Bodyguard Daddy (16 page)

It was his own damn fault. He shouldn’t have taught him so well. He walked into Payne Protection and slammed the door behind himself.

Nikki Payne glanced up from her desk. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Milek...”

She leaned back in her chair. “You lost him?”

He jerked his head in a sharp nod. “Yes.”

“Logan’s gone,” she said. “I’m the only one here.”

“You’re the one I need,” he said. “You’re going to help me find him.”

Her brown eyes brightened. She didn’t look like her brothers; she looked like Penny Payne. Maybe that was why Logan was so protective of her—because he hadn’t been able to protect his mother from the pain she’d suffered.

“I am?” Then she nodded. “Of course I can. If I’d been at the meeting...”

But she hadn’t been in the park during the shooting, so Milek hadn’t called her as he had called the others to his condo. And there was no way Nikki would have been in the park. Logan was fanatical about keeping his sister away from the dangerous side of Payne Protection.

“What you do is more important,” he said. “I need you to track his phone.”

Her fingers tapped furiously on her keyboard. Not only was she good, but she was fast. She shook her head. “His phone’s shut off.”

“Can’t you remotely turn it back on?”

She tapped some more keys and shook her head again. “He must’ve taken out the battery,” she said. “I can’t track its GPS.”

“Damn it!”

“But I did what you asked me last time we talked,” she said, “when none of us could figure out what was going on with him and you thought he might be working for Rus.” She uttered her half brother’s last name with bitter emphasis.

So much had happened recently—finding out Amber and his nephew were alive—that he couldn’t remember what he’d requested Nikki to do.

She smiled. “I tapped his phone.”

His heart swelled, and he rushed around the desk to give her a quick hug. “If I didn’t love my wife so much,” he said, “I would kiss you.”

Nikki shuddered. “And Candace would kill us both.”

He chuckled. But Nikki wasn’t wrong.

“What do you want to hear?” she asked. “I haven’t played any of it yet.”

“Last night,” he said. “He took a call last night during the meeting. And he acted really odd afterward.” He’d gotten rid of them quickly.

Nikki’s fingers moved nimbly across the keyboard again. She pulled up a screen that looked like an EKG screen. But when she pressed another key, Milek’s voice played.

Garek hadn’t ever heard the other man’s voice before, but he knew who it was. “Son of a bitch...”

The hit man had called Milek—presumably for money. But Garek didn’t trust him. Why would Milek have?

Frank Campanelli didn’t intend to take just Milek’s money. He intended to take his life, too.

And Milek was out there alone—unprotected.

“Damn it!” he cursed. He headed toward the door but turned back to tell Nikki, “Call Agent Rus. Play him what we just heard.”

“But tapping Milek’s phone is illegal,” Nikki protested.

“He won’t arrest you.” Even if she refused to acknowledge their relationship, Nick thought of her as a sister. “Call him!” He paused again and added, “Thanks.”

She might have saved his brother’s life. If Garek could get to him in time...

* * *

Milek had brought all the money he could get his hands on—not as much as Campanelli had wanted, though. Was it enough to get the hit man to reveal who’d hired him?

Maybe it wouldn’t matter how much money Milek had. Maybe Frank had no intention of doing anything but killing him. Milek was ready for that contingency, too. He’d already drawn his gun, already clicked off the safety, as he walked toward the alley entrance to the nightclub.

It had been shut down a couple of months ago—when Viktor Chekov had gone to prison and his daughter to the psychiatric hospital. It was possible one of them had hired Frank to kill Milek. Maybe the hit man had two clients: whoever wanted Amber dead and someone who wanted Milek dead.

But wouldn’t Chekov have gone after Garek or Candace or Agent Rus first? Why him? His part in that whole investigation had been minimal.

Even though the meeting was in Chekov’s club, Milek didn’t believe it had anything to do with the imprisoned mobster. Schievink’s murder and the attempts on Amber’s life were about something else. He’d read Rus’s reports. The list of possible suspects was long, longer after Rus had learned Schievink was corrupt. While he and Rus hadn’t been able to tie any of those suspects to Campanelli, Campanelli would be able to.

