Bodyguard Daddy (12 page)

“The best.”

“She’s in the highest rated facility that would accept someone who’s killed.”

Chekov nodded. “But the best shrink isn’t there. I have someone I want her to see. I’ll pay for the doctor’s services. I just need for you to authorize the visits.”

“I’ll have to check him out,” Nick said. And make sure it wasn’t someone Chekov had hired to help his daughter escape.

“Her,” Chekov said. “I think that’s Tori’s problem. She never had a mother figure in her life.”

Nick hadn’t had a real mother figure. And he’d had no father at all, at least not that he’d known about, but he hadn’t become a killer. He refrained from pointing that out, though. “I’ll check her out, then.”

“So you’ll consider it?”

He nodded.

“Are you here about the Ghost again?”

Nick moved his head in another nod. Last time Chekov had conceded to give him a description of the man, since the only mug shot taken of the guy had been during an arrest in his adolescence. That was how Nick had recognized him as the driver of the sedan following Amber’s minivan.

“You won’t find him,” Chekov warned him. “He’s called the Ghost for a reason.”

“I know where he is,” Nick said.

Chekov arched a gray brow. “If that were so, I doubt you would have bothered with this little visit of ours.”

“He’s in River City,” Nick said.

Chekov sucked in a breath. “He’s come back?”

“He tried to kill Milek Kozminski today.”

“Milek?” Chekov asked, and both brows arched with his surprise. “I could understand someone hiring a hit on Garek. But Milek...”

He was the good brother. The nice brother. Everyone still thought he was a criminal and a killer, but they liked him. No one didn’t.

“You don’t know why someone would want him dead?”

Chekov shook his head.

Nick voiced Milek’s theory aloud. “Would Campanelli kill him just to get him out of his way?”

Chekov laughed at the thought. “The Ghost won’t kill anyone for free.”

That was what Nick had thought. Someone else wanted Milek dead. Amber?

“What do you know about the hit on the DA?”

“You asked me that before,” Chekov said.

Solving that case was even more important to Nick than taking down Chekov had been. The crime boss had been curiously reluctant to talk about it, though.

“But we have a deal now,” Nick reminded him.

“And my answer hasn’t changed.”

“You really don’t know anything about Schievink?”

“I didn’t say that,” Chekov replied. “I just don’t know who ordered the hit.”

Maybe Nick had failed to ask the right questions the last time they’d talked. “What do you know about Schievink?”

“He was an ambitious man.”

“Corrupt?”

“He was an ambitious man,” Chekov repeated. “Ambitious men will often do whatever it takes to get ahead.” He would know. The man had had no compunction about killing to get what he’d wanted. Neither had his daughter.

“And Amber Talsma?” Nick asked. “How ambitious is she?” According to the interim DA, even more ambitious than Schievink had been.

Chekov shrugged. “Like I told you last time, I don’t know that name.”

“Schievink’s assistant,” Nick said. “The one who worked with him the most.” Her former colleague had had suspicions about why Amber had been given all the best cases.

“The redheaded lawyer?”

Nick nodded.

“I heard Schievink was doing her, too.” So even he had heard the rumors.

“What else had you heard about her?” Nick asked. “Was she corrupt?”

He shrugged. “If they were as close as everyone thinks they were, wouldn’t she be?” Chekov asked. “Why else would she have looked the other way?”

Nick had nearly let Milek get to him earlier that day—with his rational defense of Amber. Of course she wouldn’t have willingly put her own son in danger. Even men like Chekov cared about their kids.

But Amber wasn’t as innocent as Milek thought she was. So Nick had been right to warn his new friend. He didn’t want the guy risking his life or his heart on a woman who couldn’t be trusted.

* * *

“Do you believe it?” she asked.

Milek glanced up from his son’s bed. He’d just tucked in the little boy after spending most of the day playing with him. “I know I’m his father.” Gregory claiming her baby as his had given him momentary doubts, though. Just as Rus had tried to do earlier. But after the baby had been born, Milek had gotten a look at him, and he’d known.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t talking about Michael.”

