by Snow, Nicole
“I get that. Ward and Grandma are my only family, too.”
“And Paige.”
“Oh, yeah, there’s nothing like a new sister-in-law to mix things up,” I say with a snort. “Sometimes she’s on my side, busting Ward’s balls. Other times, they’re stomping on mine. Husband-wife team.”
That gets a giggle, which makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something tonight.
“I thought your parents were still living, too?” she asks quietly. “After all the crazy stuff and bad things they did...are you really cutting them out forever?”
“We don’t talk.” I leave it at that, and it’s nice to be able to say that and trust it won’t go any further.
Reese gets it.
I just hate that I’m finally not the person with the most fucked up family in the room, for once. As it stands, the battered dove next to me needs a break. Not Brandt-level heartbreak.
Tonight, I’ll do my damnedest to make sure her family stays whole.
7
Nick the Prick (Reese)
My colossal prick of a boss is driving me to my sister’s beat-up apartment, and I’m letting him.
Wait, scratch that.
My pure fire billionaire boss is driving me to my sister’s beat-up apartment, and I’m secretly impressed that he wants to help.
Oh, I’m aware how stupid that is. Nothing about this promises a happy ending.
We’re heading for a wall of rock-solid drama and I don’t even know when to brace for impact.
Still, I’m lucky he was here, because back at the gas station...I’m not sure I could have driven myself anywhere. And for Millie’s sake, I don’t have time to waste getting my crap together.
“I have to get that attorney,” I mutter for the tenth time tonight.
“We’ll take care of it,” Nick insists, his green eyes twinkling with promise.
When did he get so patient? He doesn’t even point out we’ve already had this conversation.
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” I whisper, speaking my doubts out loud.
“She’ll be fine with her favorite aunt.”
“I’m her only aunt,” I point out. “And how can you be so sure?”
“I’m a Brandt. I’d like to think I inherited Grandma’s gut instinct. If she’s not smiling by the end of the night with you, I’ll make it happen.” He flashes that smile, that defiant gaze that says he might give my niece her own petting zoo to make good on his promise.
Okay, so he’s patient, but still cocky as hell.
I don’t know why I believe him when he tells me he’ll make sure Abby comes out of this unscathed. Pretty absurd, considering he’s never met her, but that’s how desperate I am.
The bossman finally pulls into the old orange-and-white brick building.
“Where’s her unit?”
“All the way down and to the left.”
He gets us as close to Abby’s unit as he can and stops the car.
I’m still in the seat after he’s stepped out. My chest feels ten pounds heavier. I’m struggling to breathe again.
I try not to make a show of forcing air in through my nose.
No luck. Those green hawk eyes of his are all-seeing, and he leans down so we’re eye level.
“You were calm. What happened?”
“What if she’s not here? What if today’s the one day Abby used a different babysitter and I don’t know who?” Silly, I know. But everything’s gone wrong today and I have this terrible feeling the universe isn’t done short-circuiting.
“You’re worried about Millie. That’s understandable. You’ve had a hard day—a hell of a time—but if Abby usually has her neighbor babysit, that’s where we’ll start. If she didn’t, whatever. We’ll find your munchkin.”
God.
It was so easy to accept his promise that Abby would be okay, but it’s harder to believe even a Brandt could miraculously find a missing four-year-old at the snap of his fingers.
My fist tightens. I take another deep breath full of needles.
The driver’s door closes. I look up in surprise, wondering if he’s given up on me and my crying act.
A few seconds later, my door opens. Nick takes my hand.
“Come on, Miss Halle. I don’t know this Gamlin lady, and the kid won’t come to me. You can do this.”
“But what if—”
“I’ll hire a private investigator. You’re not going home without your niece tonight. Do you trust me?” he growls in question, that haunted, steely look I know too well hardening on his face.
Sighing, I twine my fingers around his and let him help me out of the car. He shuts the door behind me.
