Authors: Lisa Childs
She’d do something crazy—like insist Nick arrest her.
Amber glanced nervously at Milek. “We can’t stay away from Michael that long.”
Nick was surprised they had left their son at all. But the whole Payne family had gathered around to protect him—to protect her and Milek, too. He almost pitied whoever was trying to kill them. They were bound to get frustrated—maybe so frustrated they’d slip up.
“I’ll let you know what Brad Jipping has to say,” Nick said, “after I interrogate him.”
Amber gave him a skeptical glance. He’d heard she’d been a good assistant DA, maybe even one of the best. That hadn’t come from the acting DA, though. Evelyn Reynolds had had nothing complimentary to say about Amber. Other lawyers, judges and even the mayor had sung her praises.
“You going to go after your job again?” he asked. “Once we find whoever’s been after you?” She had a pretty damn good chance of getting it—if she talked to the right people.
She glanced at Milek again. And the nerves were still there. She wanted to know what he thought of the idea, but Kozminski’s expression revealed nothing. And he was usually the easier of the two brothers to read. Nick had certainly had no problem seeing how much pain it had caused Milek, thinking Amber and their son were dead.
Instead of answering his question, Amber just shrugged. “It’s not a possibility now. Not with the danger Michael and I are in.”
Nick didn’t make promises. He didn’t claim he would find whoever was after her. All he could say was “I’ll let you know when I talk to Jipping.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but Milek escorted her out of Nick’s office. The door had been closed for just a minute before it opened again.
He uttered a weary sigh. “You can’t seriously think he’s being brought in already...” He glanced up and stopped.
“Who?” Penny Payne asked.
He could have refused to answer but she’d find out anyhow. She always found out everything. “A suspect in the attempts on Amber and Michael Talsma’s lives.”
“That’s great.” She smiled. “You’ve made progress, then.”
He shook his head. Too many people had given him credit for things he hadn’t done. He’d been too busy pushing papers to do the hard work. The dangerous work.
“Amber came up with the guy,” he said. “He’s a good suspect, though.”
“Hopefully this will all be over soon,” she said. “And Amber and her son can take their lives back.”
“Is that why you stopped by?” he asked. “To check on the investigation?”
She reached into her purse—which was voluminous—and pulled out a large plastic bag full of chocolate chip cookies. “I brought you these,” she said. “Your favorites...”
How had she known? His own mother hadn’t known what he liked to eat. Not that she’d cooked very often. She’d usually sent him down to a fast-food restaurant to bring them back a meal—when she hadn’t spent all of their money on drugs or booze.
“They’re the ones with the sour cream in the batter to keep them soft,” she said.
“And the big chunks of dark chocolate,” he murmured. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman when he could feel lust for a cookie. But Penny Payne was a master baker. She didn’t use those measly little chips of chocolate. She used chunks, and a lot of them. “Thank you.”
She smiled again.
He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. She had his gratitude. Nobody had welcomed him more than she had. “Why?” The question slipped out without his volition. “Why are you so nice to me? Why do you bring me cookies? Why do you treat me like I’m one of your kids?”
“You’re a Payne,” she said.
He shook his head. “I’m a Rus.”
“That’s not your real name. That’s a name your mother assumed when she went into hiding.”
He shrugged. “So it was something else before Rus.” He didn’t care. “It was never Payne.”
“It should have been,” she said.
“I’ve made a life for myself,” he said.
“You’ve made a career for yourself,” she said as she glanced around his office. “You haven’t made a life, Nick. Not yet...”
Without another word, she turned and walked out. But she left more behind than the cookies she’d baked for him. She’d left him with a confusing myriad of emotions. He didn’t have time to sort them out now. He had a case to solve.
* * *
“Would you do it?” Milek asked. “Would you go back to your old job if you weren’t in danger?”
She felt him studying her face as if her answer really mattered to him. But when she glanced across the console, his attention was back on the road.
“I wouldn’t have left it if I hadn’t been in danger,” Amber replied.
“You’ll be able to get it back,” he assured her.
She chuckled. “Not likely. The new DA would never hire me back.”