He rose from his crouch next to the boy’s bed and barely resisted patting his head. He wanted to—but he didn’t want to risk waking the boy. It had been a long day for him—of reacquainting himself with Aunt Stacy and getting to know Uncle Garek. His son still didn’t know what to call him.

Still didn’t know that Milek was his father.

Because he didn’t want to wake the boy, he waited to speak until they’d left his room. Exhausted from his sleepless night, he dropped onto the couch. He would sleep there tonight. He wouldn’t risk making love with her again—wouldn’t risk falling for her again.

“We need to talk about Michael,” Milek said. That conversation was five years overdue. It had been easier to believe Schievink, to accept her baby was her boss’s rather than acknowledge his own paternity—even after he’d seen the child. Despite knowing the truth, he’d tried to deny it. He wasn’t any more cut out to be a father than his father had been. Hell, he was worse. Patek Kozminski hadn’t really ever killed anyone. Like Garek, he’d gone to prison for a crime he hadn’t committed.

She nodded. “Yes, we do. But I want to talk about what your brother said—that I’m a suspect in Gregory’s death. Do you believe it?”

“No.” Despite Rus’s efforts, he had no doubts.

She studied his face, though, as if searching for suspicion. “But you believe the rest of the rumors—that we were involved?”

His stomach began to churn with the jealousy that had eaten away at it five years ago. “Yes.”

“How could you?” she asked. “You—of all people—should know better than to listen to gossip. With everything said about your family, you should have no use for rumors.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I heard it directly from the horse’s mouth.”

“I never told you...” Her eyes widened with shock as realization dawned. “Oh...”

“Yup,” he said. “Good ole Gregory told me the two of you were in love, but he couldn’t leave his wife yet.”

“Is—is that why you broke our engagement?” she asked. “How could you believe him? How could you think that I would cheat on you? Did you know me at all?”

He’d known her. But he’d known himself better. And he hadn’t trusted he wouldn’t hurt her even more eventually—if he stayed with her. “Schievink didn’t tell me that until after we’d broken up.” That was when he’d summoned Milek to his fancy mansion—to show him everything he could offer Amber.

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand why he would lie to you.”

He could have told her what Schievink had said before the breakup, pointing out how her association with the Kozminskis would damage her career. But that had been the truth. Amber had just brought up all the horrible rumors herself. “He knew you’d told me you were pregnant, and he wanted me to know the baby was his.”

With a hissing sound, her breath slipped out between her lips. “That son of a bitch,” she said. “If I’d known that, I may have hired someone to kill him.”

He chuckled at her reaction. Rus didn’t know her at all.

Then she tilted her head as she stared at him. And he saw the suspicion in her narrowed green eyes. He was so glad she’d stopped wearing the contacts. But she didn’t need a disguise anymore. Everyone knew she was alive—especially whoever wanted to kill her.

He shook his head. “If I’d wanted Schievink dead, I wouldn’t have waited five years to do it.” But he had momentarily lost his temper that day when he’d struck the man. Gregory had used that lapse of control against Milek, to point out that he was dangerous—too dangerous to be around Amber and her child.

“I wish you’d told me what he said.”

He shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

“You really thought I was involved with him?”

“What reason would he have had to lie?” Milek asked. “Married men usually don’t go around admitting to affairs at all. But why would he admit to one he wasn’t even having?”

Her face grew pale, and she trembled slightly. “You don’t believe me.”

He didn’t want to believe her; he wanted a reason to keep his distance—at least emotionally—from her. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he said. “For the past year I thought you and our son were dead, but that was all a lie, too.”

“You know why...”

Because she’d been scared and she hadn’t thought he would help her. He’d pushed her away five years ago so well that it could have cost her and their son their lives. If Campanelli had gone after them sooner...

Before Milek had learned the truth.

He wanted to stand up, wanted to close his arms around her and give her the comfort they both needed. But he knew he’d wind up making love to her again. “I need to sleep.” He said it to convince himself more than her.

“I thought you wanted to talk about Michael,” she said.

He did. He wanted to figure out what to tell his son—what she wanted to tell their son. Michael obviously didn’t know Milek was his father. He wanted to tell him. But was that fair? What kind of father would Milek be?

