Hard to Hold (6 page)

Abruptly, he halted midprowl, turned, and jabbed a finger at her. “You’re doing something
to fuel his twisted psychosis. But what? It can’t be the pregnancy. The gifts imply
he’s rather pleased about that.”

He had started pacing again, the clipped sound of his tread fraying her last nerve.
Her bones might feel brittle, but if he didn’t settle down, she’d break a limb to
throw something heavy at his head.

“It’s almost like there’s two different people after Anna,” Will murmured.

Again he pulled to a halt, only this time he spun to face Will. “Sonofabitch! The
conflicting behavior makes sense if that’s true. Two perps, both with a hard-on for
her, one all loved up, the other consumed with hate and fury.”

She flexed her tongue and whistled shrilly—a skill Nick had taught her—to get his
full attention back on her. “There you go again with your hateful assumptions. I’m
willing to accept I might
inadvertently
have attracted the attention of one psycho but not two.”

“I’m rarely wrong and never about you.” She’d gotten her wish; he’d turned and now
gave her his full attention. “So let’s have it, Anna. Who’s the father, because I’m
damn sure he’s the link in all this?”

His eyes no longer held derision. Instead they chilled and fixed her in place, reminding
her of the time he’d taken her to the Arctic for Christmas. A wonderful surprise she’d
ruined when curiosity got the better of her, and she’d fastened her naked hand round
a metal pole to see if the warning she’d stick fast was true. She had and, much to
Nick’s frustration, the medics accompanying them got to spend more time touching her
than he had.

Her palms instantly grew clammy. She rubbed them up and down her thighs. Testing the
truth and feeding her curiosity always seemed to lead to disaster, which is why, for
once in her life, she’d resisted digging for the identify of her baby’s father.

“I don’t know, Nick. That’s the point of an anonymous sperm donation.”

“Uh-uh. You’d never settle for that, Anna. With your computer skills, you’d have hacked
into the records for his identity.”

“Except I didn’t, because I don’t want to know who the father is.”

He was right. She had been tempted, but seeing the name in black and white would have
been akin to acknowledging her baby had a flesh-and-blood father who might make a
claim. Ignorance was bliss. It meant the child was hers and hers alone.

“I. Don’t. Believe. You.”

“Nick,” Will intervened quietly. “I’m not sure calling her a liar is the most effective
way of getting the information you want.”

Anna kept quiet while the two men exchanged glares. Nick’s furious, Will’s unrepentant.
She didn’t doubt she looked guilty but not for the reason Nick thought. Her baby was
in danger, and she wasn’t convinced she could protect it. Not on her own.

A familiar, black sense of failure and inadequacy surged before she could contain
it. When all was said and done, she was, and always would be, alone. No one had ever
wanted her for keeps. Not even Nick.

She shut her eyes and massaged her temples with the heels of her hands. She wouldn’t
enter that emotional horror, not again.

“Anna, you okay?”

The concern in Nick’s voice tore her heart in two. It would be so easy to hand this
whole damn mess over to him. He’d sort it. He always had. But the price of the emotional
debt he’d call in afterward would bankrupt her. “Just…tired,” she muttered wearily,
opening her eyes. “Please, can I go now?”

“All right, on one condition. You stay home until we work out what the hell is going
on, and you alert me the next time a gift arrives.”

“Or?”

“Or, by God, I’ll be back, and tonight’s little interrogation will seem like a stroll
in the park.”

She leapt from the sofa and advanced on him until they were toe-to-toe. “Thanks for
the warning, Nick. Now here’s one for you. I’ve got a company to run and a diary chock-full
of appointments to keep. I meant it when I said I’d go to the press if necessary.
So back off and make sure you take Fortress with you. And don’t even think about getting
the Service involved, because right now, I’d have to be mad to trust an organization
that prefers to employ only those born to kill.”

She spun on her heel, then made her way to her front door, opened it, and held it
wide, her message clear, though she kept her head down.

