Bodyguard Daddy Page 2

  If not, Amber and Michael might really be dead.

  “I didn’t think it would take this long,” Rus murmured.

  Milek glanced out the windows of the corner office. Even though the detectives and some uniformed officers appeared busy, they spared glances at Rus’s office—at Rus. Some of those glances seemed uneasy. “To clean up the corruption?”

  He nodded. “That, too. But I meant I didn’t think it would take this long to find her boss’s killer. I didn’t think she would have to stay dead as long as this.”

  “Was that why you told me?”

  “You weren’t getting over her.”

  Milek had broken up with her nearly five years before her death, and he hadn’t gotten over her in all that time. It didn’t matter that he knew she was alive; he was still mourning her—still mourning what they’d once had, such passion. His pulse quickened just thinking about her—about how badly he’d wanted her—needed her.

  But if it had only been passion, he wouldn’t have broken their engagement. He’d loved her too much to risk ruining her future. “I need to see her.”

  To talk to her. To apologize.

  “I can’t risk it,” Rus said. “Until now, I was the only one who knew the truth.”

  “I’m not going to tell anyone,” Milek said. He wouldn’t compromise her safety, or their son’s.

  “We can’t take the chance of either of us going to see her. We can’t risk someone following one of us.”

  “But why would they?” Milek asked. “Nobody but us knows she’s alive. So they’re not looking for her any longer.” But somebody needed to be looking for him—for the shooter who had nearly killed her and Michael.

  He believed Rus was still working the case. But it wasn’t his only case. He’d just taken down a major crime boss. “Does Chekov have any ideas?” Milek asked. “He’s been talking to you pretty freely.”

  Because he had cut a deal to keep his daughter from going to a maximum security prison for murder. She was going to a locked psychiatric facility instead. Milek doubted she would ever leave it.

  Rus shook his head. “Chekov claims he doesn’t know anything.”

  “Do you?” Milek asked. “Where are you at with this case?” He needed to be apprised of the investigation, so he could help. Payne Protection bodyguards protected their clients by physically guarding them, but also by eliminating the threats to their safety.

  Rus admitted, “I know who killed the DA.”

  Milek gasped. “Really? If you think that’s the same person who went after Amber, why the hell is she still gone?”

  Had she decided she liked her new life better than the one she’d left behind?

  “I know who pulled the trigger,” Rus said. “But I haven’t apprehended him. And until I do, I won’t know who hired him.”

  “The shooter was a hired killer?”

  Rus nodded. “Ballistics matched up to other hits. A fingerprint recovered from a shell confirmed the shooter is Frank Campanelli.”

  “You know who it is but you can’t find him?” Milek was appalled. Rus needed help. He needed Payne Protection. Nikki Payne could track down anyone.

  “They call Frank Campanelli ‘The Ghost,’” Rus shared. “So I don’t know when or if I’ll be able to find him. Nobody has ever been able to arrest him.”

  “The same was true of Chekov,” Milek reminded him, “until Garek and Candace and I helped you.” And Milek had even more motivation now. Anger heated his blood, making it pump fast and hard through his veins. When Milek found the man who’d tried to kill Amber and his son, he might make him a ghost.

  Rus shrugged. “Even if we catch Campanelli, I doubt he would talk. Hired assassins rarely give up their clients. So I’m focusing on finding the real killer—whoever hired him. I’m checking into all the cases DA Schievink and Amber Talsma were both working at the time Schievink died, and even the cases they’d worked together before his death.”

  Milek nodded. “Someone could have gunned down the DA out of vengeance.”

  Rus narrowed his gaze and studied Milek.

  Milek couldn’t deny he had a motive to want to kill Gregory Schievink. The guy had done his damnedest to break up him and Amber. When she’d become pregnant, Schievink had sought out Milek and insisted the baby was his—not Milek’s. His hands curled into fists as they had that day. But that day he hadn’t kept them clenched at his sides; he’d swung. He’d hit the slimy bastard, and in doing so, Milek had confirmed his worst fears to himself.

  “Schievink was an amoral son of a bitch. But I wasn’t the only one with a grudge against him. You have to have a long list of criminals.” Not to mention the man’s wife—Schievink had been married.

  Rus nodded. But his intent stare didn’t leave Milek’s face. Of course, he probably ranked Milek among those criminals, if not at the top of the list.

  “I would never hurt Amber and Michael.” Not intentionally. Not physically. In fact, he’d done everything in his power so he wouldn’t hurt them.

  “Was it a mistake to trust you, Kozminski?” the agent asked.

  Milek shook his head.

  But he could tell the FBI agent wasn’t convinced. The man opened his mouth, but before he could ask whatever question he’d wanted, an alarm beeped from his computer.

  Rus glanced at his computer monitor, then turned his full attention to it. As he read whatever was on the screen, a muscle twitched along his tightly clenched jaw.

  This obviously wasn’t good news for the agent.

  “What is it?” Milek asked. Hadn’t the city been through enough over the past year or so?