“Sweetheart—”
“What?” I cut him off before he gets any farther.
Jesus. Sweetheart? Was that a term of endearment or pity?
Why do I care?
I don’t have time to ponder the insane intricacies of a complicated relationship with a man I’m still supposed to hate. I need to find Millie.
“You need to tell me where to go,” he finishes. Talk about anti-climactic.
“Abby’s place is number two twenty-nine.” I point to my sister’s apartment. “We just need to go up to the third floor. Mrs. Gamlin lives right above her.”
He nods, leading the way. Our hands are still locked together.
That’s probably for the best because I’m not sure I’d have the strength or wits to move on my own. My chest hurts. It’s hard to walk.
He drops my hand and we stop.
Dread becomes me.
Shit. Maybe he’s realized this isn’t his problem. I look up at him helplessly.
Just in time to feel his arms close around me, pulling me into his chest, this kind, fortifying hug I never would’ve guessed Nicholas Brandt had in him.
“I’m figuring this out as we go. I can’t tell you what happens next, but you’re going to quit worrying now, okay?”
How do I just shut off panicking over the only family I have?
“But—”
“Reese. I’ve got this. Let’s go.”
I follow, trying not to sink in my own confusion.
Why is Nick the Prick being so nice? Why is my sister locked up? And what kind of life will Millie have now if Abby can’t get out? Why is everything falling apart?
There’s a silver lining. When I’m confused, I get angry, and when I get angry, I get determined.
I use the spare key Abby gave me for the front entrance. Nick must notice because the next time I glance at him, he’s wearing that amused smirk I can’t decide whether I despise or secretly love.
“See? You’re okay, Halle. Let’s go rescue your sidekick.” He heads inside and leads me upstairs.
His voice is so disarming. He’s brushed my temporary insanity off as a joke—no big deal—and it’s working. I’m moving again.
There’s a thump behind Abby’s door just before we stop by her place on the second floor.
“Nick! Someone’s in Abby’s apartment.”
“Why do you think that?” he asks.
“You didn’t hear? Something just made a huge thump in there.”
He shrugs. “Probably a cat.”
“She doesn’t have a cat. Why would you assume that?”
“Kids are usually begging for animals. Hold on.”
I don’t say anything. I look closer, and notice a small scrap of yellow crime scene tape on the doorframe.
“Oh, crap. Of course. They had to search this place...are they not finished?” I wonder.
“It’d be blocked off if it were still an active investigation. They don’t dick around with that—I’ve seen enough crime shows to know,” he tells me.
Shrugging, I reach for the spare keyset again, instead of taking the next flight of stairs to Mrs. Gamlin’s. The strong hand cupped around mine tightens, tugging me back.
I glance at Nick.
“I’ll go first,” he tells me sternly. “You stay back until I give the all clear.”
I snort. “Dude. It’s my sister’s apartment.”
“And we know it wasn’t your sister thudding around in there and someone took the crime tape down. Let me scope it out,” he growls, his jaw set.
“You’re not usually so bossy.”
“You don’t usually take orders well,” he tosses back.
I blink, shaking my head.
“If you think it’s something bad, maybe we should just get Millie and go. I just want to know who’s in Abby’s apartment.”
“Only one way to find out, and I’m not letting anything happen to you. Stand the hell back.”
We take the five steps to Abby’s apartment before I pass Nick the key.
He puts his hand on the doorknob and looks back at me. “Back up. Get to the side.”
“Why?”
He rolls his eyes. “Do you have to question everything? So no one sees you.”
I can’t argue with that, and I also know when to shut my yap.
He turns the doorknob a couple times before pressing his ear against the thick wood. “It’s locked. Sounds like the TV’s on.”
“Should we just go to Mrs. Gamlin’s?”
“If that’s what you want.” He pulls out a pocket knife. “But since I’ve come this far...”
I stare at the knife while he holds up the key with his other hand. It’s small, but it’s kind of badass, him wanting to protect me like this.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a billionaire with a pocketknife,” I whisper.