It had to be Nick rather than Will who paused beside her. With a finger beneath her
chin, he encouraged her head upward. Her eyes clashing with steely-blue ones, which
oddly, weren’t as condemning as usual. Instead, they were almost sympathetic, like
he remembered how fiercely she defended her independence and how hard she found it
to compromise.

“You’ve never won a fight against me yet, Anna. I want you safe. And I don’t want
the Service involved any more than you do, but I’m still putting two Fortress men
up here on the landing, so don’t give them merry hell in the morning, okay? They’ll
just be following orders.”

He dipped his head. His lips brushed her brow.

If his intent had been to completely disarm her so she wouldn’t fight him about the
protection, he’d succeeded. The tight smile she attempted caved into a painful gulp.
No way was she crying in front of him. Not this time. Hands flat on his chest, she
pushed Nick across her threshold and slammed the door in his face, throwing the dead
bolts for good measure. With her defenses completely routed, rudeness worked for her.

Her back against the door, she yanked up the hem of her T-shirt and dabbed her eyes
before any tears could spill. She didn’t have time for an emotional tsunami. Nick
was right. She needed the identity of her baby’s father.

Releasing the breath trapped in her chest, she kicked free her high heels and, ignoring
her laptop, padded over to her powerful computer console instead. She didn’t pull
up a chair. This hacking session would be one she’d do upright. To remind herself
she was more than capable of standing on her own two feet.

Accessing the clinic’s mainframe was ridiculously easy. Opening the confidential files,
her own included, wasn’t. Her fingertips burned from the speed with which she had
to feed the clinic’s system strings of code to circumvent the incessant demand for
passwords and user IDs.

Four hours into a marathon of dancing past traps and triggers that would have seen
most programmers tossed out on their ass, and finally, finally, the screen blacked
out, leaving only her name flashing green in the top left-hand corner. She was in.

Lifting her cramping fingers from the keyboard, her hands so stiff they’d locked into
claw position, she hesitated. One single click on the return key, and she’d learn
the identity of the man who’d fathered her baby.

A tingle—not a pleasant one—ran the length of her spine. Her taste buds shriveled
at the sudden sourness drying her mouth. Slowly flexing her forefinger, she leaned
forward and jabbed a key, then leaped back.

The screen flickered, twice, three times, maybe five, before settling into silent
snowstorm mode, angry swarms of black dots like tormented ants fracturing a total
whiteout. Jesus, someone had wiped her from the system. Not just wiped—she could have
traced a simple erasure and reinstalled the files. They’d obliterated her, sending
in a Trojan to gobble all trace of her existence.

What the hell had she gotten herself and her baby into?

…

In the two weeks since she’d thrown Nick out of her apartment, the anonymous gifts
had stopped as abruptly as they had started, and there’d been no further acts of violence
against her. Probably because Nick had refused to order her security detail to stand
down. She’d repaid his stubbornness by carrying on life as normal, just as she’d promised,
working late into the night and keeping every damned meeting in her diary. Even when
morning sickness gripped and all she really wanted to do was curl up in a darkened
room and hug misery.

And today’s lunch appointment was no different.

She had thought she was meeting with a potential investor, since he’d introduced himself
on the phone as a venture capitalist. But though lunch was pleasant enough, Niva Antila,
the Finn plying her with the finest food London had to offer, could not have cared
less about
Hinterland Heroes.
On the other hand, he seemed remarkably interested in her as a woman, which was nothing
out of the ordinary. She’d always attracted male attention—even more so since her
staggering commercial success—and she’d become adept at the polite brush-off.

At the end of the meal, Antila put down his fork. “It’s a beautiful afternoon. Would
you like to take a drive and continue our conversation?”

No. She’d rather force matches under her nails and light them. “Thank you, Mr. Antila,
but I’m afraid I have to get back to the office,” she declined with what she hoped
was a polite, regretful smile as she lay aside the heavy damask napkin.

