His Christmas Assignment Read online

  He sighed. “I’m trying…”

  If only he could find that damn gun…

  But Viktor had had plenty of time to dispose of it. Without the gun, it wouldn’t matter if Tori testified—not if she had no evidence to support that testimony.

  “Then you need to let that woman—whoever she is—go.”

  He had let her go. But then he’d been compelled to follow her.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Garek said. “She doesn’t mean anything to me.” The lie nearly stuck in his throat.

  “That’s good,” Tori said. “Maybe she’ll be okay then.”

  Did Tori know something about the attack on Candace? He opened his mouth to ask.

  But then she continued, “Because you and I are too much alike, Garek.”

  She wasn’t proposing they rekindle a teenage romance? He’d worried about that—when he’d taken the position as her bodyguard—she might misconstrue his reasons. Apparently she knew them better than he’d realized—since she’d suspected he was working undercover as an informant on her father.

  “When we care about someone,” she continued, “they wind up getting hurt.”

  That was why she’d gone to the police—why she’d been willing to testify. The man that had died had meant something to her—maybe everything.

  He couldn’t imagine what she must have gone through—watching that man die. And he never wanted to go through that with Candace. He had to keep her safe.

  *

  Stacy gripped the top rail of the crib as she leaned over it and watched her baby sleep. Little Penny was all Payne with her dark curls; they lay damply against her head. Despite the cold outside, the baby was warm. Her blue eyes—so like her father’s and her uncles’—were closed as she slept peacefully.

  Stacy could find no peace tonight. She had only been gone two days to track down Candace, but as Logan had already said, it had felt longer. She had missed him and their baby. She’d missed her family.

  But even though she was back home—back in Logan’s arms and had had her baby back in her arms, she still missed her family.

  Milek and Garek were gone yet.

  She had lost them.

  “Why are you awake?” a gruff voice asked.

  She turned to where her husband leaned against the doorjamb, his chest bare but for a dusting of dark hair. He was so damn good-looking…

  And she was so lucky he had fallen in love with her. He had saved her life—literally and figuratively. Because if she didn’t have him and little Penny now…

  He uttered a sympathetic sigh and stepped forward to wrap his arms around her. She leaned into his embrace, accepting his comfort—even though she didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t deserve this happiness.

  “You have to give Milek time,” Logan advised her.

  Since her brother had listened to her about Garek, she’d gotten her hopes up. He’d come home to help, too. But he obviously only intended to help Garek. Not her. Because now he was ignoring her calls again, sending them straight to voice mail.

  “He’s not the only one not answering my calls now,” she admitted. And that bothered her even more. Milek had a reason to be angry with her. But Garek…

  She’d only been trying to help him.

  “Da…” Logan caught himself midcuss and amended it to, “Darn it…”

  She smiled, amused he was already correcting himself in front of their baby even though she was too young to talk. And she wasn’t even awake.

  “But you had to know he wasn’t going to be happy you interfered with his life.”

  She leaned fully against him, confident he could support her weight. That he would support her. She wanted the same for her brothers. She wanted them to find someone strong enough to love them no matter what.

  Candace was that woman for Garek. Couldn’t he see it? Hopefully he would realize it before it was too late. Before he lost Candace or his freedom or his life…

  Because if he didn’t get away from Viktor Chekov, he was in danger of losing all three.

  *

  After two weeks away, Candace should have been eager to sleep in her own bed again. But she had avoided it and the memories it held. Even though it was unlikely after all this time, she’d worried the sheets might have smelled like Garek—like that curiously spicy, musky male scent she could smell even now. On her.

  Of course he had picked her up in the alley; he’d held her easily, effortlessly. And Candace wasn’t petite and delicate like the mobster’s daughter. She was tall and firmly muscled. But he hadn’t dropped her, not even when Milek had struck him from behind.

  Milek. He’d left a while ago. And he’d left her unsettled with his evasiveness. Had both he and Garek returned to their old lives?

  What were they doing for Viktor Chekov? Were they stealing again? They had been little more than toddlers when their father had taught them how to break and enter—homes, safes, museums…

  Was there some particular target Chekov wanted hit? Was that why Garek had gone back to work for him?

  Or was it because of what Stacy had said? Because he’d tried to be good for her—for Candace—and she’d never given him a chance?

  She had that one night—for a few hours. Muscles tightened low inside her belly as desire for him returned. It didn’t matter that she’d avoided the bed; she couldn’t avoid the memories. She’d curled up instead on her couch, with that heavy blanket wrapped around her, but she couldn’t sleep. Maybe that was because of residual adrenaline from fighting off her attacker.

  She preferred to blame that than desire for a man like Garek, a man she couldn’t trust. While he hadn’t been the one who’d attacked her in the alley, he could have had something to do with it. He hadn’t wanted her anywhere near that club. But if he knew her at all, he would know an attack wouldn’t frighten her away.