“Why not?”
“She resented my relationship with Gregory.”
A muscle twitched along his tightly clenched jaw.
“My working relationship,” she clarified. “That was all we had.”
“It wasn’t all he wanted.”
She couldn’t argue that. “I think Evelyn Reynolds thought there was more between us.”
“She wasn’t the only one.”
“She wasn’t happy about it at all...” Amber tensed as she remembered the older woman’s viciousness. Lawyers were usually competitive and ambitious. But Evelyn Reynolds had taken it to a whole new level.
Milek reached across and slid his hand along her thigh to her knee. Maybe he’d meant it as a comforting gesture. But her skin tingled. “How unhappy?” he asked. “Unhappy enough to do something about it?”
During her years with the DA’s office, Amber had seen too much to rule out anyone as a suspect. Grandmas had killed for gambling money. Teenagers for shoes. Would Evelyn have killed for a job?
Maybe. But then, why go after Amber and Michael? She was no longer a threat to her position. Evelyn had it all now, but maybe she still wasn’t happy.
“I don’t know...”
“Maybe we should talk to her and find out,” Milek suggested.
She’d insisted on leaving the condo because she’d wanted to interrogate Brad Jipping. But she had been away from Michael for a while. Too long...
He squeezed her knee again. “He will be okay,” he assured her—instinctively knowing why she’d hesitated, about whom she was concerned. Because he was concerned about him, too. Milek might not love her, but he loved their son. “Everyone is watching him.”
“Then who’s watching us?” She didn’t only want her son to be safe; she wanted to live to see him again.
* * *
The killer. That was who Milek suspected he’d seen in his rearview mirror, driving a truck with conspicuous front-end damage. From slamming into Candace’s SUV, from trying to run her and Michael off the road. Milek could see the truck, but he couldn’t see the driver—only a shadow slouched behind the steering wheel. That truck had been following them since they’d left River City PD.
Was it another hired assassin? Or was the person who’d hired Campanelli so determined Amber and Michael die that he had decided to carry out the job himself?
Milek hoped so. Not that he wanted Amber in danger. But maybe Parker or Logan could catch him. The twin bodyguards were following him today. He would have noticed their tailing him even if they hadn’t told him they had personally taken on protection duty for him. They were good, though, so the killer was probably totally unaware of their presence.
“He’s back there, isn’t he?” Amber asked as she glanced over her shoulder at the street behind them.
Milek squeezed her knee. “Don’t look,” he advised her.
“You don’t want him to know you noticed him?”
“I don’t want to lose him before Logan or Parker has a chance to get a better look.”
But tires squealed behind them as the truck made a sharp U-turn. He murmured, “Too late...”
An engine revved as a black SUV made the same sharp turn and pursued the truck.
“Follow them,” Amber said.
Milek shook his head. “I’m not putting you in more danger. I’ll let Parker and Logan handle it.” They were good—hopefully good enough.
“If Evelyn is behind Gregory’s murder, she won’t be the one behind the wheel. She would have hired someone.”
“And she’d have some resources,” he said. “Maybe a criminal she cut a break who owes her a favor...”
He wished he were following the truck, that he could catch the man who’d tried to hurt his son. If not for Candace’s expert driving, Michael could have been hurt. Stacy and her unborn children could have been harmed, as well. Reminding himself that they were all right, he released a shuddery sigh.
Amber’s hand covered his on her knee. “It’s okay,” she said. “They’ll catch the driver. You and I can catch the killer. Let’s talk to Evelyn—see if she’s a viable suspect.”
He nodded. At least it was something to do—something to occupy his mind until he heard back from Parker and Logan. Since the police department was downtown, the city courthouse was close. In minutes he pulled into its parking structure. He had to drive up several levels before he found a space, and with each level Amber’s grip on his hand tightened more.
After finally finding an open spot, he pulled the SUV into it and turned toward her. She’d gone deathly pale, and her nails dug into the back of his hand. He pulled his hand free to put the SUV into Park and remove the key from the ignition.
