Bodyguard Daddy

by Lisa Childs

  She wasn’t sure if he was assuring her of that or his brother. Despite his happiness, Garek looked worried. She must have, too.

  Milek stepped closer to her and started to lift his hand. But then he pulled it back to his side and shoved it into his pocket. “You’ll be safe here,” he promised her.

  Maybe she and Michael would be safe. But what about Milek?

  * * *

  Milek waited until the condo door slid closed behind him before releasing the breath he’d held. Turning white, it hung in the air in front of him. The night was cold—leaving dawn with a thin sheen of frost coating the ground and every asphalt, concrete and brick surface.

  There was no grass here, in the old industrial area of River City where Milek had reclaimed the abandoned warehouse and converted it into his home. Where would a little boy play here?

  Not that he would be able to play outside—not with someone wanting the little boy’s mother dead. They might use the kid to get to her. To coerce her to leave his protection...

  He wasn’t doing the greatest job of protecting her, though. He was damn lucky Stacy was the one who’d broken in earlier and not Campanelli.

  Maybe Campanelli was incapacitated. He couldn’t have been that close to the man and had every shot miss. Milek was a better marksman than that.

  But even if he’d taken out Campanelli, there would be more—someone else hired to finish the job he’d failed to do. Someone wanted Amber dead. And to ensure her safety Milek had to take out that person, not a man already considered a ghost.

  He lifted the collar of his coat, pulling it up so it protected his neck and jaw from the bite of the cold air. It was early. The sky was just beginning to lighten before the sun would rise.

  Winter wasn’t quite done yet. It hung stubbornly on in Michigan—outstaying its short welcome like an unwanted houseguest.

  While Garek had lived with him for a while, Milek had never had houseguests. Until now.

  But Amber wasn’t unwanted. She was wanted. Too much.

  When she’d been so upset over Stacy’s refusal to speak to her, Milek had wanted to offer Amber comfort. But he knew what would happen if he touched her again. He would want her again. Hell, he already wanted her again.

  Garek was right. He could have had Rus come to him. He could have even called the federal agent. But Milek had needed to get some distance between him and Amber—especially after they’d made love.

  He needed to get his feelings back under control—needed to remind himself of all the reasons they could never be together again.

  He couldn’t be selfish. He had to do what was best for her. At the moment what was best for her was for Milek to keep her and Michael alive.

  The battered pickup he’d driven from up north was parked in the garage section at the back of the warehouse. He’d brought Amber and Michael in through there to keep them safe. He had other vehicles parked back there, too, but he took Garek’s instead. The black SUV was parked at the curb and already warmed up, so he punched in the code on the door and jumped inside. Reaching under the seat, he found the key and shoved it into the ignition.

  With his collar up, maybe whoever was watching him would mistake him for Garek. They weren’t twins like Logan and Parker, but they looked enough alike that from a distance they could be mistaken for each other.

  And Milek had no doubt someone was watching him. He could feel it just as he’d felt Campanelli’s presence in the hotel parking lot.

  It could have been him. After all, he’d told the man his name. But it wouldn’t be easy to track Milek to the condo. The deed was in the name under which he’d used to paint—the name he’d incorporated years ago. Koz. But Campanelli had the same connections he and Garek had; maybe he had been able to find someone who knew where Milek lived.

  Was Campanelli alive, though?

  Milek hadn’t seen his body in the parking lot. But that didn’t mean he’d survived their skirmish. He could have died later.

  Milek hoped not. He was worried the only way they might learn who’d hired him was from the man himself. He couldn’t be dead. Not yet...

  He glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed the lights on the street behind him. It was too early for there to be much traffic—especially in this area of the city. His was one of the only occupied buildings now.

  His instincts were right again. Someone was following him. It really could have been anyone—any member of his well-meaning family. When he’d returned their frantic voice mails, they had all expressed the same concern—not just for Amber and the little boy but for him, as well. They were worried he would get hurt.

  And probably not just physically.

  That was why Stacy had been so cold to her best friend. Because she loved him so much. He needed to tell his sister the truth—he’d always known the little boy was his—even though Gregory Schievink had tried to claim paternity. Along with mourning her best friend, Stacy had also been racked with guilt that she’d kept a secret from him.

  Apparently Amber had told her that she hadn’t wanted Milek to come back to her because she was pregnant; she wanted him to come back because he loved her. So she’d vowed Stacy to secrecy. That had been a lie, though. She’d told him and he’d rejected her.

  Had she lied out of pride? Or to protect him?

  If his family knew he’d never claimed his child, they wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know what he was capable of—they didn’t know the darkness he battled to keep at bay. The anger he could sometimes barely contain.

  He felt that anger now, as the lights grew closer. Every Payne Protection bodyguard was better than this at tailing someone. He wouldn’t have noticed them so quickly, and they wouldn’t have gotten so sloppy as to get too close.

  But then the other vehicle got even closer—as the truck nudged his back bumper. The seat belt snapped at his neck and chest, and a curse slipped through his lips.

