Knox nods without a word and goes back to rubbing the baby's back. She seems to like him. She locked her brown eyes on his face while she ate, watching him like a cute little owl. He crooned to her the whole time. She grinned at him once and then passed out. She seems well taken care of, though a basement full of mold and mildew is no place for a baby. I don't know what the fuck Remi was thinking, hiding her down here.
The door at the end of the hall opens with a loud squeal, and then flashlights beam down the hallway.
"Gregory!" Braxton shouts.
"In here!" I call out.
Heavy steps pound down the hall, and then four men in LAPD uniforms and Finn appear in the doorway, flashlights in hand. Braxton and Finn head toward us.
"I've got the rest of the team checking the floor for a sewer entrance," Braxton says, stopping halfway across the room. He glances around in surprise. "He's been staying here?"
"Looks like," Knox says.
"Jesus fucking Christ." Finn heads toward him and the baby. "Is the baby all right?"
"Seems fine, but we need to have her checked out," I mutter.
"Any idea where the fuck he got a kid from?" Braxton asks, bewilderment stamped across his face.
"Nope," I lie, meeting Finn's gaze.
He eyes me for a split second and then gives me an imperceptible nod. "Let's get her out of here and get her checked out," he murmurs to Knox. Knox turns like he's going to give her to Finn but Finn holds up his hands, shaking his head. "You carry her. She seems to like you."
Knox shrugs like it doesn't matter to him one way or another, though he's been wrapped around her little finger since he took her from my arms. He readjusts her position in his arms, causing her to wail a brief protest.
"Shh, little one," he soothes her. "Uncle Knox has you."
Finn snorts laughter, earning a glare from Knox when the baby fusses again.
I grab the rucksack of baby stuff and hand it off to Braxton. "I'm going after Remi," I mutter to him and Finn both. I'm beyond pissed he managed to elude me twice in as many days. "Someone needs to get their hands on sewer schematics and figure out where the fuck he could go from here."
"Already on it," Braxton promises, taking the rucksack.
"And someone else needs to clear the rest of this shit out of here and seal it off so he can't get back in. If he wants to hide out, he's going to have to find a new place." No way are we making this easy for him. He can't go back to his house or his uncle's. And now he can't come back here.
Sooner or later, he's going to run out of hiding spots or make a mistake. As soon as he does, his ass is mine.
Chapter Twelve
Mila
"Mila, he's going to be okay," Luke says for the thousandth time since he brought me home.
I stop pacing around the living room and turn to look at him. He's propped on the arm of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes locked on my face. Despite the aura of calm he exudes, worry glints in the depths of his green eyes. He's concerned too.
"He's been out of touch for three hours, Luke," I remind him, and then resume pacing. When Finn said Roman went after Remi Pledger three hours ago, I wasn't overly worried. But he's been completely out of touch ever since. No one has heard a word from him or Knox Cooper, the agent who went with him.
"Roman is smart," Luke says. "He won't put himself in danger."
I snort at that. Roman is smart, but his job is the definition of dangerous. And tracking a dirty cop through the sewers of Los Angeles isn't exactly a safe thing to do. I've had to fight myself to keep from calling him a thousand times to check on him…but Luke keeps reminding me that if I do call, I'll just give away his position.
"What are they going to do with the baby they found?" I ask, trying to distract myself as the desire to call him comes roaring to the surface again.
"Honestly? I have no fucking clue." Luke sounds genuinely puzzled. "They haven't found the mother yet. But if she shows up, we can't exactly refuse to give the kid back to her just because the kid might be Francisco's."
"You don't think she's going to show up, do you?" I ask, spinning to face him again. The look on his face makes it clear he doesn't think she's going to surface. "You think Remi killed her, don't you?"
Luke holds up his hands. "I didn't say that."
I arch a brow at him, not buying it.
"I don't know what I think," he says after a moment, expelling a heavy breath. "A month ago, I wouldn't have believed Pledger was capable of hurting a woman…"
"But that was before he kidnapped Lillian."