If he really intended to talk...

Milek reached for the back door and easily pulled it open. It was unlocked—just as Frank had said it would be.

But could Milek trust anything else he’d said?

Before stepping inside, he braced himself for a barrage of bullets. He had no Dumpster to duck behind—no protection if this was an ambush. The light from the alley was faint, penetrating only a small circle of the darkness of what must have been a back hallway. Frank had said it would lead him to a stairwell to Chekov’s office.

Was Campanelli trying to take over for the imprisoned mobster? Other people were apparently scrambling to try. Frank wouldn’t be able to pull off the coup unless he could gain the respect of what was left of Chekov’s family. Selling out would gain him no respect.

Only following through on a hit would.

Amber was safe, he reminded himself. Candace was inside the condo with her while Cooper and Parker guarded the perimeter. No one would get past them. No one would hurt her.

He was the one in danger.

He kept his back to the wall, his weapon gripped tightly in his hand. But maybe he didn’t need to worry about bullets. If he had injured the hit man enough to affect his shooting, Campanelli might have switched to explosives.

The whole damn club could have been wired to blow.

Milek paused at another door. The sign above it proclaimed Stairs. The light from it reflected onto the placard below it that said Private.

He held his breath as he reached for the handle and pulled open the door. It could have been wired. Any of the steps he ascended could be, too. But nothing happened. Only his footfalls echoed as he headed up to the next level.

No explosion.

The silence was eerie.

He opened his mouth to call out but stopped himself. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to announce his arrival. Not that Frank wouldn’t have heard the creak of either door Milek had opened or the metal steps groaning beneath his weight.

As he hit the landing at the top, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Just because he hadn’t blown up didn’t mean he wasn’t still in danger.

Frank could have anything planned for him. And now it was time to find out exactly what. He reached for the door at the top of the stairs. His hand suddenly clammy, it nearly slid off the handle, but he tightened his grip and pulled the door open. Another trip down a dark hall and he stood outside Chekov’s private office.

A lot of business had gone down inside there. Bad business. Drug dealing. Prostitution. Murder.

Was another murder about to take place?

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. It was dark; the room had no windows. He reached for the light switch and flipped it up, but nothing happened. The power had already been shut off.

Or cut...

“Frank,” he called out. “I’m here. I came alone—just like you told me.” Which had been foolish. He saw that now.

But Frank had made his family before. He’d seen Candace, and in the park he’d seen the others—not that they’d been trying to hide. He’d wanted the hit man to see them—to know he wasn’t alone.

But he was alone now. And maybe Frank needed to know that before he’d show himself.

“We have a deal, Frank,” he said. “I brought the money.”

Would it be enough?

Where the hell was the guy?

The office was dark but it felt empty. He couldn’t hear anyone else breathing. Just his own shallow breaths...

Was he too early?

He walked toward the desk. Maybe it would be better if he were sitting behind it when Frank showed. If he had his back to the wall...

His foot hit something, something that rolled across the hardwood floor. He knelt and reached for it, wrapping his hand around the cold metal. A flashlight. Fumbling around, he found the switch and turned it on. The beam bounced across the floor and lit the face of the body lying on it.

The man stared up at him from glazed-over blue eyes. His hair was salt-and-pepper. His features unremarkable—just like the man he’d seen on the street. Just like the man Candace had described in the park. It had to be Frank Campanelli.

He was dead. Now the Ghost was really just that.

“Damn it!” Milek cursed.

He had been going to give up the person who’d hired him. He had been going to sell out. And somehow his client had known it and beaten Milek to him.

Hinges creaked and then the metal steps as someone came up the same back stairwell Milek had and headed down the hall. He didn’t really believe in ghosts. It wasn’t Frank Campanelli back from the dead. It was more likely whoever had killed him.

Chapter 14

“W
hat the hell were you thinking?” Nick asked as he fisted his hands under his desk. Even hours later, he was shaking a little in reaction. He’d nearly shot a man he knew—one he liked but wasn’t certain he ever should have trusted.