“It’s Niva, not Mr. Antila, as I have repeatedly corrected you…”

She tuned him out, his need to reprimand reminding her too much of Nick. She caught
the maître d’s eye and silently pleaded with the man to hurry up and bring the bill.
And then had to bite her lip to catch a giggle when the man shot her a knowing wink.

“…and you have no appointments this afternoon. I checked. There is a matter about
which we must speak. If not a drive, how about a stroll through the gardens? They
are very private, so we won’t be disturbed by those rather irritating men you have
following you.”

For a moment she couldn’t swallow. Damn Nick for his interference, and damn this man
for the sheer nerve of ferreting around in her private business. “What men?” she asked
cautiously, curious as to learn how he could possibly have made her security detail.
Fortress wasn’t just good—they were the best.

Her skin prickled. There was definitely something off about the man. Beneath the debonair
facade of silk shirt and immaculately tailored blue linen suit—which she suspected
would not dare crease—beat the heart of an utterly ruthless street fighter, she was
sure of it. And although Niva Antila was elegantly Nordic and unarguably handsome,
the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stood to attention, and not in a good way.

“The ones your ex-husband assigned to watch over you, of course. Come, let’s walk.”

The phrase “too stupid to live” flashed through her mind. Had she just become one
of those women who’d walked willingly to their doom?

She quickly scanned the restaurant. A few straggling diners occupied tables, and there
were plenty of front-of-house staff still milling about. She’d be safe, she decided,
getting to her feet. The gardens couldn’t be that extensive. Besides, she had a foghorn
of a scream. And although she intended to put this man fully in his place, she’d never
had the stomach for humiliating someone in front of an audience.

She picked up her pace while threading a route to the French doors opening into the
gardens. Antila, with his hand at the small of her back, might think it a common courtesy
to guide her, but frankly, her skin screamed at his touch, and she’d never allowed
any man to steer her. Not even Nick.

“Two things bother me, Antila,” she said pulling to a halt in the middle of the manicured
lawn, well away from all shrubbery. “How do you know men are following me? And how
can you possibly know enough about my ex-husband to guess he is responsible?”

“Because I make it my business to know everything, especially where you are concerned.”

His compliments, accent, and inflection were beginning to grate on her nerves. Niva
Antila was too smooth for words, suave, keenly intelligent but a little too…well,
slippery.

“I’d be flattered, if that didn’t completely creep me out. What exactly is your business?
And please don’t give me any more crap about being a venture capitalist.”

Though his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, Antila suddenly looked decidedly
pleased with himself. “I chose well. Your reputation for being both smart and indomitable
is more than accurate. Even beyond your looks, you please me greatly.”

She frowned. “Glad I could oblige, but forget creeped out; now I feel sick. May I
suggest you ‘choose’ again, this time someone else? I’ve sworn off relationships.”

Antila’s lips thinned into a tight, smug smile, reminding her of a lizard that had
just caught and swallowed an insect. “Good, I don’t need the added complication, though
never doubt that I would deal with it.”

Unease snaked her spine; goose bumps pebbled her skin. Neither stopped her raising
her chin. “Now you sound positively unpleasant. Shall we return to the restaurant,
Antila? I don’t respond well to threats.”

“No, you take them in your stride, which is not only foolish but most frustrating.
How many warnings do you need, Anna, before you will accept you are in grave danger?”

Her stomach gave a warning heave. She almost gagged. But she refused to retreat. “What’s
your interest?”

The Finn pushed his sunglasses down his nose and stared at her across the top of them,
the flat absence of any life in his eyes numbing her soul. “My son and heir, whom
you currently carry in your womb.”

Chapter Five

“No…No…No.” Anna covered her ears. She wanted no part of this man inside her, not
even his words. “The sperm donation is supposed to be anonymous…”

She felt like she was teetering helplessly on the edge of a vast body of dark water,
its depths unfathomable. Hungry to drag her down. Down and farther down. Water. Drowning.
She’d been phobic since a child, when she’d been held beneath the surface of a pond
by a foster father looking to teach her a lesson in obedience.