"Yeah." Luke grimaces again, disgust and then anger overtaking his expression. "I don't know how far he's willing to go now, but he's on Francisco's team. If this woman willingly gave birth to Francisco's child, I don't see why they'd want her hurt."
He's right, but… "What if you're wrong?"
"Then we'll deal with it," he says firmly. "Until then, the baby will go into protective custody with a good family."
"They're really going to put a baby in protective custody?"
Luke shrugs. "What other choice do they have? We can't risk Francisco getting his hands on the kid. Although, that may be a moot point if the mother shows up."
"What does that mean?"
"If the mom shows up, the kid will more than likely go back to her, even if she is one of Francisco's people."
"Seriously?" I gape at him, stunned. "They'd just hand the baby back over to her? What if she gives the baby to him?"
Uncertainty slides across Luke's face, but he shrugs. "I don't know. I'm sure your man and Finn will figure out something to keep that from happening."
"I hope so," I mutter and then resume my pacing. I feel so awful for the baby. Why would Remi be hiding her in a warehouse that's falling apart? It doesn't make sense. I can't imagine my little girl being forced to live in a rotting warehouse. The thought alone brings tears to my eyes. I reach up and quickly brush them away, hoping Luke won't notice.
"The baby will be okay, Mila," he says softly.
"I know," I whisper and then have to clear my throat. I place a hand over my belly, frowning sadly. "It's just sad. That poor baby. Why woul–"
Roman's phone rings, making me jump.
I spin around to face it, staring blankly for a moment, and then it rings again. My heart races as I cross the room and snatch it from the table. "Roman, are you okay? Did you find him?"
"It's Kincaid, sweetheart."
Disappointment hits me like a hammer blow.
"Oh," I mutter, unable to keep the emotion from bleeding over into that one word.
Michael chuckles, but it sounds forced. "I'm guessing Roman isn't there?"
"No. He's out chasing Remi Pledger through the sewers," I mumble and slump down onto the chaise, trying to calm my racing heart and the strong emotions coursing through me. Disappointment wars with fear for Roman and worry for the baby they found, squeezing my heart in a vise.
"What the fuck?" Michael asks.
"Oh, you didn't know." I bite my lip and take a deep breath, forcing myself to get it together. "An LAPD officer located Remi earlier today. They chased him into a warehouse, but he escaped into sewer tunnels beneath the building. Roman is searching for him."
"By himself?"
"No, Knox Cooper went with him."
"That's good." Michael blows out a breath. "Can you tell him to call me when he gets a chance? I've got some shit I need to talk to him about." His voice cracks and then shakes.
"Of course," I agree, frowning in worry. "Are…are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine," he rasps, but I can tell he's lying. He's not fine. He almost sounds like he's been crying, but I barely know him and I don't think he'd like it much if I pushed him to talk to me about whatever is going on. I know what Roman has said about him and what he's been through. After meeting him, I can't help but worry about him like Roman does. "Just have Roman call me as soon as possible."
"I will. Bye, Michael."
; "Bye, Mila."
I hang up the phone and glance up at Luke. "It was Kincaid," I mutter to him, dropping the phone to the chaise beside me. "He needs Roman to call him."
Luke grunts and then pushes himself to his feet. "Come on," he says, holding a hand out to me. When I just look at him in question, the corner of his lip curls up into a half-smile. "I'm going to feed you so your man doesn't kick my ass when he gets home."
"I'm not very hungry," I mutter, but I hold out my hand and let him pull me to my feet. Even though the thought of food makes my stomach twist, I probably should eat for the sake of the baby.
"You ever had coxinha?" he asks as I grab my phone and Roman's and follow him into the kitchen.
"No. What is it?"
"It's a Brazilian dish," Luke heads straight to the fridge. He starts prowling around, explaining while he pulls out ingredients, "It's shredded chicken, cream cheese, corn, and onions, wrapped in dough and then deep fried. It's fucking delicious."