But all his attention—all his concern—was focused on her. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head. “I used to love coming to work,” she murmured. “Loved fighting for justice...”
That was why he’d broken their engagement; he hadn’t wanted to jeopardize the career for which she’d worked so hard and that she loved so much.
“Shouldn’t you be happy to be back here, then?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not back.”
And it was clear she was worried she would never be able to come back.
He reached for the keys. “This was a bad idea...”
And not just because coming here had upset her, but because something else had occurred to him. With Parker and Logan pursuing the truck that had been following him, nobody was protecting him and Amber anymore.
He was her only protection. He’d handled a lot of assignments on his own and had never lost a client. But this wasn’t an ordinary assignment.
This was Amber.
He couldn’t lose her. Not again...
She grabbed his hand and stopped him from turning the key. “Don’t leave,” she said. “I’m fine now. It was just weird coming here and not working here anymore. We still need to question Evelyn.”
“We don’t even know she’s going to be available,” he reminded her.
“We’ll wait, then.”
“You want to be away from Michael that long?” he asked. Because he didn’t.
She shook her head. “No. But like you said, he’ll be okay. And with all the attention he’s getting from his aunts, he won’t miss me.”
Milek’s blood chilled. Maybe their son wouldn’t miss her for an hour or two. But what if something happened to her? What if she never made it back to him?
He would miss her. Thanks to Milek, Amber was the only parent the little boy had ever known. He had to make sure he got his son’s mother safely back to him.
“We’re going home,” he said as his uneasy feeling persisted.
Maybe she felt it, too, because she begrudgingly nodded her agreement. “Okay...”
Was it home to her? Had his condo begun to feel that way to her? While he wanted her to be comfortable there—to no longer feel as if it was a prison—he didn’t want her to settle in too completely. Despite all the times they’d made love, nothing had really changed.
He wasn’t a good enough man to be her husband or Michael’s father. It wasn’t just her career that could be jeopardized by being with him.
He turned the key and glanced into the rearview mirror to back out. And that was when he saw the movement—the flash in the shadows. He pushed Amber’s head down just as the back window exploded from the gunshot. Glass flew—raining into the front seat and around his face and hands.
He reached for his gun as more shots rang out. But it was too late...
Chapter 20
H
e’d made a rookie mistake. He’d fallen for the decoy. Self-disgust twisted Logan’s guts into knots. Stacy would never forgive him if her brother and her best friend were killed on his watch.
He would never be able to look at himself again. He could barely look at Parker as his twin clicked off his cell and shoved it into his pocket. “Milek’s not answering.”
Logan turned back to the kid he’d pulled from the battered pickup truck. “If anyone’s been hurt—or worse—you’re an accessory,” he warned him, pushing the kid against the side of the pickup box. “You better tell me what the hell you know right now!”
The teenager’s tough facade crumbled as tears rolled down his dirty face. “I don’t know nothing!”
“You’re driving a truck that ran my pregnant wife off the road a day ago,” Logan said. He’d felt so helpless—so angry—that he hadn’t been there, that he hadn’t protected the woman he loved. Candace had. But
he
should have been there.
“I didn’t run nobody off the road,” the kid said. “I just had to follow that SUV.”
“Why?”
“Cuz I got paid to.” He moved his hand toward his pocket. But Logan grabbed him.
He checked the pocket himself. He didn’t expect a gun, or the kid would have already pulled it. But he could have carried a knife. Instead Logan found some crisp bills. Two hundreds. Frank Campanelli wouldn’t have done anything for that amount. Maybe, like so many older executives, he’d been replaced with a kid who would work cheap.
“Is that how much you got paid for the other day—for trying to kill a little boy?”
The kid shook his head, and his knit cap slid off his greasy hair. “I’m no killer. I just got paid to drive the truck.”
To be the diversion. Logan’s guts knotted, and he glanced at Parker, who was back on his cell.
“Who paid you?” Logan asked.
The kid shrugged. “I don’t know ’im.”
“A man?”
“I think so,” the kid replied.
“Tall? Thin? White? Black?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know...”
“This person gave you two hundred dollars and you didn’t notice anything about him?”