Dots danced before her eyes. Instinctively, she reached for something solid. Bloody
Antila was closest.

“You need to sit; there is a place over there.”

With her legs threatening to fold and her world spinning drunk, she had no choice
but to let the man she’d never wanted to know, let alone conceive a child with, lead
her toward an ornate, wrought iron bench positioned parallel to a gravel path thirty
yards away. “I’m not a fan of weakness,” the man chided, “but given your condition—”

Her tone might have been shaky, but the ugly oath Anna muttered could not fail to
leave Antila in any doubt of what she thought of him. He eased her onto the bench.

“Tut-tut. Such language. When you are calm, we’ll talk. It might help if you put your
head between your knees.”

She’d have sworn at him again but doubted there were words adequate enough to drive
her point home. And she hated that he was right; ducking her head to her knees—not
that she had any choice the way his hand clasped the back of her neck to hold her
down—was helping with the nausea and her balance.

“You have no right—” she started furiously, pushing up into a more dignified position
when she was able.

“I alone define my own rights. Take that as a warning.”

“You have got to be insane.”

“That would depend on how you measure sanity, but the child is mine, and I will have
him.”

He still held her neck, his thumb tracing circles as if to soothe. Revolted, she threw
her arm up to dislodge him. “Over my dead body!”

Faster than she would have believed credible, his hand slid to her throat, his fingers
curling inward with enough bite to slow her pulse to a weak throb. “If necessary,
but not yet. Not until I have what I want.”

He’d replaced his sunglasses. She saw her own reflection in the darkened lenses. Eyes
wide, her lips parted in shock. She didn’t doubt him for a second, especially when
four Rottweiler-related thugs appeared at his side, their posture warning her that
one word from their boss, and
they’d
break her neck.

Surrendering, she jerked a nod. Immediately the pressure eased from her throat. She
swallowed as best as she was able.

Antila flicked his wrist, and the men retreated. Then he casually straightened his
suit cuffs as if she’d imagined the currents of violence, as if brute force and intimidation
was a common form of communication. That’s when she knew for sure she was in the presence
of stone-dead evil.

“The baby—my son—needs protection, which means so do you. Consider yourself very lucky,
Mrs. Marshall.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I do. I’ve got an ex-husband
who is into protection. You’d better pray you never meet him.”

A vein in Antila’s temple fattened and pulsed. “Nick Marshall’s interference already
irritates me. I suggest you find a way to dissuade his further interest.”

“And if you knew him at all, you’d realize it’s already too late. Once Nick makes
up his mind, he’s impossible to shift.”

Antila stretched his legs out in front and draped his arms across the back of the
bench as if he ruled the world. “If you care for him at all, I would recommend you
try. If he makes a move against me, I will erase him. Please do not blame me later
if you ignore this warning. I will allow no one to come between me and my child.”

A tremor coursed her skin. “What about me?” She gulped, not really caring. But if
anything happened to Nick? No way she’d survive the loss. They might be estranged,
but he was a part of her. She breathed for him. Always had. A truth from which she’d
never been able to hide. No doubt some bored deity’s laugh at her expense.

“Until the birth, you are under
my
full protection. This is why I am less than happy at the violence you have met.”

His knuckles whitened as he cured his fingers tight into the palm of his hand. No
he wasn’t happy. This madman took the attacks against her as a personal affront. How
ironic. She doubted she’d ever met another human being who simmered violence the way
Antila did. Except for Nick, but it had never been directed at her. “Oddly enough,
I don’t find that the least reassuring. What happens in five months’ time?” She cursed
the uncertainty breaking her voice. She needed to be strong. Confident.

“Present me with a son, and you will find my protection is enduring…as long as you
accede to my terms.”

Her mouth dried to the texture of sandpaper. It hurt to get the words out. “Which
are?”

“While pregnant you do everything necessary to stay healthy. Safe. No risks, whatsoever.
When the time comes, you hand over my son. Simple.”