I clamber up into a chair, damn near losing my balance. By the time I'm finally up, I'm out of breath.
"Roman needs to get you a step stool," Luke says, chuckling when I huff. He pushes the fridge door closed with his foot and deposits an armload of stuff on the counter before pulling open cabinets and grabbing even more stuff. "And that's not me calling you fat. Just short."
"I live with a giant who needs a giant sized table and chairs," I mutter. "It's not my fault I have short legs and I'm not very graceful."
Luke laughs softly, shaking his head.
I watch him move around the kitchen for a minute, surprised that he seems to know his way around so well. "You and Roman are shattering the stereotype."
He pauses long enough to cock a brow at me in obvious amusement.
"You know, that single men live off fast food and the kindness of strangers." I wave a hand in his direction. "Roman is an amazing cook, and you seem to know what you're doing too."
"Roman isn't single." Luke shoots me a look that's a mix between amusement and disapproval as he washes his hands. "He hears you say that shit, you're in trouble."
"He's not single now." I roll my eyes. "But he was single most of his life. You're missing the point. You guys don't fit the stereotype."
"Not all men leave everything up to their women," Luke says after a moment, grabbing a cutting board to chop onions. "Some of us prefer to be the caretaker. To do that, we have to learn how to do shit like cook." He chops onions into fine pieces before scooping them into a bowl and setting it aside. Once that's out of the way, he turns on the stove and pours ingredients into a skillet before layering two chicken breasts inside. "I had four little sisters."
"I bet you spoiled them rotten."
Luke shrugs a shoulder. "They were easy to spoil."
"Do they all live here?"
"In California? No. The youngest, Nelinha, is in grad school in Boston. Adelia lives in Napa Valley with her husband and two boys. Juliana lives here in the city. And Isabella is in San Francisco."
"Are you guys very close?"
Luke nods.
"That's awesome. I always wondered what it was like to have siblings." A frown tugs at my lips. "I was an only child, though I'm not sure if that's because my parents never wanted more children or if it's because my mom died before they got around to having more."
"Your dad never remarried?"
"No. Did yours?"
Luke tenses at the question. "No, he didn't."
"Oh." He might enjoy talking about his sisters, but I don't think talking about his father brings up the same happy memories for him. I understand exactly what that's like. "What do your sisters do?"
"Isabella is a lawyer. Adelia is a mom. Juliana is a bartender."
"Really?"
Luke smiles. "She could own the bar if she wanted, but she prefers being on the floor. It makes her happy, so I'm happy for her."
"You really do spoil them, don't you?" I can't help but tease him. He's exactly like Roman—a pushover when it comes to the people he loves. "I bet they all have you wrapped around their fingers."
"They try," he says with a laugh. "I don't mind giving them their way. It was…rough on them after my mom died. Nelinha was just a baby. Isabella and Juliana were only three. And Adelia was five. They barely remember her. I like seeing them happy."
"I'm sorry about your mom," I whisper, my heart aching for him.
"Me too," he says simply and then changes the subject. "Do spices bother you?"
"Nope, our ladybug seems to like them," I say, patting my belly. I settle in and watch him work. Despite how queasy I feel, the coxinha smells amazing. My mouth starts to water. I pick up Roman's phone and glance at it again, but he still hasn't called. I shoot off a quick text to Finn and then sigh heavily when he immediately responds that they're still waiting to hear from him.
"He's going to be okay, Mila," Luke says, turning from the stove to look at me. "Roman is a tough motherfucker, and he knows you're here waiting for you. I guarantee you Remi isn't going to stop him from getting back to you."
When my phone rings an hour later, I grab it off the table. My heart is in my throat when I see Finn's name on the display. "Finn? Have you heard from him? Is he okay?"
"I'm fine, sweetheart," Roman's deep voice rumbles down the line.
"Roman." My eyes fall closed, relief settling over me like a warm blanket. Tears prickle at my eyes. "Thank God."
"You been worrying about me, baby?" he asks.
