One Baby, Two Secrets

by Barbara Dunlop

  It was Friday, and everyone seemed to understand what that meant. There would definitely be another party. He knew she’d be there, trying to listen in on Bert and Ernie. She’d be wearing something sinful, sipping champagne, and men would flock to her by the dozens and make a play. It was all he could do not to toss them one by one into the pool.

  It was still afternoon, and he’d ducked into Quentin’s home office again to take another shot at his computer. Will thought there might be a secure link from the home computer to the Beast Blue servers. If there was, it could net them the evidence they needed.

  He heard footfalls in the hallway and froze at the keyboard. Just then, his cell phone rang. He swore under his breath, quickly jumping up from the desk chair, cursing himself for forgetting to turn off the ringer.

  He swiftly crossed the room, leaning nonchalantly against a wall and put his phone to his ear.

  The office door banged open, revealing Bert and Ernie. Both had their sport jackets parted, hands on the firearms in their holsters.

  “Hello?” Brody said into the phone, measuring his breathing and schooling his features.

  “Brody?” It was his brother Blane.

  “Hi.” He was always careful not to use names. He didn’t want to give out any hints to his true identity.

  “What are you doing in here?” Bert demanded, accent thick, while Ernie did a sweep of the room.

  Brody pointed to his phone, feigning impatience at the intrusion.

  Ernie checked the windows and the closet.

  “Brody?” Blane repeated.

  “Yes,” said Brody.

  Blane coughed into the phone.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Getting better,” said Blane. “Mother’s got herself in a flap about the community ball.”

  Brody inwardly sighed. “Of course she has.”

  “I know you hate these things.”

  “Get out,” Bert ordered Brody, pointing at the office door.

  Ernie moved to the computer, and Brody forced himself not to watch him. He didn’t want to telegraph his fear.

  “Tell her I’ll be there,” he said to Blane.

  “Will you?”

  “I think so. I hope so.” The ball was only two weeks away, so Brody really wasn’t sure.

  “Get out!” Bert repeated.

  Brody levered himself slowly away from the wall.

  Ernie was reaching for the mouse. If he brought the screen up, he’d see the computer had been turned on. It wouldn’t take a genius to know it had been Brody.

  Bert said something in Ukrainian, and Ernie looked swiftly up at him.

  Ernie answered back.

  “You know what’ll happen if you don’t show up,” said Blane.

  Brody knew his mother would be upset. But if things didn’t go well here, missing a ball would be the least of Brody’s worries.

  “I’ll try,” he promised his brother.

  Bert stormed forward, and his meaty hand clamped around Brody’s upper arm.

  Brody shook him off, giving the man a glare as he moved toward the door.

  “Gotta go,” he said to Blane.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You sound upset...”

  “Someone here is annoying me.” Brody glared at the two security guards. Then he moderated his tone as he passed through the doorway. “It’s no big deal. Can I call you later?”

  “No need.”

  Ernie shouted something in Ukrainian behind him, and a chill went through Brody’s chest.

  “What was that?” asked Blane.

  “Call you later.” Brody quickly ended the call.

  He turned, expecting to see their guns drawn and trained on him. But they were shouting at each other.

  A second later, he sensed another presence. He looked to see Kate standing in the hall beside him. Her blue eyes were wide. She was dressed in black leather leggings and a tight pink tank top. Her heels were spiked, the ankle boots shiny black.

  His brain flatlined.

  “What happened?” she asked in a nervous voice.

  He stepped in front of her, moving them both out of Bert and Ernie’s line of vision. “What are they saying?” he whispered to her.

  Her expression said she was concentrating.

  He tried to be patient. “Can you understand?”

  “Ceci again,” she whispered back.

  “What about her?”

  Kate listened. “She’s important. She’s here. Bert wants to... It’s not making sense.”

  “Did you get a last name?”

  “No, but they’re fighting about Quentin. Ernie wants to hurt him, and Bert wants to wait. Maybe Ceci is their sister?”

  “Did they say that?”

  “No. I’m guessing.”

  The voices stopped and Brody heard the men’s footsteps.

  He grasped her arm. “Let’s go.” He hustled her along the hallway, around the corner and into the kitchen.

  She glanced back around the corner.

  “Don’t look,” he hissed.

  She suddenly shrank against his chest. “They’re carrying guns.”

  “They’re security guards.”

  “They have guns in this house with a baby.”

  “They’ll protect her.”

  “I’m not so sure they’re even protecting Quentin.”

  Brody was beginning to think the same thing, but he wasn’t about to throw that possibility out on the table. “If they weren’t doing their job, Quentin would fire them.”

  She didn’t argue the point.

  As the immediate danger passed, he became acutely aware of her body against his, his arm around the curve of her waist. Her tank top was slinky and clingy, the pants were smooth, so smooth against his thighs. Her hair smelled like rich vanilla. It would take nothing at all for him to slide his palms up to her breasts, turn her, kiss her, peel off any and all of those silly, sexy clothes.