Simple? It would rip her heart out. “I’m not giving up my baby. Not to you, not to
anyone. I’d rather die.”

A nasty smile, perverted amusement, twisted Antila’s lips. “Something easily arranged,
but only
after
the birth, if that is what you wish.”

She no longer cared that he might see the tremors racking her frame. Let him watch
what he did to her. Let him see that he made her sick to her stomach. The idea of
her son alone with this man speared flaming darts through her lungs. “Why? Why are
you doing this?”

“Because you bear a most striking resemblance—”

He inhaled sharply, as if he’d caught himself just in time.

“Because there is a past mishap to be corrected,” Antila finished abruptly.

There was a fierce determination behind his words, something she could have respected
but for the complete absence of basic humanity. “That’s good to know,” she lied, “but
why the threats? If this baby means so much to you, why try to poison me? Why have
me pushed under a truck? Why attack me? I could have lost—”

Antila released what she could only describe as a hushed hiss, like a snake warning
displeasure at having been disturbed. Come to think of it, there was definitely something
reptilian about him, like the way he held his face to the sun as if to warm his blood.
“Now you insult me. I am not responsible for the unpleasantness you have recently
experienced. I sent you gifts only to have them tossed back in my face. Going to the
police was really not very wise.”

Her skin didn’t just creep; it sloughed free and lay in a quivering mess of creases
at her feet. Dear God, Nick was right. Two psychos did have her in their sights. One,
a raving bastard intent on taking her baby, the other a crazed loon, intent on killing
her.

She shook her head, bangs falling across her cheekbones. “It’s what any normal person
would do?” she muttered absently, unsure what normal meant anymore.

“But you, Anna, are not normal. You are exceptional. You were meant for me. I knew
this the minute I laid eyes upon the photo. Your picture, your face, reached out to
me in a way none of the other possible surrogates could.”

“Others?”

He turned his head at her question and nodded. “Yes, my search for a suitable carrier
for my son was both thorough and extensive. It also cost me a great deal of money.
Information is not cheap. Bribes are expensive. Thankfully, I’m a very rich man… I’m
also remarkably persuasive.”

She nearly gagged on the bile rising in her throat. “Oh, my God, are you telling me
I’m little more than an incubator?”

His hand shot to her belly, fingers splayed, his palm pressed deep. “Yes, but a most
privileged one. My son is inside you.”

She flinched and twisted away. Antila’s laugh was soft.

“I like you, Mrs. Marshall. Maybe I will extend the courtesy of allowing you to be
a small part of our son’s life should you decide to retract your desire to die postpartum.
That is what you truly want, it is it not? To be there for your child.”

The fire she’d thought he’d stolen ignited deep in her belly, its stinging heat pulsing
through her veins. “Abso-bloody-lutely, you bastard. Only a small part is not what
I had in mind. You can go to hell! We have laws in this country, and I’ll see you
in court.”

She tried to push upright. A fist, knuckles ugly with scarring, wrapped her wrist.
She couldn’t hold back a sharp cry of pain.

“Many have tried that route; none succeeded.” His tone, curiously empty until now,
took on a lethal edge. “I may be ruthless, Mrs. Marshall, but I never lie. Defy me,
and I will kill everyone you hold important, starting with your ex-husband.”

Not for a second did she doubt him. Her tenuous grip on courage slipped completely.
Wrapping her arms across her chest, she leaned forward and rocked to and fro. “Ohmygod…ohmygod…ohmygod.”

Antila removed his dark glasses and patted her back.

Repulsed, she skidded sideways along the bench and would have fallen had he not grasped
her arm. One look in his lifeless eyes, and Anna didn’t doubt she faced a killer.

“Stay away from Nick; stay away from my friends.” She hated showing weakness of any
kind, but she’d swallow her pride and beg if that’s what it took. “Please. What harm
have they ever done to you?”

“None, that’s my point. I will not hesitate to kill innocents should they come between
me and what I want—”

“Like the poor nurse,” she interrupted with a whisper.

