The Baby Contract

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Will you two stop shouting?” Kassidy broke in.

  Then he heard it. Drake was crying in the bedroom.

  “Thanks a lot,” said Kassidy. “I was hoping to get a cup of coffee first.”

  Troy experienced an unexpected and unwanted shot of guilt. It was his apartment, for goodness’ sake. He wasn’t allowed to raise his voice in his own apartment?

  “I’ll get him.” Even as he made the offer, he wondered why he was doing it.

  Maybe just to get away. Maybe to put some distance between him and Mila. He sure needed it.

  For a while there, he’d thought making love to her would get things out of his system. He thought that if he stopped wondering about it, stopped speculating on what it would be like, stopped imagining her naked, he could stop obsessing over her.

  That was a mistake. Making love to her was better than he could have imagined. She was more beautiful than he’d ever dreamed. The obsession wasn’t gone. It was worse now than ever.

  He paced his way across the living room, finding Drake in the dim bedroom, up on his hands and knees in his crib bawling his eyes out.

  Troy gently lifted the baby, cradling him against his chest, stroking his hair.

  “Poor thing,” he crooned. “Who wants to wake up all alone in the dark?”

  He laid the baby down on top of the dresser, which was the makeshift changing table. He’d gotten pretty fast at changing a diaper. Though Drake fussed, it was over quickly, and he was back in Troy’s arms.

  Troy patted Drake’s back as he left the bedroom, heading for the kitchen and a bottle of formula.

  “Who wants to wake up all alone in the dark?” he repeated in a soothing undertone, even as he pictured his own empty bed. “I wish I could tell you it gets better, little guy. But life is full of long, long, lonely nights.”

  Nine

  Mila was working with two new pieces of information from last night’s performance, and Vegas had assigned her a desk in the bullpen. Sitting next to Charlie, an irreverent, handsome twenty-something and the newest employee of Pinion, she was beginning to feel more like a member of the team.

  Charlie didn’t seem to have Troy’s bias against women. He’d worked the street outside the club last night, photographing all of the black SUVs in the vicinity. Now he was working through facial recognition databases with the best picture she’d taken of the blazer guy. If they could get a name, they might match it to a license plate.

  The man had been right up front by the stage this time. She’d been tempted to talk to him, but the last thing she wanted to do was tip her hand. She’d checked with the bartender, but the man hadn’t bought a drink. Too bad—a credit card receipt or a glass with fingerprints would have been nice.

  At the same time, she didn’t want to fixate on him. She hadn’t seen him send any messages last night, yet Kassidy had received seven from both MeMyHeart and BluebellNighthawk.

  It could still be someone else.

  She was reviewing another long list of messages when something caught her eye.

  “Hang on,” she said to Charlie.

  There were three other agents working in the room, creating a backdrop of telephone conversations, newsfeeds and the hum of equipment.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking up from his monitor.

  “It’s on the MeMyHeart account. He says the usual stuff—she’s beautiful, talented, looks good in pink. He does seem to have a thing for pink. But get this: ‘when we’re reunited, all together again, and you are my own.’”

  “Creep level of about four,” said Charlie.

  “I’d give it a five. But here’s the thing, the words all together again. Does that sound like more than two? Together again would be two. All together is more.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe three?” She sorted her way through possibilities.

  “Could be,” said Charlie.

  “Drake makes three.”

  Charlie looked up at her.

  Mila quickly went back to her computer and scrolled through MeMyHeart’s previous posts.

  He’d mentioned Drake. He’d mentioned the baby more than once. Could he have meant the three of them all together? He’d also used the word again. Had the three of them somehow been together in the past?

  A shiver ran up her spine. Could blazer guy have something to do with Drake? Were they coming at this backward? Could Drake possibly be the conduit to Kassidy?

  She brought up blazer guy’s picture and hit print. She had to show it to Kassidy.

  “I’m going upstairs,” she told Charlie.

  “You got something?”

  “Just a hunch. I won’t be long.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  She went for the printer. “Find me a name for blazer guy. That’ll make my day.”

  “Working on it.”

  She paused with the printed picture in her hand. “Thanks, Charlie.”

  He looked puzzled. “Just doing my job.”

  “I mean, thanks for treating me like one of the guys.”

  He gave a small smile. “You are one of the guys.”

  The words warmed her heart.

  He went back to his work. “I’ll call you if anything comes through.”

  “Thanks.”

  She was on the third floor, and she took the stairs to nine, knocking on Troy’s apartment door.

  While she waited, she realized that it could be Troy who opened the door. It was almost noon, and he often had lunch in the apartment. She hadn’t seen him since their disastrous lovemaking. She hoped she wasn’t about to see him now.

  What would she do? What would she say? More importantly, what would he do, and what would he say? Would he ignore it as she’d asked? Would he allude to it? Would he make a move?

  If he made a move, she’d absolutely call him on it and tell him in no uncertain terms to keep his hands to himself. She wasn’t about to become the boss’s plaything.