  He rasped a deep breath. He wanted very badly to sweep her into his arms and carry her off.

  She pulled away, breaking the contact, peeping around the corner again.

  He willed his heart to return to normal.

  “I think they’re leaving,” she said.

  He curled his hands into fists and ordered himself to get it under control. She was beyond complicated, and she was confusing on so many levels. His family’s future hung in the balance, and he was letting lust rule his brain.

  * * *

  After the run-in with Quentin’s bodyguards, Kate’s instincts told her it was time to take action. She didn’t trust Quentin, and she sure didn’t trust Bert and Ernie. Quentin might be irresponsible, but Bert and Ernie seemed downright dangerous. Brody was a puzzle, for sure. It was clear he wasn’t with Bert and Ernie. But it wasn’t clear he was with Quentin, either.

  Whose side was he on? And how many sides were there?

  Later that evening, from her hotel room, she dialed Nadia.

  “Hey,” Nadia answered. She was breathing hard.

  Since it was seven in the evening, Kate assumed she was out for a bike ride.

  “Where are you?” Kate asked, sitting down on the bed.

  “Coming through the university. Where are you?”

  “In my motel room.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Are you sure you can talk?”

  “It’s fine. It’s good. Talk away.”

  “Well...” Kate struggled to frame an opening. “Things keep getting stranger. And I’m worried. I’m really worried about Annabelle.”

  “What’s Quentin done now?”

  “It’s not just Quentin. It’s beyond
just Quentin. It’s everything.”

  “Define everything.”

  “To start with, there’s this guy named Brody. He’s figured out I’m interested in Annabelle.” Kate hadn’t yet worked out if Brody represented a danger to her ruse or not.

  “Will he tell Quentin?”

  “He said he’d keep it a secret if I’d spy for him.”

  There was a pause before Nadia spoke. “You may have to elaborate on that.”

  “Brody wants to know what the Ukrainians are saying.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re up to something. And they have guns. And they don’t get along very well with Quentin.”

  “Hang on. I’m stopping.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  “I’m stopping and sitting down.” The bike clattered in the background. “Okay. What on earth?”

  “Something tells me I should trust him.”

  “Brody, right? Not Quentin.”

  “Yes, Brody.”

  “Why would you trust him?”

  “Because he hasn’t blown my cover so far. And he seems smart. And at least he’s not armed, and he’s not doing recreational drugs.”

  “Well, there’s a resounding recommendation.”

  “I need to get Annabelle out of there. I’m starting to worry about waiting too long. It feels like things at the mansion are getting more tense by the day.”

  “Can you call the police?” Nadia asked.

  “I don’t have anything to report.”

  “The drugs?”

  Kate pulled her legs up onto the bed. “I’m afraid it won’t be enough. And it would tip my hand. And Quentin would probably refuse to let me see Annabelle again.”

  Nadia went silent.

  “That’s why I’m thinking about Brody,” Kate said. “He wants my help, so he might help me in return.”

  “Who are Bert and Ernie?”

  “The Ukrainians.”

  “They’re named Bert and Ernie?”

  “I don’t know their real names. Those are nicknames. Do you think I should do it or not?”

  “Trust Brody?”

  “Yes.” Kate’s heart rate sped up as she gave the answer. She realized how badly she wanted to trust Brody. She felt completely alone in this. And she was growing frightened for Annabelle. She needed an ally, and she desperately hoped Brody was the guy.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to tell me that my instincts are right.”

  “Well, to be honest—”

  “Yes, please be honest. I need you to be honest,” Kate said.

  “Since it seems like he already knows a big part of it, you don’t have a lot to lose, Kate.”

  “You’re right. What he doesn’t know, he’ll probably figure out anyway.”

  The risk was low, or at least most of it was already in play. That was what Kate wanted to hear.

  * * *

  The Friday party was well underway, with a crowd of people out on the pool deck and others in the great room and the kitchen. She looked for Brody, but didn’t find him. There was also no sign of Bert and Ernie.

  She was about to do another loop when she caught sight of Christina heading for the front door. She moved for a better view, curious about where she might be going, and she saw Annabelle, wide awake, gazing over Christina’s shoulder at the party all around them.

  It was nearly ten o’clock. Surely Annabelle should be asleep by now.

  Kate hurried to catch up. She made it onto the porch as Christina was opening the back door of a silver sedan.

  “Christina?”

  Christina turned at the sound of her name.

  Kate started down the stairs. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going for a drive.” Christina bent down to lay Annabelle in her car seat.

  “Where?” asked Kate in astonishment. “Why? Now?”

  Christina clicked the harness into place and tucked a blanket snugly around Annabelle.

  She straightened. “She does okay falling asleep during the week. But on weekends the music gets pretty loud in there.”

  Annabelle couldn’t sleep in her own room? Kate couldn’t believe it. Or rather she could believe it, but she found it appalling.