  “I flagged my computer to alert me whenever a report came through with a certain name on it,” Rus said.

  He knew. Instinctively Milek knew what that name was. But he moved around Rus’s desk to stand behind his chair. He needed to see it for himself.

  “Amber Talsma...” It was highlighted within a police report. He glanced up at the corner of the screen to read the incident number. This wasn’t an old report—from a year ago. This was a recent one. From just days ago.

  “Why did it take your computer so long to alert you?” he asked.

  “The incident happened days ago,” Rus confirmed. “But the report just got completed and uploaded to the system.”

  “What took so long?”

  “It wasn’t a priority,” Rus said.

  Anything involving Amber was a priority.

  “Why not?” He leaned closer, trying to read more of the report over Rus’s shoulder.

  As he read, Rus surmised, “It was assumed to be just vandalism, malicious destruction of property...”

  “What does any of that have to do with Amber?” Milek asked. “Her house was sold nearly a year ago.” He doubted she had any other property in River City.

  “This incident didn’t happen at her house,” Rus replied. “It happened at a cemetery.”

  Milek’s heart began to hammer hard and fast—with dread. He already had a sick suspicion, but just as he needed to see Amber and Michael to believe they were really alive, he needed Rus to confirm his suspicion. “What happened?”

  “Two graves were desecrated,” Rus said. And he pointed to that highlighted name. There was another one after it. Michael Talsma.

  It should have been Michael Kozminski. Milek should have claimed his son while he’d had the chance. Because he wasn’t certain he would have the chance again...

  Another curse slipped through Rus’s lips. “You know what this means...”

  Yeah, he knew what it meant.

  “That someone went to the time and the trouble to dig up two empty graves.”

  They were no longer the only ones who knew Amber and Michael Talsma weren’t really dead. And the only person who would have gone to the troubl
e of confirming they were alive was the person who wanted them dead.

  Chapter 2

  Her hand trembled slightly as Stacy Kozminski-Payne attached the last jewel to the plush body of the stuffed bear. The jewels were made of shiny material and felt, and attached so well to the bear that they couldn’t be torn off and eaten. She wouldn’t expose the children for whom she made the bears to choking hazards. A jewelry designer by trade, Stacy only made the bears for family.

  For her children.

  And for her nephews and nieces. It was hard to make the bears now without thinking of the first one she’d made—for her first nephew. Michael was gone now. Maybe he’d been clutching the bear in those final moments—before the flames had consumed him. Maybe it had given him some comfort.

  Strong arms slid around her, offering her comfort. “I don’t know why you keep putting yourself through this,” a deep voice murmured. Warm breath caressed the side of her face before lips skimmed over it.

  She trembled again—for another reason entirely. Her husband’s touch never failed to excite her. “I always make them for the babies.”

  “Yes, you’ve already made them for all the babies who’ve been born,” Logan said. “You don’t need to make another one.”

  “Garek—”

  His deep laugh interrupted her. “Garek and Candace have just gotten married. And those two aren’t likely to ever have children.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “Nobody thought they were likely to ever get married, either.” But they had. On Christmas. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered how beautiful the wedding had been. At least one of her brothers was happy now.

  “Hey,” he said as he caught the hint of tears she fought. “I’m sure you’re right. You’re always right. I never noticed how those two felt about each other. But you knew.”

  She had known how Garek and Candace felt about each other. How had she not known how Milek had felt about Amber? She’d believed her friend—believed that Milek had broken their engagement because he hadn’t really loved her. When Amber died, Stacy had realized how wrong she’d been—when she’d seen how devastated Milek had been. That devastation had lasted the whole past year. But he was getting better now.

  Or maybe that was just what she wanted to see. He didn’t seem as depressed or angry. He just seemed edgy; something was still bothering him. But she dared not push him. He’d only just begun to talk to her again.

  “What’s wrong?” Logan asked. And he turned her in his arms, holding her closely. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She wanted to say nothing. She wanted to be completely happy. But that happiness brought her guilt—that she could be happy when Milek was still miserable—when her best friend was dead. But she was happy. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m not making this bear for Garek and Candace.”

  She wouldn’t dare presume. She and Candace had only recently forged a friendship and Stacy didn’t want to risk losing another friend.

  Logan arched a dark brow over one of his sparkling blue eyes. “Then who...?”

  She let the happiness out then with a smile. “We are.”

  Logan let out a whoop. Lifting her in his arms, he swung her around the workshop he’d converted from a spare bedroom in their house. With another baby on the way, they might need to convert it back or buy a bigger house.

  She wouldn’t worry about that yet. She didn’t even have to worry about coming up with a name. They had already agreed what the name would be for their next child. It had been too soon when their little Penny was born, her grief too fresh. But Stacy was ready now.

  If they had another girl, they would name her Amber. And if the baby was a boy, Michael...

  * * *

  “Mommy, I’m not sick,” Mason protested from the backseat of the minivan that belonged to Heather Ames.