“An employee of mine who I could no longer trust. She posed a threat. I had her eliminated.
That is my way, and how I will deal with anyone who dares compromise me.”

“Jesus. Enough. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just promise me, no more killing.” She hated
acquiescing to him, but if it meant saving lives…damn it, she was only four months
pregnant, another five before the birth. Surely, time enough for her to plan a way
out of this nightmare. And to keep everyone safe, herself and her baby included.

“That is a promise I cannot give. You need protecting from her, as much as she needs
protecting from herself. Her family will come, and I must neutralize them. For the
sake of my son.”

Her? She? Anna pressed her temple with her thumb and silently questioned whether she’d
crashed into yet another parallel universe. Nothing made sense. Maybe she’d wake up
soon. “So you do know who is responsible for the attacks against me?”

“I know it is none of your business. The baby, my son, must be your sole focus. Heed
the lesson of what happens to those I deem a threat. If you have doubts, recall the
photo of your friend, Nurse Abbott. The injuries she sustained before being allowed
to die.”

Anna’s stomach heaved. Like she’d ever forget that horrendous image. “You keep saying
‘son,’” she said dully. “What if I’m carrying a girl?”

“That would be most unfortunate. I must have a son.”

She didn’t give a damn why he “must have a son.” It was her own immediate future and
that of her baby that scared her. “Yes, but what if he is a she?”

His poisonous twist of a smile had her wanting to douse herself in disinfectant. “Then
as the saying goes, Anna—all bets are off. Though you are my preferred choice, there
are others who could replace you. When I said you were exceptional, my dear. I did
not mean to imply you are not expendable.”

…

Curled tight in her office chair, her legs crossed beneath her, her fingers white
against the sharp acid-green upholstery of the arms, Anna’s mind was so far past exhausted,
it had ceased to limp and was crawling on battered hands and knees instead.

No matter how many mental doors she’d slammed, deaths skulked whichever way she turned.

She’d never run out of ideas before. Ever. Thinking outside the box, solving the most
impossible of puzzles, was supposed to be her forte. And she’d never conceded defeat—well,
except for once. Nick had certainly been her Gordian knot. A failure she’d buried
deep, too painful to retrieve and examine.

Now he was back, and his life was in danger. Because of her.

There had to be a way to protect him. Herself and her baby, too. No one was culling
her
daughter. And if it was a son, no way would she share him with a monster like Antila…and
no bloody way was anyone touching her ex.

Fine, so she didn’t yet have all the answers, but she’d take on Antila and defeat
him the same way she did everything. One step at a time.

She glanced at her watch, did a quick calculation in her head, and then reached for
her phone. “Meet me,” she snapped when Nick answered his phone. “One hour from now
at
Club Nadir
, or by God, I’ll call in every favor I’m owed and stage the biggest Freedom of Information
demonstration outside the Cube, you won’t have to worry about explaining what goes
on it there to the public, because the whole bloody Service will be forced to relocate.
Abroad!”

…

In exactly fifty-nine minutes, Nick arrived at the shabby nightclub. Still, she’d
beaten him to it, and just to rub in the past, she’d occupied
their
old table. The one in the corner. Private but affording the best view of the dance
floor. Not that he danced—well, maybe once or twice with Anna, but each time it had
damn near gotten them chucked out of the club. Some heat was better shared in private—but
he’d never regretted spending many a hot hour, hard as rock, watching her gyrate.

He sucked in a breath and stole a moment just to stare at the only woman who’d damn
near bought him to his knees. She’d driven him insane most of the time, but fuck,
it had been worth every recklessly, dangerous second. And he missed the chaos. The
raw tension of never knowing what she’d do next. And most of all, her wicked laugh,
impossible to resist. Not that he’d be hearing much of that tonight. He could tell
she was sorely pissed from the set of her shoulders, and as he drew nearer, weaving
his way through the bodies pulsing to the heavy beat of music, from the dangerous
blaze in her eyes.