The Baby Contract

by Barbara Dunlop

“Would you?”

  He took the chair cornerwise to hers. “I’ve got no claim on moral fortitude.” He made the decision to toss it back out on the table. “I kissed an employee this morning.”

  Mila didn’t look up from the laptop. “She kissed you back.”

  “Vegas deleted the footage.”

  She nodded. “I really wasn’t thinking about cameras.”

  “I’m always thinking about cameras.”

  She did look up then, an expression of skepticism on her face.

  “Maybe not in that precise moment,” he admitted.

  He hadn’t been thinking about anything but her.

  “If the video got out, I’m not sure who it would be worse for, you or me.”

  “Worse for you inside Pinion. Worse for me anywhere else.”

  She gave a considered nod. “That sounds about right.”

  “I do have moments of intelligence.”

  For some reason, she glanced sharply up. “You have nothing but intelligence.”

  The compliment surprised him.

  “That’s why I’m here, Troy. I want to learn from you. I looked at all of my options and realized you were the guy with the most to teach me.”

  Something flipped over in Troy’s stomach. Her expression was open, honest and heart-haltingly gorgeous. And he couldn’t think of anything more gratifying than teaching her everything he’d ever known about security and everything else.

  But he couldn’t let himself go there. He couldn’t teach her the trade. He’d be teaching her how to die.

  Five

  In the wings offstage, Mila scrolled through the messages with hashtag KassidyKeiser and KassidyRocks. It was exciting to see them coming through by the minute, but disconcerting to try to keep up. She breezed past the comments on Kassidy’s singing, her choice of songs and tonight’s outfit. Mila couldn’t help but smile at the female fans’ oohs and ahhs over the sexily unkempt drummer.

  Coming up on midnight, Kassidy was gyrating her way through the second set. The club was full again, with a line on the sidewalk outside. There were Kassidy Keiser posters on the wall, and they’d even printed some Kassidy Keiser drink coasters. Mila had a feeling that the nanny’s salary was not going to be a problem much longer.

  Eileen arrived by her side.

  “T-shirts,” she said to Mila in a loud voice above the guitar solo. “I’m ordering T-shirts and hats.”

  “Did you print the coasters?” Mila asked.

  Eileen nodded. “And the posters.” She pointed to the nearest one. “See the pattern of the purple spotlights?”

  “I do,” said Mila.

  “I’ve got a graphic design company using that and a silhouette of Kassidy’s profile to come up with a logo.”

  “Nice.”

  “It always helps when the talent is gorgeous.”

  “Kassidy is definitely pretty.”

  It was covered up most of the time with funky hair, exaggerated makeup and wild clothes. But Kassidy was a very beautiful young woman.

  “She’s going all the way,” said Eileen.

  Mila scanned the crowd. Everyone was on their feet, pressed up close to the stage. She was willing to bet they’d broken the fire code a few hours back. The club had to be making a killing.

  She glanced back down at her phone, continuing through the endless stream of texts. Then a word popped out and she halted her thumb, scrolling backward.

  A text from someone called MeMyHeart said, Drake’s one lucky little boy.

  A few pictures had been posted by fans online of Kassidy with Drake in his stroller. People could easily assume she was his mother. But to find his name? That would have taken a significant level of investigation.

  Mila tapped MeMyHeart, finding a dozen other messages from the past hours. Judging by the message content, MeMyHeart was here. She scanned the audience, but it was dark and chaotic. Everyone out there would have a cell phone.

  Her heart rate had kicked up, and her instincts told her to call Troy. But she stopped herself. Slow and methodical, that was still the best course of action.

  Instead, she called Pinion’s main number, getting Edison.

  “It’s Mila. Can someone check a cell number for me?”

  “What’s the reason?”

  “They’re tweeting about Kassidy, and it looks suspicious.”

  “Can do,” said Edison. “Forward the tweet.” He rattled off a number.

  “On its way.” She continued her visual scan of the audience, checking for expressions that seemed too intent on Kassidy, maybe not so much into the music.

  “Hang on,” said Edison. “Everything else okay there?”

  “The place is rocking.”

  Edison chuckled. “Don’t tell the boss I said so, but his sister is smokin’ hot.”

  There was a crackle on the line, and then Edison’s tone abruptly changed.

  “Vegas wants to talk to you,” he said.

  “Sure,” said Mila, moving slightly back in an effort to get away from some of the noise.

  “It’s a burner,” said Vegas.

  “The phone?”

  “Whoever sent the tweet used a burner phone. But they’re close, within a two-block radius, probably there.”

  “You read it?”

  “Yeah. You want backup?”

  “I’m not pressing the panic button,” said Mila. “It could be nothing. I’ll get as many pictures as I can.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Fantastic. You want me to bring you a Kassidy Keiser coaster?”

  “No, thanks. But I’m picking you up.”

  “I’ve got my car.”

  “I’ll tail you.”

  Mila hesitated. She didn’t want to hand things over to Vegas just when they got a little interesting. But she didn’t want to take chances, either. Her goal was to protect Kassidy, not to show off for Troy.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’m parked beside the stage door. I’m driving—”

  “I know what you’re driving.” Vegas sounded vaguely insulted.