  As she thought about his hands—what they’d done to her, what they could do to her—her skin heated up and a gleam of desire began in her core. The man had magic hands, magic lips, magic—

  The doorknob rattled, and she braced herself.

  But it was Kassidy who opened the door.

  Mila told herself she was relieved.

  “Hey, Mila.” Kassidy was jiggling Drake in her arms.

  The baby grinned when he saw Kassidy, holding out his arms and leaning toward her.

  “Oh, sure,” Kassidy chided with a smile. “Go to Auntie Mila. Never mind that I’m the one who feeds, changes and rocks you to sleep.”

  Mila lifted Drake, settling him against her hip while he cooed and grabbed at the leather bag strap on her shoulder.

  “Got a minute?” she asked Kassidy.

  “You bet. Want a coffee? Gabby’s making pancakes, breakfast for me, lunch for Drake. Have I told you that I love her? I love, love, love her.”

  Mila laughed. Kassidy had been singing the nanny’s praises ever since she was hired. “You may have mentioned it once or twice. Drake eats pancakes?”

  “Mostly he plays with them. But a little bit gets ingested.”

  “Yes to the coffee. No thanks on the pancakes.”

  Kassidy led the way to the kitchen. “What do you want to talk about?”

  Mila extracted the picture of blazer guy from her shoulder bag. “Does this man look familiar?”

  Kassidy accepted the picture.

  “Hi, Mila,” Gabby greeted from where she stood over a frying pan, flipper in hand.

  She was in her early twenties, good-humored, down-to-earth. She had a diploma in early childhood education and had just become engaged to a chiropractor. She was willing to work flexible hours, and Drake adored her
.

  “Was that at the performance last night?” asked Kassidy.

  Mila had been careful to keep Kassidy from getting unduly worried or upset. So she hadn’t shared a lot of information with her.

  “I saw him texting a few times that coincided with messages you received. It’s a bit of a long shot, but if there’s anything you can tell me about him?”

  “Vaguely familiar,” said Kassidy, squinting at the picture. “If he’s been up front at the stage before, I probably remember him from that.”

  Kassidy handed the picture back and reached for Drake. “Come to Kassidy, sweetheart. Are you hungry?”

  Gabby handed Mila a cup of coffee.

  Mila inhaled the aroma. “Thanks.” She took a drink.

  Kassidy sat Drake in his high chair, fastening a clean bib around his neck.

  “One more question,” said Mila. It was even more of a long shot, but she wanted to be completely thorough on the Drake angle.

  “Sure,” said Kassidy.

  “Did you know Drake’s father?”

  Kassidy froze. The color drained from her face.

  “Kassidy?”

  “No,” Kassidy said brightly, giving Drake’s shoulders a squeeze and smoothing his fine hair.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “You faltered there.”

  Kassidy looked up. “It was a rough time. The guy was a one-night stand. And then Drake’s mom got sick. The whole thing was very upsetting.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Mila, but her brain was ticking about a hundred miles an hour.

  There was something about Drake’s father, something that had Kassidy worried. It was an outlandish theory. But could the stalker be Drake’s father? Could blazer guy be Drake’s father?

  Mila finished her coffee and headed back to the bullpen.

  Charlie was gone, but Troy was staring at her monitor.

  Her chest tightened at the sight of him. Her pulse jumped and butterflies formed in her stomach.

  Troy looked up, his expression smooth and professional.

  She schooled her own.

  “This is from last night?” he asked.

  She moved to where she could see the screen. “Yes. That’s the blazer guy I said I thought was suspicious.”

  “There’s something...” said Troy.

  “What is it?”

  “He looks familiar.”

  “You know him?”

  That was significant.

  “I can’t place him.” Troy picked up the phone and dialed. “Take a look at the picture up on Mila’s computer.”

  “Who’s that?” she asked.

  “Vegas,” Troy told her. “Anything?” Troy said into the phone. Then he waited for a moment. “I’ve come across him somewhere before. Why can’t I remember? It’s definitely been a few years.”

  Another moment passed.

  “Are you sure?” Troy asked Vegas. “Yeah. This might be something completely different. I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone.

  “What?” asked Mila.

  “I know that guy. This might have nothing to do with Kassidy. It could be about me.”

  Mila wrapped her head around the theory. It was possible. The same way the Drake link was possible. She hated having so many tenuous threads.

  “Kassidy might have crazy fans.” Troy rose and started for the door. “But I’ve ticked off some very dangerous people over the years.”

  Mila followed, coming at Troy’s theory from as many angles as she could muster. “Why target her?”

  “To get to me.”

  “There are easier ways to get to you.”

  “Not really. I’m cautious. I’m prepared. I’m always armed.”

  “I don’t mean get to you as in harm you. I mean upset you.”

  “I’m pretty upset.”

  They made their way down the hall to Vegas and Troy’s office.

  “It started when she was in New Jersey.”

  “So?”