  Stopped at a light, she turned back toward him with a weak smile as she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. The light needed to turn green. Now. “I know, honey.”

  “Then why did you get me from school so early?”

  He had been in class only a couple of hours when she came for him.

  “Because we need to leave...” she murmured as she turned back to study the long red light.

  “School?”

  The light changed—finally—so she pressed hard on the accelerator. What if someone had followed her from the house to the school? What if someone was following her now?

  The photos proved she’d been under surveillance. Someone had been watching her—them. She doubted he’d stopped now. So she kept glancing into the rearview mirror.

  But she didn’t know how to detect and lose a tail—like FBI Agent Rus—like Milek and Garek. Their father was a jewel thief; he’d taught his sons not only how to steal but how to elude arrest. Eventually he’d been caught, though, and imprisoned. Milek and Garek had done time, as well.

  She almost understood now what they’d gone through and what she had put many criminals through. For the past year she had felt imprisoned—trapped in a life and even in a body where she hadn’t wanted to be.

  “We’re leaving town,” she told her son.

  He clapped his hands together. “We’re going home!”

  “No...” That was the last place they could go.

  “But I wanna go home.” She glanced back and confirmed his bottom lip was jutted out in a pout. “I wanna see Aunt Stacy...”

  So did Amber. She had never needed her best friend more. But Stacy was related to Agent Rus now. Would she believe he had betrayed her? Would she forgive Amber for not coming to her a year ago?

  She couldn’t risk going back to River City. That was where the attempt had been made on their lives—where Gregory had been murdered. She and Michael would be in more danger there. Not that they weren’t in danger now.

  I know who you really are...

  And all those photos. Somebody had been watching them—for weeks. She glanced in the rearview mirror again. Was he watching her right this minute?

  She shuddered.

  “We can’t go see Aunt Stacy yet,” she said.

  “You always say that...” The disappointment and irritation in his little voice broke her heart.

  She had turned his world upside down a year ago. And now she had to do it again.

  “We have to leave now,” she said. “I packed up all our stuff.” At least, everything she’d thought they would need and had been able to pack in less than an hour.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  She had no idea.

  He turned in his seat and peered into the cargo area behind him. “Where’s Jewel?”

  Stacy had lovingly made the bear for her nephew. She probably thought it had burned up in the crash with them—since Amber hadn’t been able to leave it behind in their house.

  She was sure she’d packed it; it had been on top of the last box she’d brought out to the van. “It’s back there—in the open box.”

  She’d been in such a hurry she hadn’t had time to tape any of them shut. But the last one she hadn’t even bothered to fold in the flaps.

  Michael leaned around his seat to face the back. She heard a sob slip out. “Jewel’s not here!”

  She had been juggling that last box as she tried to pull the door shut behind her. But the wind had caught the door and pulled it from her grasp, and she’d nearly dropped the box, as well. She might have lost the bear then.

  Michael had already given up so much. His family. His friends. She couldn’t ask him to give up his favorite toy—his one connection to his past.

  When she pulled over to check inside and around all the boxes in the back, she didn’t find the bear. With Michael sobbing brokenheartedly now, she had no choice. She had to return to the house where those pictures had been sent. Wher
e one of them had been taken...

  Where the killer might be waiting for them...

  * * *

  “This is a mistake,” Agent Rus remarked, holding tightly to the armrest as Milek steered around a sharp curve. “We could be leading the shooter right to her.”

  Milek glanced in the rearview mirror and shook his head. “Nobody’s following me.” Nobody could. Garek had trained him too well in how to tail someone—so well that he hadn’t even noticed Milek tailing him a few times. But he’d taught him even better in how to lose a tail.

  Drive it like you stole it...

  He would have smiled, as he always did when he heard his brother’s advice inside his head. But his head was already pounding—with his madly beating pulse. “Or we could be too late...”

  His greatest fear was that the shooter had already beaten them to her. She wasn’t very far away—just a few hours north of River City near the Lake Michigan shore.

  “Nobody but me knows where she is,” Rus maintained. “Until now...”

  He’d told Milek. But someone else must have figured it out. Or why else would their graves have been dug up?

  “You should have stashed her farther away,” Milek said. “Maybe someone recognized her.” And then dug up the caskets to confirm they were empty.

  “I wanted her to be close enough,” Rus said, “in case she needed me.”

  Milek understood the FBI agent’s logic, and now that he was nearly to the town where Rus had moved her, he could even appreciate her not being any farther away. Rus had made wise choices. But Milek wished he was the man she had turned to—as she once had. Her passion had equaled his; she’d wanted him as badly and as often as he’d wanted her. Her kisses, her touch had driven him crazy—had tested his already tenuous control. She had once wanted him, but she hadn’t trusted him when she’d needed help.

  He understood why she hadn’t. He hadn’t been there for her when she had needed him before—when she’d learned she was pregnant with his son. If only he could have explained...

  But he knew Amber. She wouldn’t have accepted the truth. It had been easier to lie to her and to pretend he hadn’t cared.