Not the one the boy deserved.

He shook his head. “Not yet...”

“You’re tired,” she said, as if excusing his reluctance. “You can take your bed.”

“No.” He pointed at the door. “I need to be out here—in case someone tries to get in.” And he wasn’t talking about his family.

Frank Campanelli had stepped up his attacks. He was bound to try again. Soon.

No. Milek probably wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

Chapter 10

P
eople had been in and out of the condo all day. Bodyguards. Paynes. Kozminskis. They spoke to Milek and played with Michael. But barely any of them acknowledged Amber.

It was as if she was still dead. Or invisible. She sucked in a breath and pushed aside the self-pity. If none of them could understand why she’d done what she had...

Or if, worse yet, they thought she’d been involved with Gregory and with his death...

Then she didn’t need them. But when the door opened to Stacy, her heart ached for the friendship she had lost. Logan was with her, standing behind her and telling her, “This is a bad idea.”

Apparently there was a lot of that going around—not that she and Milek had had a bad idea since that first night.

“It’s too dangerous,” Logan persisted.

“With all the bodyguards around this place,” Stacy said, “it’s the safest place for your daughter and me to be.” And she reached back and took a little girl from Logan’s arms.

Her biggest regret in leaving was that she hadn’t been able to see Stacy through her pregnancy—to be there with her through the pain and the joy. She wanted to see the little bundle of joy.

The little girl was in a furry pink snowsuit. Only her face with chubby red cheeks was visible. Amber gasped. “She’s beautiful...”

And for a moment, Stacy softened and smiled at her. But then her smile faded as if she forced herself to remember she was mad.

Amber could handle everyone else ignoring her. But not Stacy...

“Will you talk to me?” she asked.

Stacy glanced back at her husband, as if asking him to rescue her from the discomfort. But he only took his daughter back from her hands.

“I’ll get her out of the snowsuit,” he offered.

“Who’s that?” Michael asked as he came out of his bedroom to greet the new guests. He’d settled very well into Milek’s condo. Maybe too well. They hadn’t had that talk about their son yet.

But Milek played with the boy every chance he got—when he wasn’t busy poring over old police reports with Logan or Agent Rus.

“This is your cousin,” Stacy told him. “You can help Uncle Logan get little Penny out of her suit.”

Michael’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “She’s not wearing a suit.”

“Snowsuit,” Logan explained as he carried the baby over to the couch. Fascinated with the little pink bundle, Michael followed closely behind him.

And Stacy followed Amber to the master bedroom. Not knowing how emotional they might get, Amber closed the door. She didn’t want her son to see her cry. For the past year she’d waited until he was asleep before she’d wept for all they’d left behind.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I thought I was doing the right thing when I had Agent Rus fake my and Michael’s deaths.”

Stacy released a shuddery little breath. She said nothing, though.

“But most of all I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Amber continued, “when you had your little girl.”

Tears shimmered in Stacy’s gray eyes.

Tears stung Amber’s eyes, too. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

Stacy stared at her for a long moment before giving her a slow and almost reluctant nod. “I think I was angrier at you when you died than I am now.”

Amber sucked in a breath as a pain jabbed her heart. “Ouch.”

“I was angry at the position you’d put me in,” Stacy said. “I was upset at myself for keeping Michael a secret from my brother. I never should have let you put me in that position—in the middle.”

“Milek didn’t want me,” she reminded his sister. And except for that first night, he hadn’t wanted her again. He slept on the couch in the living room—presumably to protect her. But she suspected he was protecting himself. “I didn’t want to trap him.”

But she had told him.

“He wouldn’t have had to marry you,” Stacy said. “But he could have been a part of his child’s life. You shouldn’t have denied him that.”

“She didn’t,” Milek said as he stepped inside the bedroom with them. He glanced back at their son sitting on the couch playing with his little cousin before he closed the door again. “She told me. And I didn’t believe her.”

Stacy gasped. Then she reached out and smacked his shoulder with her hand. “That’s horrible!” She turned on Amber. “And you lied to me.”