  She had never feared physical pain. It was the fear of emotional pain that had had her running away that night…

  And she had been right to run. She had been right about Garek all along. Hadn’t she been?

  Despite the blanket and the heat blasting out of the registers, she shivered. No. It wasn’t desire keeping her awake. And it wasn’t fear.

  It was anger. Anger over the attack. And anger over the fact that her attacker had gotten away. She needed to track him down, needed to find out who he was and why he’d meant her harm—or worse.

  But if it hadn’t been a random attack and he’d really wanted to hurt her, then she wouldn’t have to track him down. He would try for her again.

  The thought had no more crossed her mind than she noticed, in the faint light streaming in from the street, the doorknob turn.

  She had locked it—after she’d shown Milek out. She’d made certain of that. But the door hadn’t rattled as if someone had been picking the lock. The knob turned easily, as if it hadn’t been locked. Or as if somebody had a key.

  She reached beneath the pillow on which her head lay. And she closed her hand around the Glock she’d put there before she’d settled onto the couch.

  She had never given out a key to her apartment. She’d never been close enough to anyone—not even Logan—to give them a key to her place.

  The knob didn’t even click before the door began to open, spilling light from the hall into the living room. Candace shut her eyes just as it illuminated her face. But then the door closed, plunging the room into darkness again.

  She opened her eyes, which gradually adjusted to that faint light coming through the window. She could make out the shadow of her intruder. He was tall and broad-shouldered—like the masked man in the alley.

  He hesitated for a moment before stepping away from the door and starting—slowly—toward her. She tightened her grasp on her weapon, ready to draw it. She had no compulsion against using it.

  She had fired her weapon before. But she waited—wanting to identify her intruder before she shot him. She had no doubt he meant her harm, though, or h
e wouldn’t have broken in during the night.

  Or the wee hours of the morning. She had no idea how long she’d been lying there…not sleeping. Thinking about Garek…

  She couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been on her mind. Even now…

  She could still smell him, but not like she had earlier. His scent was stronger now. The spice, the musk…

  Her skin tingled and finally heat chased away the last of her chill.

  The shadow loomed larger, as the man neared the couch. He chased away the light and cast her in total darkness. But she instinctively knew when he reached for her.

  And she was ready.

  Chapter 7

  He was ready for her. So when she grabbed his arm and tried to flip him over the back of the couch, he caught himself, so he didn’t land on the floor. He landed on top of her. Her breath whooshed out, warmly caressing his throat. She wriggled beneath him, but her arms were pinned between their bodies. When she lifted her knee, he caught it with his thighs—before she did any damage.

  “It’s me,” he said. “It’s Garek…”

  “I know.” But she continued to struggle, bucking beneath him. Her breasts pushed against his chest, and her hips against his.

  He groaned as his body reacted. “Candace…”

  And finally she went still beneath him except for the frantic beat of her heart. He could feel it beating in her breast—feel it beating in sync with his—like it had that night when they’d made love.

  “Why are you fighting me?” he asked.

  She began to wriggle again. “You broke in!”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t break in.”

  She stilled again and said, “No, you didn’t. How did you get in?”

  “I took a key,” he admitted. “When I let myself out the morning after…”

  That night. That incredible night.

  His body tensed, every muscle taut with desire for her. He had been attracted to her since the first moment he’d seen her—looking so strong and beautiful and irritated. But he hadn’t realized the depth of the desire he could feel for her or the pleasure he could feel with her.

  Until that night…

  “You had no right to take a key,” Candace said. She was tense, too, but probably with anger.

  “Maybe you should have stuck around then,” he said, “instead of running off the minute I fell asleep.” He regretted that—regretted closing his eyes for a moment that night. But it had felt so right making love with her, being with her; he had achieved a level of peace he’d never known before. Until that night there had been very little peace in Garek’s chaotic life.

  “That night never should have happened,” she said. And even in the dim light coming through the window, he could tell how deeply her face flushed with embarrassment. “It was a mistake.”

  He wanted to argue with her. But she was right. It would have been easier for him had they never made love. Then he wouldn’t know how incredible they were together. He wouldn’t think about her constantly. He wouldn’t want her as much as he wanted her again.

  “Ah hell,” he murmured as he lowered his head to hers. This was no tentative kiss. No brushing of lips over lips. He took her mouth, like he’d taken her body that night. He kissed her passionately, parting her lips, so he could taste her. He slid his tongue over hers, deepening the kiss.

  She nipped at his lower lip, catching it between her teeth. She could have bitten him hard—could have stopped the kiss. But she kissed him back instead. And her hands moved between them, touching his chest and his stomach.

  He wished his clothes were gone, wished hers gone. He wanted nothing between them. Like that night, he wanted skin to skin. But when he reached for the blanket covering her, she shivered.

  And he remembered what she’d been through and why he’d come to her place. To check on her…

  To make sure she wasn’t hurt or in danger.

  He dragged his mouth from hers. Panting for breath, he leaned his forehead against hers. Staring into her eyes—her beautiful eyes—he asked, “Are you all right?”