  “So, the two of you were estranged. You said yourself, you only saw her once a year.”

  “She’s still my half sister. I’ve always stepped up when she needed it.” He marched through the office doorway. “She’s in my building. She’s in my apartment.” He spoke to Vegas. “We need to do a full sweep.”

  Mila looked for flaws. The notes to Kassidy were personal. The writer seemed to be obsessing about her and Drake, not about Troy.

  “Where does Drake fit in?” Mila asked.

  “He’s incidental.”

  “He’s mentioned in the posts. You’re not.”

  “So what? He’s part of her life, part of my life. This is a whole lot bigger than a rabid fan.”

  Vegas was on his cell, heading for the door.

  “Don’t let Kassidy out of your sight,” Troy called to him.

  “I’ll go,” said Mila.

  “I want Vegas.”

  “I can handle it,” said Mila, moving to follow.

  But Troy grasped her arm to stop her. “This is above your pay grade.”

  “Excuse me?” She tried to shake him off, but his grip was tight.

  “I’m not leaving this to you. You’re inexperienced, you’re temporary, you’re—”

  “Female?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. You’ve said it a thousand times.”

  “This isn’t about you being a woman.”

  “This is all about me being a woman. It’s another of your knee-jerk reactions.”

  He glared at her in obvious anger.

  “This might be about you,” she allowed. “But it could still be about Kassidy and Drake. It could even be all about Drake.”

  “Drake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Based on what? Evidence? Facts? Because I definitely recognize the guy. That means he’s somewhere in my past.”

  “You don’t remember where. It could be anywhere. Don’t ignore everything else.”

  Troy’s jaw tightened.

  “There’s a very good chance you’re wrong,” said Mila.

  They stared at each other, their gazes locked. Emotions raced through her—frustration, annoyance, anxiety, exasperation. At least it wasn’t sexual attraction. She had that going for her.

  “Are you looking to get fired?” he ground out.

  She kept her stare level and steady. “I was never hired.”

  “Kassidy likes you. That’s the only thing you have going for you. You can stay and follow my orders, or you can leave, right now.”

  Mila wanted to leave. She’d take great emotional satisfaction from turning on her heel and walking away.

  But that wouldn’t help Kassidy. And it wouldn’t help Drake. They were innocent in all of this. If Troy was wrong, if he fixated on the wrong problem, the two of them could be in real danger.

  It was better to stay and do what she could, everything she could, even if it meant going behind Troy’s back, following her own leads and risking his wrath.

  * * *

  Later in the week, Vegas sat in a leather armchair in Troy’s living room. He had a computer printout in his hand, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. “I warned her not to sleep with you.”

  Troy stared back, anger warring with disbelief.

  “Maybe I should have told you not to sleep with her.”

  “She told you that?” Troy was shocked to think Mila might have confided in Vegas.

  “She didn’t have to tell me a thing.”

  “Then you’re guessing.”

  “Your judgment is clouded.”

  Troy’s gaze flicked to the closed do
or of Kassidy’s room. Mila was with her in there. She’d chosen to stay, and she’d agreed to take direction from Troy.

  “My judgment is fine,” he said.

  “Why did you do it?”

  Troy decided to brazen it out, force Vegas to put his cards on the table, if he had any cards. “What makes you think I did?”

  “You might as well have worn a neon sign Sunday night. Jovial, relaxed, satiated. Too bad it didn’t last.”

  Troy had no interest in this conversation, but he wasn’t going to lie, either. “It was a mistake. It’s over and done. It has no bearing on this.”

  “You don’t want her to get hurt.”

  Troy felt the jab directly in the center of his chest. “I don’t want anybody to get hurt.”

  “Especially not her.”

  “Can we end this conversation?”

  Vegas shifted his leg and leaned forward. “Problem you’ve got is, it wasn’t about sex.”

  Troy sat up straight. “I’m serious. This conversation is done.”

  “You have feelings for her.”

  “What do I have to do to shut you up?”

  “You’re protecting her.”

  “I’m protecting Kassidy.”

  “You’re protecting Mila. It was bad enough when she was just another woman, just another Gabriela—”

  “Shut up.” Troy rose to his feet, his stomach twisting into a knot.

  Mila wasn’t Gabriela. But she was a woman. And Troy had learned from Gabriela. He had to have learned from Gabriela. Otherwise, Gabriela had died in vain.

  Vegas set down his report and stood more slowly. “She’s an asset.”

  “She’s a person.”

  “So am I. So are you. So are Edison and Charlie.”

  Troy glared at him. “She’s not like Edison and Charlie.”

  “Trust her,” said Vegas. “You like her. You want her. I know you admire her. Now you’ve got to trust her.”

  “I won’t kill her.”

  “This isn’t about you.”

  “You’re right. It’s about her, and what’s best for her. And what we do, who we are, is not best for her.”

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  It was. Troy could decide to hire her, or he could decide to let her go. Letting her go was safe. Hiring her was fraught with risk.