He gives me a disarming glare. “It’s a souped-up Swiss Army knife. Sometimes you need more than a bottle opener.”
Right.
Before he can ready his war face—or even turn the key—the front door swings open. I jump so hard I nearly hit the ceiling.
Mrs. Gamlin wears a black gown and has a matching scarf tied around her white coils. “Can I help you with something? You’re scaring the bejeezus out of the kid!”
Nick raises a brow.
I move from the side of the railing, trying to put my heart back in my chest.
“Hi, Mrs. G. We didn’t mean to upset Millie. We thought you’d be upstairs and didn’t know who was in Abby’s apartment, so we just...took precautions?” I flash her an awkward smile.
“Oh, hi there, hon. About time. I’ve been waiting to hear from somebody. After those boys with badges pawed through the place for a few hours, I had to make sure it was still in one piece. Plus, the baby has all of her toys here. Is Abby all right?”
I tense, feeling whacked between the eyes with the question.
“She’s fine! It’s a crazy mix-up, that’s all. I mean...they didn’t find anything, did they?” I force the world’s most awkward smile. The less said, the better.
Mrs. Gamlin shakes her head.
Relief whooshes out my lungs.
“Well, thanks for watching Millie. Abby called and uh, I’ll take it from here.” I’m butchering this, but I just want to get the kid and go.
Mrs. Gamlin makes no effort to unblock Abby’s doorway. “Not to be nosy, but where is Abby?”
Millie shuffles up to the door behind her.
“Mrs. Gamwin, Lalaloopsey no play!” Then the bumblebee moves her face, spots me, and leaps onto my leg. “Auntie Reese!”
I scoop her up in my arms. There’s no way I can answer Mrs. Gamlin’s question about Abby now. I’m not scarring Millie for life with a crying fit.
I take my sweet time bouncing her against my chest, while Nick looks on warmly and Gamlin stares impatiently.
“Something came up,” I say. “Last-minute temp job like you know she gets sometimes. Abby won’t be home tonight,” I tell Mrs. Gamlin, hoping like hell it works.
“Ah, finally back to work! That’s good news because she’s a week overdue on rent, and after these cops showed up, I was starting to wonder. I’m not trying to be a b—” She stops and looks at Millie, then softens her voice. “Witch, dear, but I do need groceries. Social Security checks don’t cut it.”
Great. Now I have to deal with this, too.
Nick pulls out his wallet. “How much does she owe?”
“Two fifty even,” Mrs. Gamlin says quickly.
“Nick, no!” I protest.
He takes out several crisp bills and hands them to Mrs. Gamlin. “Here’s three hundred. Thanks for all your trouble.”
The woman raises both eyebrows high and whistles. Then she gives him a head-to-toe eye-scraping. “Thank you, young man. You need me to babysit again, honey, you know where I am.” She clasps the money in her fist and walks out of Abby’s apartment, beaming like the sun.
Yep. This is my life.
I’m desperate, scared, and indebted to my boss, and I sure as hell don’t want to be.
“Take it from my next paycheck,” I whisper.
“Hmm.” He strokes his chin, considering my request, and then turns those emerald eyes on me like knives. “No.”
His follow-up glare says this is not the time.
Ugh.
Too tired to argue back, I carry Millie into the apartment. Nick follows us in.
“Since you’re so big on favors tonight, could you take the car back to the office for me? I’ll have to stay here with Millie until I figure out what’s happening.”
His eyes dart to the broken window covered in aluminum foil. Maintenance was supposed to fix it weeks ago.
“Here? I’m not liking that idea,” he rumbles, his face tightening as he scans the shoebox living room.
For some ungodly reason, I put my hands on his shoulders. “Look, I know what this looks like. This tiny run-down apartment isn’t your style, but it’s plenty safe. Go enjoy your penthouse.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he growls, clearing his throat. “If you need a place to stay for the night—”
“Stop,” I cut in. No freaking way is he putting us up in some fancy hotel. “Fine. I’ll soothe your worries, gather up her things, and take her to my place.”