  “Have you talked to Quentin about the problem?” she asked.

  Christina coughed out what sounded like a laugh. “Uh, no.”

  “You don’t think he’d tone things down for his own daughter?”

  “I don’t think he’d stay still long enough to listen to the request.” Christina seemed to realize what she’d said, and she snapped her mouth shut, worry coming into her expression.

  “It’s all right,” said Kate. “I’m not going to say anything to him. I wish I could.” She wished if she did say something it would have a hope of making some kind of positive difference.

  “You must have guessed by now that he won’t change his lifestyle for anyone or anything.”

  Kate struggled to control her anger. “How does he expect this to work?”

  “He doesn’t care how things work. He pays other people to make things work for him.”

  Kate silently acknowledged the truth in the statement. Quentin’s development seemed to have been arrested in college. And he saw Annabelle more as a novelty than as a living human being.

  “Where are you taking her?” Kate asked.

  “Just out for a random drive. She likes the windy roads. They put her right to sleep.”

  “Doesn’t she wake up when you come back?”

  “We come back after the music stops.”

  “You drive around all night?” Kate couldn’t believe it.

  What about Christina? How did she get any sleep?

  “We’ll come back around three,” said Christina.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Christina gave a shrug, shutting the car door. “That’s reality.”

  Kate made a quick decision. “I’m coming with you.”

  She’d tried to find Brody, and she’d tried to find Bert and Ernie. Brody wasn’t the only person who needed information. Kate needed it, too. And Christina might be able to give her something she could use against Quentin.

  Christina took in Kate’s formfitting black-and-silver cocktail dress. “I have to say, it looks like you had a whole lot more in mind than babysitting tonight.”

  Kate waved a dismissive hand. “I’m only trying to fit in.”

  “Fit in with the ‘billionaires who want trophy wives’ club?” Again, Christina looked regretful. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep speaking out of turn.”

  Kate laughed. “I’m not vying to be a trophy wife. But it’s easy to see that’s how it looks.”

  “You seem so down to earth. I keep forgetting you’re one of them.”

  “I’m not one of them. I’m pretending to be one of them.”

  Christina looked doubtful, but didn’t dispute Kate’s assertion as she headed for the driver’s seat.

  Kate didn’t bother waiting for permission. She hopped right in on the passenger side.

  “You’re serious about this?” Christina’s hand hovered near the ignition.

  “Completely serious.”

  “So, you’re really not here trying to snag a rich guy?”

  Kate was realizing that she had to start being honest with the people who could help her. It was the only way she’d succeed.

  Christina seemed trustworthy. And she was in charge of Annabelle. Honesty seemed like the best path forward.

  “I’m only here because of my niece,” she said, just throwing it right out there before she could change her mind.

  Christina glanced into the backseat, and all v
estiges of friendliness vanished from her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “We might not have been close, but Francie was my sister. I owe it—”

  “So, her inheritance,” Christina said coldly.

  “No.” Kate quickly shook her head.

  “I get it. You want to set yourself up to control Annabelle’s money.”

  Annabelle began fussing.

  “I don’t know that Annabelle has any money.” Would Annabelle inherit money? It seemed like Quentin had gone to some trouble to protect all of his assets from Francie.

  Christina was still frowning.

  “That’s not what I mean at all,” Kate said.

  “I should have known.”

  Annabelle’s cries grew louder.

  “You’ve got it wrong,” Kate said. “Please, just go ahead and drive. Let her sleep. I’ll explain.”

  Christina didn’t look happy. But she did pull away from the curb.

  It took Kate about half an hour to walk Christina through the family history, her job in Seattle, her recent arrival in LA, and her plan to imitate Francie as a party girl in order to check on Annabelle’s welfare. She hesitated, but left out her ultimate decision to try to prove Quentin was an unfit father.

  After Kate stopped talking, there were a few minutes of silence.

  “That’s really nice,” said Christina, a slight quaver in her voice. “I’m so glad Annabelle has someone who cares about her.”

  Kate immediately felt guilty. She hadn’t meant to sound self-righteous. “You’ve done a whole lot more for her than I have.”

  “A nanny’s not the same as family.”

  Kate gave in to an urge to reach over and cover Christina’s hand. “You were here. I wasn’t.”

  Christina glanced over at her, eyes shiny in the passing streetlights. “You’re here now.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Christina gave a little laugh. “I never would have guessed, not in a million years. I thought you were just like her.”

  “Then I’m a better actress than I expected.” Kate couldn’t help thinking about some of the exchanges between her and Brody. She knew she’d been convincing, but she hadn’t been able to fool him. At least not for very long.

  “What are you going to do now?” Christina asked.

  “I’m figuring that out,” Kate said as they passed by hedges, porch lights and manicured lawns through the Hollywood Hills. “I don’t suppose you know anything about Brody Herrington.”