  He was alone. Surely the person had seen him get into the vehicle by himself. Amber was the one Campanelli wanted. Not him.

  Unless he figured he needed to get rid of Milek so he’d be able to get to her...

  He wasn’t wrong.

  The only way someone would hurt Amber was after Milek was gone. He jerked the wheel and turned sharply onto another street. Tires squealed as the other vehicle followed the SUV. Milek knew this area well. He could lose his tail here.

  If he wanted to...

  He’d rather turn the tables, though. So he turned again—purposely down a dead-end alleyway. He wouldn’t be able to drive out. But he knew the area well. He could escape easily on foot—once he’d gotten a good look and maybe a shot at whoever was after him.

  But he’d only just opened the driver’s door when the truck turned into the alley, the lights shining at him—blinding him. Before he could focus, he heard the truck door open. Then gunfire erupted.

  If it was Frank Campanelli, he wasn’t carrying some revolver with a silencer on it. This was an automatic weapon firing so many bullets that Milek knew at least one was likely to hit him.

  Would he survive? Or would he leave Amber and their son without his protection, without ever professing his love?

  Chapter 8

  She could have gone to bed. After his eventful evening, Michael was certain to sleep in until late morning. And it was barely dawn now. But Amber knew sleep would elude her. And she hadn’t wanted to go into the master bedroom with Garek there—watching her so stoically. While he hadn’t said anything to her yet, she suspected he would have then. And she probably wouldn’t have wanted to hear it.

  So she busied herself in the kitchen. Not that Milek had much food for her to prepare. His refrigerator and cupboards were nearly bare. Maybe he didn’t spend much time at home. He had coffee, though. So she’d made that. And she’d scrounged up some old baking sup
plies. She refused to consider how old the sugar and flour might have been as she worked on a coffee cake. Baking had become almost therapeutic for her the past year, much to Michael’s enjoyment and her chagrin. She’d put on some pounds. But Milek hadn’t seemed to mind, when he’d looked at her, when he’d touched her...

  Her skin heated and tingled as she remembered his caresses. His kisses...

  She’d been right; it had been a bad idea to make love with him. Because now she couldn’t lie to herself that she’d exaggerated how good it had been between them...

  She knew it was better than good; it was incredible. And now it would be even harder for her to fight her desire for him. Maybe he’d felt the same way; maybe that was why he’d left.

  Surely Rus couldn’t be at his office yet. So where had Milek really been going?

  Something beeped, and she glanced to the oven. But it wasn’t warm enough yet for her to put the cake inside. Then she heard Garek’s deep voice and realized the noise had been his phone.

  “Hey...” There was that happiness she’d seen in his eyes and on his face; it was in his voice now along with love. She had no doubt the caller was his wife—then he cursed. “No! God, no!”

  Another reason she hadn’t tried to sleep was because of the fear she’d had over Milek going off alone. She’d known he was in danger—that helping her had put him in danger. She knew that fear had been realized before she even asked, “What? What is it?”

  Garek spared her a glance, his silver eyes as hard and cold as steel. Stacy might not hate her, but Garek definitely did. Then he went back to ignoring her and told his caller, “I know you will. I know. But be careful. And know that I love you.”

  It had definitely been his wife on the phone. And he was just as worried about her as Amber was Milek. He clicked off the cell and gripped it in a shaking hand.

  “What is it?” she asked again, her voice cracking with the emotion overwhelming her. “What happened?”

  His face flushed with anger, and he replied, “Someone just tried to kill my brother.”

  Panic pressed on her heart, but she forced herself to stay calm—to focus on the word he’d used. “Tried?” she repeated. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. “Is he all right?”

  Garek’s eyes narrowed as he directed his anger at her. “What do you care if he is?”

  “I care.” More than she should have—more than was safe for the heart he’d already broken. But she didn’t regret making love with him. She was glad that she had.

  Garek released a shaky breath and finally relented. He must have heard the genuine emotion in her voice, which had cracked as tears threatened.

  She blinked them back and studied his face—his handsome face that looked so much like his brother’s. But Milek had never looked as happy as Garek had earlier, not even when they’d been engaged. Maybe he really hadn’t loved her.

  Maybe it had all been one-sided.

  “Candace...” Despite the tense situation, his voice softened as he said the name. This was the woman he loved. “Was following Milek when someone forced him into an alley. Shots rang out. She’s trying to find him.”

  She couldn’t hold back the tears now. “So you don’t know if he’s hurt or worse. You don’t know...”

  Garek stepped around the island in the kitchen and pulled her into his arms. “I know,” he said. “I know Milek’s okay. He’s smart and tough. He’s okay.”

  Amber didn’t know if he was trying to convince her or himself. He wasn’t entirely certain his brother had survived. And if he hadn’t...

  Michael would never know his father. And she would never know if Milek had ever loved her...

  * * *

  Candace’s heart ached for the concern and fear she’d heard in her husband’s voice when she’d called to report the shooting. Maybe she should have waited until she’d known for certain what had happened to his brother. But she knew he’d want the news immediately—even if it wasn’t good. Or it wasn’t complete.