  Mila wasn’t sure how to respond. She decided to let it drop. “There’ll probably be a crowd.”

  “I’ll see you out there.” He hung up.

  She focused again on Kassidy, noting the almost imperceptible croak to her voice. She’d put in a really long night, singing some of her toughest songs. Her skin shone with sweat, and her heavy makeup was starting to crack along the edges. Her hair was messy, but then, it had started the evening that way. Unless you knew her well, it was hard to tell the difference.

  Mila switched her attention to the crowd, raising her phone and snapping a multipanel panoramic shot. Then she focused on men who appeared to be alone. She made her way down the short staircase onto the floor, moving to the back, surreptitiously taking picture after picture. She slipped through the front entrance, nodding to the bouncers, and took in the crowd on the street.

  By the time she made it back inside, Kassidy was bowing to a thundering ovation. Kassidy skipped her way offstage, blowing kisses to the audience, and the house lights came up a notch. Purely from the point of Kassidy’s obvious exhaustion, Mila was glad they were skipping the encore tonight.

  She pocketed her phone and jogged up the stage stairs, then along back of the curtain and down the dark, narrow hallway to the small dressing room. She took note of all the faces she was passing by, at least vaguely recognizing each of them as staff members.

  The dressing room door was open, the space elbow to elbow. Eileen seemed excited, talking to Kassidy and one of the backup band members.

  “Six months,” said Eileen. “A trial on both sides.”

  The band member—Mila remembered his name was Arthur—spoke directly to K
assidy.

  “What do you say, babe?”

  Kassidy grinned. “I say we do it.” Then she spotted Mila. “Hey, Mila. We’re gonna sign a contract with Bumper. Eileen’s putting together the tour.”

  Mila wasn’t surprised by the news. Eileen had been talking about a tour all week long. Bumper was a solid backup band, and continuity obviously made sense for Kassidy.

  “You ready to go?” Mila asked.

  Kassidy heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I have to.”

  “You look tired.”

  “I’m not. But it’ll take a while to get to the car. Did you hear from Gabby or Troy?”

  They’d found a nanny in Gabby Reed, who had started work two days ago.

  “No news is good news,” said Mila.

  Kassidy slung her bag over her shoulder. “Catch you guys later,” she called.

  The three band members waved their goodbyes.

  “Call me when you get up tomorrow,” said Eileen.

  “Toodle-oo.” Kassidy waggled her fingers as they made their way toward the door.

  Mila went first, cutting through one end of the kitchen to the delivery entrance. There she pushed open a steel door that led to a small concrete staircase. The alley behind the building was wide and decently lit, and a cheer came up from the assembled crowd that surged forward as Kassidy exited.

  She put on a big grin and waved to them.

  There were more people than last night, and Mila braced herself. She waded into the crowd with Kassidy on her heels. It was slow going. Fans stuffed papers and pens into Kassidy’s hand and stuck their faces next to hers for selfies.

  Mila’s gaze darted from face to face, checking out body language and noting the objects in everyone’s hands. Cell phones mostly, CDs, pens, nothing so far that looked dangerous.

  Her gaze snagged on a thirty-something man with neat hair and a mustache. He was scowling, frowning at the people jostling around him. He looked out of place in a blazer and tie. But then she checked his hands and saw he had a CD.

  “Mila?” Kassidy’s voice sounded shaky behind her.

  Mila whirled to find a large man squeezing Kassidy close, taking a picture of the two of them together.

  Mila swiftly inserted herself between the two, elbowing the guy in the solar plexus, temporarily knocking the wind out of him. She looped an arm around Kassidy and threaded her way swiftly through the crowd toward the car.

  Vegas met her halfway there, taking up a position on the other side of Kassidy.

  “You two okay?” he asked as they keep moving.

  “Under control,” said Mila, hitting the button to unlock her SUV.

  Without slowing her momentum, she reached out and pulled open the passenger door. She propelled Kassidy neatly into the seat and locked the door behind her.

  “Is this normal?” Vegas asked as they rounded the front of the vehicle.

  Flashes went off as fans took pictures through the vehicle windows.

  “This is more people than usual,” said Mila.

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  She turned to put her back to the driver’s door. “I did say something. I told Troy the crowds were building. I told him her popularity was growing. And I recommended, on more than one occasion, that we formalize a security plan for Kassidy. He thought I was bucking for a full-time job.”

  “You are.”

  “I am. But that doesn’t change my assessment of the situation.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” said Vegas.

  Mila tried to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Because if a man says it, it has to be true?”

  “Because I’ve got no skin in the game. Part of your job, Mila, is to make Troy listen when he doesn’t want to listen.”

  “You don’t think I’ve tried.”

  “Obviously not hard enough.”

  She told herself to control her temper. “You’re asking the impossible.”

  “No, I’m asking the difficult. Did somebody tell you this job wasn’t difficult?”

  Mila counted to three. “No.”

  “Then, suck it up, princess. There are no awards for effort in this game.”