"Yeah," I whisper, clutching the phone tight. "Finn told me you went after Remi. When we didn't hear from you, I got worried. Are you okay?"
"I'm pissed as hell that I didn't find the slippery motherfucker," he growls into the phone and then his voice drops low. "You don't need to worry about me though, Mila. I promise you that I will always come home to you at the end of the day. Nothing will jeopardize that."
"I know." I bite my lip and then blurt out what's really been bothering me since Remi called him. "But he's up to something, Roman. I know you don't believe me, but what he said about his son being Francisco's…I don't think he was lying about it. He's still here for a reason. I think you need to figure out what that reason is."
He's quiet for a minute and then he sighs. "Fuck," he mutters, his voice rough with frustration. "I know, and I'm working on it. We found a list of women we think may be pregnant, possibly with Francisco's kids. We're trying to track all of them down now."
"Oh. How could he possibly get so many women pregnant?"
"We're working on that too," he says. "The best we've been able to put together, they all sought treatment at a fertility clinic in Mexico City within the last year. I guess it's common for couples in the United States to make the trip to Mexico for treatment due to the costs. I'm heading out with Finn in a few minutes to track down a few women on the list to find out what they know and which are pregnant."
I glance at Luke who's watching me from across the kitchen table. I quickly fill him in on the situation, watching as his brows climb. "They're going to track down a few of the women," I murmur to him and then turn back to my conversation with Roman. "What can I do to help?"
"You're already doing it, baby," he says softly. "Just keep your sexy ass at home with Luke and wait for me to get there. I'm coming for you as soon as I can, I promise."
"Okay," I whisper, clutching the phone when his tone drops to that familiar growl that sets my entire body on fire.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"I'll see you as soon as I can."
"Oh! Michael called. He said he needs you to call him as soon as possible. He needs your help with something." I bite my lip and hesitate, torn between telling him that something's wrong and leaving it alone. He's under so much stress already, trying to do everything by himself. But…. "I think something happened," I whisper to him. "He sounded bad."
"Bad how?" Roman asks, his tone sharp, worried.
"I'm not sure, but I think he was crying, Roman," I whis
per, turning my back on Luke as if that'll keep him from hearing what I'm saying. "He sounded really bad."
"Fuck," Roman sighs. "I'll go check on him as soon as I get a chance."
"Okay. I love you."
"Love you too, baby."
Poor Roman. I swear, if I ever see Remi again, I'm going to punch him in the throat for everything he's putting my man through.
It's well after one in the morning before Roman finally gets home. I'm camped out on the chaise in the living room, with Luke sprawled out on the couch. He's watching some action movie, but I haven't really been paying attention. I'm so tired, but I didn't want to sleep without Roman.
When he walks in the front door, his dark hair is a mess. His jaw is scruffy where he hasn't shaved since yesterday. There are deep bruises beneath his eyes, standing in testament to the fact that he's not getting much sleep these days. He's changed out of his formal uniform pants into jeans and an ATF t-shirt. He looks completely exhausted.
"You waiting up for me?" he asks, coming straight to me once the door is locked and the alarm set. He picks me up out of the chaise like I weigh nothing and wraps me up in his arms.
"Yeah. I couldn't sleep." I rest my head against his shoulder, breathing him in…and then gag.
"Shit," he mutters, quickly putting me on my feet and taking a step back. "I haven't had time to shower."
"Did you bathe in Old Spice?" I wave my hand in front of my face, trying to fan away the overpowering stench of cologne.
He chuckles at me and then grimaces. "Pretty much. It covers the smell of the sewers that's all over me. Swear to God, I've literally waded through shit today."
My stomach turns as soon as he says it and I have to take off running for the bathroom. I barely make it to the master bathroom before my stomach rebels and everything I ate comes rushing back up. I cling to the toilet, my eyes watering. By the time I finally stop vomiting, my head hurts. I flush the toilet and close the lid, sinking down onto it.
Desire Me (Her Best Friend's Father Book 4) Page 19