  She had no idea what the hell had happened—why Milek would have turned into the dead-end alley. He knew this area of the city better than anyone. Unless he’d thought he could trap the shooter.

  She’d tried. Her SUV was parked behind the truck, her windshield cracked from the bullets fired into it. She had ducked low to avoid getting shot, so she hadn’t seen where either man had gone.

  The driver’s doors of both vehicles stood open. Her gun clutched tightly, the barrel with the light on it in front of her, Candace inspected the alley. There were spent shells everywhere.

  But no bodies. No blood...

  How could so many shots have been fired but nobody hit? She touched her own face—surprised she hadn’t taken a bullet herself. Then a gun cocked near her, and she worried she might be about to.

  “Damn it!” the man cursed, his deep voice vibrating with anger.

  Candace’s breath shuddered out in relief and she whirled toward her brother-in-law. “Thank God you’re all right.” She holstered her gun and reached for her cell phone.

  Milek gripped his weapon tightly, swinging it around the alley as if ready to shoot at shadows. Could the man who’d tried to kill him be hiding in those shadows? Was he close yet?

  Instead of calling Garek, she texted: Found him.

  Technically he’d found her. He must have been hiding in those shadows, too. She looked at him but could see no gunshot wounds. He hadn’t been hit.

  She texted: He’s not hurt.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. He wasn’t hurt but he was certainly irritated.

  “Letting Garek know that you’re okay,” she said.

  “I heard you call him,” he said. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Garek and I don’t have any secrets,” she said. Not anymore.

  “The shooter could have heard you, too,” Milek pointed out. “You shouldn’t have even been here!”

  “You honestly thought we’d let you go out alone?” she asked. “Unprotected?”

  He snorted. “Of course not. At first I thought he was one of you...”

  She would have been insulted—had she not been so happy he was unharmed.

  “Did you see him?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “It was probably Frank Campanelli.” He glanced around again as if saying the man’s name might have summoned him.

  “We need to get out of here,” she said as she led him back toward her SUV.

  He pointed at the shattered windshield. “You’re lucky you didn’t get shot.”

  “He just fired a round at me—to keep me in my vehicle,” she surmised. “You were the one he was trying to kill.” She shuddered as she remembered all the shots fired. “You’re the lucky one.”

  * * *

  Milek didn’t feel very damn lucky. If he hadn’t dived behind the Dumpster, he probably would have been killed. If Candace hadn’t showed up as backup...

  Campanelli—or whoever had been in that alley—probably would have stayed until he’d made certain Milek was dead. While he appreciated the backup, Milek worried Candace could have been killed, too.

  He had to end this before he—or someone he cared about—wound up dead. He pushed open the door to Rus’s office, stepped inside and swung it shut behind him with such force that it slammed.

  “What the hell!” Rus exclaimed as he jumped behind his desk.

  His jaw was dark with stubble and his hair mussed. Milek doubted he’d gone home or gotten any sleep. “You look like hell,” he remarked.

  “Ditto,” Rus said. “You look like someone’s been trying to kill you.”

  “Someone has,” Milek agreed. But he was certain Rus knew as much about those attempts as he did. Milek wanted to know more. “I need to know everything you know about the case. I need to
see the official report about Schievink’s murder and whatever notes you wrote down about the attempt on Amber last year.”

  Rus’s chair creaked as he leaned back. “Why?” he asked. “You’re not a detective.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Milek said. “I can read a damn report.” He’d read the one about the desecrated graves easily enough.

  “I hope you’re not an idiot,” Rus said as if he had his doubts.

  Milek hadn’t slept and he’d been shot at so many times that his hold on his temper had frayed. His hand curled into a fist, and he nearly reached for the other man. “What the hell—”

  “You wouldn’t be the only one,” Rus said. “I might be an idiot, too.” Now the detective was all self-recrimination.

  Milek sighed. “Campanelli’s a pro. Don’t beat yourself up about his finding her or following you to the hotel.” The hit man had been around a long time; he knew what he was doing to kill and not get caught.

  “Campanelli is a pro,” Rus agreed. “So why’d he shoot at you?”

  Milek shrugged. “I’m in his way.”

  “But you’re not,” Rus said. “You weren’t with her when he shot at you just a little while ago.”

  No. But he should have been. With Campanelli determined to kill her, Milek shouldn’t have trusted her protection to anyone else. But Garek was his big brother. His idol. Garek had never let him down in the past, and he knew he wouldn’t now. His brother would keep Amber and Michael safe.

  Milek shrugged again. “So what are you getting at?”

  Rus pushed his hands through his already tousled hair; it looked as if he’d done that before—more than once. And his jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle twitched beneath the dark stubble on his cheek. He gestured at the cell phone sitting on his desk. “That’s been blowing up ever since the news learned Amber’s alive.”

  “And?”

  “The interim DA gave me a call,” he said.

  Milek wasn’t surprised. The woman was lobbying to be elected to the position she’d only been temporarily filling. She’d want to know enough about the case to issue a press release.