  “I’m not asking for an award.” She understood that results were the only thing that mattered.

  “Good,” said Vegas.

  “This is the biggest crowd so far.” She scanned the sea of people. “It’s the first time anyone’s mentioned Drake. It’s the first time Kassidy has been nervous. And I’ll be making a full report to Troy in the morning.”

  “You do that,” said Vegas, his tone completely even. He glanced past her to where Kassidy sat in the passenger seat. “I’ll follow you back.”

  Mila turned to the driver’s door and used the key instead of the button, not wanting to risk unlocking Kassidy’s side.

  As she levered into the seat, she struggled against her disappointment. This had been a chance to impress Vegas. It was his company, too, and she got the sense that he was more open than Troy to hiring a woman. But she’d blown it.

  Technically, she hadn’t done anything wrong. But it was clear he thought she’d been sloppy. He thought she’d let the situation get out of control.

  She slammed the door behind her, locked it, then gripped the steering wheel, swearing once under her breath.

  “You okay?” asked Kassidy.

  “Fine,” said Mila, starting the engine. “You?”

  “That was wild.” Kassidy seemed more exhilarated than upset.

  “I’m going to talk to your brother tomorrow. We definitely need some help.”

  “Where did Vegas come from?” asked Kassidy.

  “I called him earlier.”

  “He seemed ticked off.”

  “He thinks I screwed up.”

  “You? How on earth did you screw up? You’re the only one helping me. You want me to talk to him?”

  Mila pulled the vehicle into Drive. “No. No. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Seriously, Mila. If he’s bein’ a jerk.”

  “He’s not being a jerk.” The last thing Mila needed was Kassidy jumping in to defend her. “He was just surprised. I don’t think he was expecting this kind of a crowd.”

  Kassidy gazed out her window as they cleared the alley and turned onto the street. “Neither was I.” She gave a little giggle. “That was awesome.”

  “It was awesome,” Mila agreed. “You were terrific onstage tonight.”

  “I’m really lovin’ the guys from Bumper. I’m glad they want to stick around.”

  “Who wouldn’t want to stick around? You’ve got to be the best thing that ever happened to them.”

  “They’re a really good band.”

  The SUV picked up speed, and the streetlights flashed by.

  “It’s a weird thing in the music biz,” Kassidy continued. “A singer can be good, and a band can be good, but the combination can really suck. Or, apart the two are decent, but together they’re fantastic. It’s like complementary smells. You put cinnamon and sugar together, it’s magic. Sage and butter, all good. But try sage and sugar, and it’s yucksville.”

  Mila smiled at the analogy.

  Kassidy covered her mouth with a yawn. “Do you like Gabby?”

  “I do,” said Mila, having become used to Kassidy’s sudden changes in topic. The new nanny seemed very calm, very soft-spoken, but also very organized.

  “What about Troy?” asked Kassidy.

  Mila tensed. Why was Kassidy asking about Troy? Had Mila given herself away? She had tried to keep her emotions under wraps, been careful not to gaze at him, attempted to keep at least an arm’s length between them.

  “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.

  “Do you think he like
s Gabby?”

  Gabby? Was Troy attracted to Gabby? Mila hadn’t even thought of that. Gabby was youngish, fairly attractive, not glamorous, more down-to-earth. Which was fine. There was nothing wrong with being down-to-earth.

  “In what way?” Mila asked.

  Kassidy stared at her for a moment. “As a nanny.”

  “Oh.”

  “What did you think I meant?”

  “That’s what I thought you meant.”

  “Did you think I meant like, like?”

  “No, no.” Mila determinedly shook her head.

  “I don’t think Gabby is at all Troy’s type. He’s always been, well, a player, really. He likes women tall and blonde, with long legs and high heels and fashions straight off a Paris runway.”

  Mila didn’t care. She truly didn’t care what the heck Troy liked in women. The farther she was from his type, the better. Though he had seemed to like kissing her. So, well, he wasn’t completely immune to her as a woman.

  Not that she wanted him to see her as a woman. She wanted him to see her as a security agent. No more, no less. That was all she wanted.

  “Wait a minute,” said Kassidy, a trace of excitement in her voice. “Are you interested in—”

  “No!” Mila realized her protest was too quick and too sharp. “No. I work for him. That’s all. Nothing more.” She needed to get this right. “Hey, would I dress like this if I wanted him to notice me as a woman?”

  Kassidy seemed to give it some thought. “Good point. Those boots? Wow. Give me a break.”

  Mila couldn’t help but glance down at her feet.

  She should have felt relieved, but she couldn’t stop a twinge of disappointment. They were work boots, that was all. She had to dress sensibly to do her job. Surely Troy understood that.

  Then she realized she was acting as though she cared. She didn’t. Troy’s opinion of her as a woman was completely irrelevant.

  * * *

  Mila finished her tradecraft exam with thirty seconds to spare. She clicked the done button and a scroll bar appeared at the bottom of the screen, counting off the time while the machine calculated her score.

  The door to the small meeting room opened and Troy walked in, shutting it behind him.

  He leaned against it. “Vegas says you downplayed the risks last night.”