Not that the Chateau Reese is a huge improvement over Abby’s digs, but I keep that to myself. I’m trying to compromise.
“You could let me help,” he says, as if I’m oblivious.
I smile when I really want to flip him off.
“In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been letting you help. You’ve gone above and beyond tonight, boss. I’ll always appreciate it, but...I can take it from here.”
He nods, bends down, and picks up a book from the floor. It’s There’s a Monster at the End of this Book.
“You a big reader, Millie?” he asks, the familiar Brandt boy charm polishing his voice.
She looks at Nick shyly and gives him a crooked smile.
“Uh-huh, mister.” Then she turns to me. “We spending the night, Auntie Reese?”
“Sure are, bumblebee,” I say.
Her smile slips. Then comes the question I’ve been dreading.
“Where’s Mommy?”
“Working! Late-night job,” I try to say cheerfully. “She’s out making money so she can get you more toys.”
“You smile funny, Auntie Reese.” Millie smiles, showing a dimple in each cheek.
Damn. Nothing about this is easy.
Nick chuckles, covering his face with his hand to hide it. Not fast enough.
My eyes snap to his with a warning look.
“Sorry. She’s too cute.”
“And she knows it, unfortunately. Don’t encourage her.”
Millie turns to Nick, her little eyes going wide with interest. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Nick, little lady. It’s a pleasure.” He takes her tiny hand gently and shakes it. “And you?”
“Millie!” she squeals. “Are you Nick the Prick?”
Oh, my God.
No.
All the noes ever are mine right now.
“Millie!” I hiss.
Nick glances at me, his smirk growing wider. “I suppose that would be me.”
Millie nods excitedly. “Mommy says you
gonna be my uncle! Oh, and Auntie Reese eats too much ice cream worrying about you.”
Oh my God, Part Two.
“Millie, enough. We’ve got to—”
He raises an eyebrow at me and flicks his eyes back to Millie.
“Does she worry about me a lot, Millie?” he asks coolly.
Millie gives an exaggerated shrug. “Just what Mommy says. Will you be my uncle? I want Uncle Nick!”
Can I crawl under the table and die already? Can I at least take Abby’s place in the slammer?
“Millie, I need your backpack. We’re going to pack your things and go to my place, okay?” I say loudly, trying to grab her attention.
By some miracle, Brandt doesn’t prolong my torture. He finds a bag on the floor, picks it up, and stuffs the storybook inside.
“I found it. You go get her clothes. I can handle packing a few toys,” he says.
I laugh, not knowing what else to say. But I gather several outfits, socks, and pjs for Millie. Surely, that’s enough for now.
I’ll have Abby home in a couple of days. I need to get her home.
I’m so not permanent guardian material, even if I’ll die trying to be.
When I come out of the bedroom, Millie’s purple bag hangs on a chair beside the table. I stuff her clothes inside.
When I look up, Nick hands me a sleek black card.
“What’s this?”
“My personal credit card. I don’t want you worrying about surprise incidentals right now, and I know you’re too much of a Girl Scout to use the company card if it’s not a business expense. Use mine for whatever Millie needs—or for yourself.”
Holy Toledo.
If things were very, very different—if he were my boyfriend, not my boss—if he weren’t a billionaire and I wasn’t his driver—if he hadn’t taken me on one date and kissed me just to make an unhinged woman jealous...this would be a really sweet gesture.
As it stands, it’s a lot of things I can’t process.
Mostly, it’s humiliating.
I blink back tears. “Thanks, but no, thanks. I can’t take your money.”
I sniff. Hard. I still have my dignity, whatever else this night robbed away.
Then another worry knifes through me.
“Oh. Oh, crap,” I whimper.
“You said a bad word,” Millie says, giggling her little butt off.