If only Garek had found out sooner about that call his brother had taken—about the meeting he’d planned with an assassin...

Maybe they would have gotten to the nightclub before Frank Campanelli wound up dead.

“I was thinking I’d end this,” Milek replied, his face flushed with anger. He was shaking a little, too—as he paced the confines of Nick’s office.

“Did you?” he asked. Nick had asked it hours ago—in the nightclub where he’d found Milek Kozminski standing over the dead body of the man who’d been trying to kill him, the woman he loved and his child. He wasn’t sure he would blame him if he had. But Frank’s weapon hadn’t been drawn from his holster let alone fired. Nobody would believe Frank’s death was self-defense. “Did you kill him?”

“Why would I?” Milek asked. “That doesn’t end this at all. That keeps it going because now we might never know who hired him.”

Nick groaned in frustration.

“That’s who killed him,” Milek said. “The person who didn’t trust him not to talk.”

Campanelli had probably claimed credit and a fee for Amber dying in the car accident a year ago. So when she resurfaced, his credibility was shot. Now so was he...

Maybe it wasn’t Milek who’d pulled the trigger. His gun hadn’t recently been fired. Nick wanted to believe him, but he had never trusted easily. “We’ll see what ballistics say...”

“You know the slug in Campanelli won’t match mine,” Milek said as he pulled open the door.

“I hope not,” Nick said. “Until I know for sure, you know the drill...”

Milek snorted and turned back to him. “You’re telling me not to leave town?”

Nick nodded.

Milek’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You think I’d leave town with Amber and our son in danger? You think I’d leave them with someone still determined to kill her?”

“No,” Nick admitted. “I don’t think you’d leave her. But you might leave with her.” He mentally kicked himself for putting that thought in the other man’s head, but maybe it had already been there.

If someone Nick cared about was in as much danger as Amber Talsma, he wasn’t sure what he would do—what lengths he might go to in order to keep her safe.

And if he had a child...

He nearly snorted, too. That wasn’t likely to ever happen. It was too hard for him to let anyone get close. He pushed away the fleeting thought of Annalise. That had been a mistake—one that had cost him a friendship. And Nick didn’t have enough friends to risk losing any more.

“Be smart,” he advised Milek. “Don’t put yourself or her or your kid in danger.”

“I’ll do whatever I need to,” he said, “in order to protect them.”

That was what worried Nick.

* * *

Someone had brought up Amber’s and Michael’s belongings. The ones she’d packed in the back of the wrecked van. She’d been grateful to have them—until now—as she tried to hurriedly pack them again.

“What are you doing?” a deep voice asked.

She glanced up to find Milek standing in the doorway. He didn’t lean against the jamb. His long body was tense; so was his handsome face, his jaw clenched.

“We need to leave,” she said. Certainly he had to understand they weren’t safe in River City. They might never learn who’d hired the hit man now.

He shook his head. “No, you and Michael can stay. I’ll leave.”

She stopped tossing items into her open suitcase and focused on his face. “You think I don’t want to be here because of you?”

“I didn’t kill Campanelli,” he said. “That’s not even why I agreed to meet him.”

“I know.” He’d put his life at risk to protect her and their son.

He gestured at the suitcase. “Then why are you packing? Why do you want to leave me?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said. Ever. But she couldn’t deal with those fears now. She had other reasons to be frightened. “I want to leave River City.”

“Why?”

“The danger’s here,” she said. “This is where Gregory was murdered, where I was shot at a year ago. And now the man who was supposed to kill me has been murdered here, too.”

“You were found the last time you ran,” Milek said. “What makes you think you won’t be found again—when you’re alone?”

She sucked in a breath. “You won’t go with us.”

“I can’t,” he said. “I was advised not to leave town.”

“What?”

“I’m a suspect in the hit man’s murder,” he said.

“Agent Rus thinks you killed him?”

“I thought you thought that, too.” And pain briefly darkened his silver eyes.

She hurried over to him then and did what she should have when he’d walked in the door. She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest. His heart pounded hard and fast beneath her cheek.