papers and files. At the time he'd assumed it was a part of some weird bet. She hadn't looked homeless with her designer clothes and perfectly manicured nails. Then, when she found exactly what she didn't want to find, she had opened up in a burst of emotion to the nineteen-year-old him. Her world wasn't over, but it had changed. Through the next few months the once-spoiled, once-naive teenager transformed into a thoughtful, compassionate young woman. The people around her hadn't appreciated the changed Darling, and slowly she had become isolated. Oliver, however, had formed a bond with her, staying by her side until...

Self-loathing pulsed through him at the memory of the last night he'd seen her.
Time can heal all wounds, but seeing the girl whose heart you shattered only breaks out the salt and pours it into the gashe
s, he thought with a frown.

Seeing her after all those years had been a shock to his system. One he wasn't sure was entirely good or entirely bad. As he tried to clear his mind, he marveled at the fact that he still felt so strongly about what had happened almost a decade ago.

Oliver left the guest bedroom Nigel had assigned to him and started to go through each room of the house. He checked windows, catalogued all exits and got his bearings of the Markses' second home. Its large size didn't surprise him in the least.

After finishing his sweep, he made his way back over to the gatehouse. George, a slight man in his thirties with dark hair and a pasty complexion, could barely keep his excitement at bay at having someone to talk to. Oliver didn't blame the man one bit. Even though Nigel Marks hadn't been at his house in years, it was still George's job to watch the gate daily. If it had been Oliver's job, he would have hated it. However, George seemed to take pride in his tasks, and Oliver spied a movie player and several movies under the front desk, which must have made sitting in one room day in and day out a little more bearable.

“So, have you ever met Mr. Marks in person?” George asked when Oliver was satisfied with each part of the property. Aside from the gatehouse, garage and house, there was nothing but open land surrounding the acres the Markses owned.

“No,” Oliver admitted. “My boss handles the client interactions before the contract start date,” he explained. “Do you see him often? I was under the impression he didn't come visit much.”

George shrugged. “He calls to check in from time to time and ask about things,” he said. Oliver noticed the gate guard puffed his chest out a bit. “I keep him informed on what's going on in Mulligan.” There was no mistaking that George definitely took pride in working for Nigel. Oliver could respect that, even if he wondered what kind of social life the guard was left with after the hours he worked. Having a good boss was an absolute must for Oliver, especially after the nightmare of what had happened with his last. “That's how I knew that woman was up to no good.”

They had just stepped outside the gatehouse and were facing the private drive. It wasn't as cold as the Montana case had been, but there was a chill in the air that moved with the breeze. Oliver tilted his head as another gust pushed against his clean-shaven face, and he thought about his next words carefully before speaking.

“You mean the private investigator? She seemed harmless enough,” he said, not believing himself as he said it.

George snorted. “Private investigator. Yeah, that sounds a lot better than what she really does.”

Oliver raised his eyebrow. “What does she really do?”

“Sneak around, break the law and ruin lives. Just like the rat of a man she got her office from,” he explained with a surge of anger.

“From what I could tell Derrick seemed to like her,” Oliver added.

“Deputy Derrick and her are close, if you know what I mean.”

A quick burst of jealousy flashed through Oliver. The idea that Darling was with someone romantically hadn't yet breached his thoughts. Not that it should matter either way.

“And as for the chief, he's one of many people here that have fallen for her charms. If you ask me, she uses her looks to get what she wants. It's repulsive. She should be using her time better, you know? Get married, have some kids.”

Oliver's brief jealousy turned to a not-so-brief anger. It was true he couldn't claim to know this new, older version of Darling the same way he had known the younger one, but he seriously doubted she was this repulsive person George was claiming. He was about to set the man straight when his cell phone beeped.

“They're almost here,” Oliver said instead. “I want you to call me if anyone other than my team and Nigel comes to this gate. No matter the time. Are we clear?”

George straightened his back and almost looked as if he was ready to salute. “Yes, sir,” he barked.

Within minutes a black SUV came up the drive, followed by a sleek silver two-door Audi. Originally, Nigel was supposed to be escorted from his home in California to Mulligan, but a week ago he had changed this detail, much to Nikki's frustration. He had spent two days in the neighboring city, working to put out business-related fires due to his company's newest merger while he stayed at a four-star hotel less than a block from that branch of Charisma Investments. The other two members of Team Delta had been ordered to pick Nigel up that morning, officially starting their contract time frame.

Oliver nodded to Thomas Gage, Orion's newest recruit, as he rolled down the SUV's tinted driver's side window just before the gate. His build was on the lean side, with narrow shoulders and arms toned but not as built as the rest of Team Delta. He had light brown skin, dark hair and bright blue eyes that Nikki had commented on more than once. Thomas never sported facial hair, and that decision often got him mistaken for younger than twenty-five. This was his third job as a Delta agent. Oliver liked his humor and lingering innocence.