  Her forehead moved against his as she shook her head. Then she moved again. Catching him by surprise, she flipped him onto the floor.

  His back struck the hardwood, his head just missing the coffee table. Like hers had earlier, his breath whooshed out. “You seem just fine to me.”

  “I am fine,” she said.

  “Is that what the ER doctor said?”

  “I didn’t go to the ER,” she replied.

  Concern and irritation struck him harder than he’d struck the floor, and he sat up. “I told Milek to take you to the emergency room.”

  She sat up, too, on the couch. But she kept the blanket wrapped around her. The chill must not have left her body. “And I didn’t want to go to the ER.”

  So why hadn’t Milek been answering his phone? Garek had thought that his brother must have shut off his cell while he’d been in the hospital and he’d just forgotten to turn it back on.

  “Where’s Milek?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He left a while ago.”

  Milek shouldn’t have left her—unprotected after someone had attacked her. What the hell had he been thinking?

  “He should have stayed,” Garek murmured.

  “Why?” Candace asked.

  “You were attacked,” he reminded her. “You’re in danger.”

  “You don’t think it was just some random attack?” she asked.

  He bit his lip—harder than she had and wished he could take back the words. He didn’t need to rouse her suspicions any more than Stacy already had. He shrugged. “I don’t know what it was.”

  “I intend to find out,” she said.

  Panic clutched his heart. “No, Candace, you need to let this go.”

  “Someone attacked me, and I’m supposed to forget about it?” she asked.

  Hell, no. He wouldn’t forget either. He wanted that person to pay. Painfully.

  “I didn’t need to go to the ER,” she repeated. “I needed to go to the police department and report the attack.”

  “No,” he instinctively replied. If the police started snooping around the club, asking questions, asking for security footage to see who might have followed Candace out, then Viktor would dispose of that gun for certain.

  “Why not?” she asked. Her hand slid beneath the pillow on the couch.

  And Garek caught the glint of metal. She’d been sleeping with a gun beneath her head.

  He was lucky she hadn’t used that on him. But she shouldn’t have had to be armed. Milek should have been standing guard—if not inside her apartment, then outside—to protect her.

  “Why shouldn’t I go to the police?” she asked again, her eyes narrowed as she stared down at him. It was times like this he could see the former cop in her; she had probably been a fearsome interrogator.

  He hesitated, uncertain what to tell her.

  “Who are you protecting?” she asked.

  “You,” he replied. “I want to protect you.” That was why he’d wanted her to leave the club. That was why he should have stayed away from her.

  But when Milek hadn’t answered his phone, he’d worried she’d been hurt worse than he’d thought. And he’d needed to check on her. However, even if Milek had answered his phone, Garek might have needed to see for himself that she was all right.

  She tilted her head. “Then shouldn’t you want me to find out who attacked me?”

  “I’ll find out,” he said. And he would make sure that person never hurt her again.

  She shook her head. “I think you already know…”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here,” he said.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” She held out her hand. “Give me back my key.”

  He pulled it from his pocket and, rising up on his knees, leaned over the couch and dropped it into her palm. Then he moved even closer, so his mouth nearly touched hers and asked, “Do you think it matters I don’t have
a key? Do you think you can keep me out?”

  She pulled the gun from beneath the pillow and pointed it at him. “Yes, I do.”

  He laughed. “Why didn’t you pull that gun on me when I first walked in here?”

  She must have known it was him. And even though she obviously didn’t trust him, she had kissed him back. The attraction wasn’t all one-sided anymore. She wanted him, too, and if he hadn’t remembered what she’d been through earlier that night, they might have made love again.

  But like the first time, that would have been a mistake—it would only strengthen the connection between them. And if he intended to keep her safe, he had to break that connection. He had to keep her away from him.

  “I wasn’t sure who you were when you first came in,” she said. But he saw the lie in her eyes—in her inability to meet his gaze.

  He eased back—not because of the gun—but because the temptation to kiss her again overwhelmed him. “Next time,” he advised her, “pull the gun.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” she said as she closed her hand around the key.

  They both knew not having a key wouldn’t keep him out. But he wouldn’t break in again. He had to stay away.

  He was worried that wouldn’t be enough to keep her safe, though—she was still in danger. And where the hell was Milek? Why hadn’t he stayed close to protect her?

  He intended to find out. But he was reluctant to leave her. Then another thought occurred to him. Maybe something had happened to Milek.

  Maybe Garek had put his brother in danger, too. No, it was best he leave Candace and stay far, far away from her. Because maybe Tori Chekov was right, the people they cared about always got hurt.

  *

  The noise of the police department washed over Candace. The beeping phones, the drone of voices…

  Then FBI Special Agent Nicholas Rus closed the door to his office and muted the noise. A year ago he had been assigned to investigate corruption in the River City Police Department. It had been far more extensive than anyone had realized—which was probably why he was still here.

  At least career-wise. But he had another reason to stay in River City. His family.