“Hey there, Boss,” Thomas greeted Oliver with a smile. He motioned to the backseat, where Nigel Marks sat with a laptop on his lap and a phone to his ear. He looked up and gave a quick wave before turning his attention back to his work. “He had an emergency call that couldn't wait,” Thomas explained.

Oliver motioned through the gatehouse window for George to open the gate. George didn't hesitate, and Thomas moved the SUV the rest of the way up the drive, parking in front of one of the garage doors. Grant Blakely arrived next, driving Nigel's high-end rental. He was already grinning as he paused next to Oliver.

“This assignment may not completely suck after all, especially if we get to play with his toys,” he said as soon as the window was down. He petted the dashboard.

Oliver chuckled. He missed working with his old team of Jonathan and Mark, but he had grown fond of Grant. The thirty-four-year-old was the epitome of intimidating without even trying. Tall, wide and thick with muscles, the dark-skinned bodyguard never looked as if he couldn't win in a fight.

“Just wait until you see the house,” Oliver said. “Any problems getting here?”

“No, sir. It's about a thirty-minute commute with no traffic. How about on your end? Did you deal with the private eye?”

“The threat wasn't as threatening as we thought, but just to make sure, I'm going to ask a few more questions after my shift.” Grant nodded, and Oliver once again told George to open the gate.

“The man driving Nigel is Thomas, and the one in the Audi is Grant,” Oliver explained to George. “You have all our numbers. Don't hesitate to use them if you need to. At all times there will be two of us with Nigel.”

George took the three cards with their numbers and put them in his pocket. Although he said he understood, Oliver could tell his attention had moved toward the cars, where his true boss had just exited.

Nigel Marks was over six foot, of average size and dressed in a proper suit. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped close to his head, with a pair of reading glasses resting on top. The file Oliver had been given said Nigel was fifty-three, though he looked years younger. The file also said he was an avid runner, competing in marathons and triathlons in his spare time. That would account for the toned body his suit did little to hide. As Oliver approached, Nigel ended his call and extended his hand.

“Sorry about that,” Nigel said with a smile. “This merger has made everyone forget how to do their jobs. You must be Mr. Quinn.”

Oliver shook. “Call me Oliver.”

“It's nice to meet you, Oliver. Nikki spoke very highly of you and your team. Hopefully you won't get too bored on this job.”

“It's a good sign when a job stays boring,” Oliver replied.

Nigel seemed to consider this and laughed. “I suppose you're right. Well...” Nigel waved to his house as Grant and Thomas joined them. “As I told Nikki, feel free to treat this as your home while here. There are no off-limits areas, but I do ask my office be left alone unless I'm with you. I have a feeling that my free time will be spent in there.” He paused as his phone rang. His pleasant mood seemed to slide away in an instant. Replacing it was the look of a tired man. “My work is never done.”

* * *

D
ARLING
FELT
AS
if she was frozen yet couldn't stop everything around her from moving. It wasn't until her vision started to tunnel that she realized she was about to pass out. With a quick dose of good sense, she backed out of the bathroom and crouched, flinging her head down between her legs. In the moment she couldn't remember why that stopped a person from fainting, but she knew she needed to try it nonetheless.

So there she was, crouched just outside of room 212's bathroom and its body in the tub, trying to calm her stampeding heartbeat and erratic breathing.

This case was nothing but bad, bad luck.

A car door shut in the parking lot some time later. Whether it was seconds or minutes, she wasn't sure. The room hadn't been the only aspect of her reality that had warped when she had seen the body. However, instead of sending her into a bigger fit of worries, the sound of the outside world started to make her focus.

She took two deep breaths and slowly righted herself. The camera around her neck slapped against her chest, reminding her of the reason she had been there in the first place.

Nigel Marks and his mistress had been in this room the night before. He had gone, but his mistress hadn't checked out. It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to guess it was her unfortunate fate that she was the one wrapped up in the tub. Darling knew she had to call the police, just as she knew that once she left the room, she'd never be allowed back in.

At the moment, it was a thought that didn't sit right with her. So, blaming the impulse on her desire to solve mysteries, even ones seemingly cut and dried, she took her camera from her neck and walked back to the bathroom doorway. With hands she let shake, she snapped a few pictures of the bathroom and its deceased guest before she turned back and took a few of the bedroom. Another car door slammed shut in the distance. She glanced once more toward the bathroom.

Darling felt a mixture of anger and sadness pull at her heart. Nigel Marks might be a powerful man in the business world, but by killing this woman, he had unwittingly stepped inside Darling's domain.

Darling hurried to the main office and was thankful that Dan was still alone. He didn't look up when she came in, he just raised his hands.

“I know nothing,” he said, still in a bubble of humor. It was a bubble she was about to pop.

“Dan, you need to call the police. There's a dead body in room 212.”

Dan laughed, thinking it was a joke until he finally met her eyes. Darling figured she must have looked as serious as the situation was. She watched his face and mood sober.