by Silver James
“You gonna fill me in?”
Gabe ignored him. Nick checked out the surroundings—bungalows and a farmette gave way to luxury villas. They rode in silence, headed toward the Gulf with its rolling breakers. Rossi stopped the cart outside a villa that backed up to the beach. He finally turned to stare at Nick and after a moment, said, “Theodor Vasile.”
Nick frowned. “That’s quite the mouthful.”
“The man’s a son of a bitch. Romanian. Rich.”
“Mob?”
“Maybe.” Gabe stared at the front door of the villa. “Probably.” He jutted his chin toward the structure. “There’s a girl inside. I think Vasile is hunting her.”
“You think?” Nick didn’t like the sound of that. “Just what is this favor, Rossi?”
“What I said, Karras. If things shake out like I believe, I’ll need you to fly her somewhere else. She’ll have new papers. A new start.”
“This girl. Who is she? Vasile’s mistress? She turning state’s evidence or something?” Which didn’t make sense. The Feds would be taking care of her business if that was the case.
Gabe appeared to ponder his questions before indicating “no” with a headshake as he climbed out of the cart. “Don’t think so, but you need to find out her story. Her name is Peony Comanescu.”
Before Rossi could continue, the front door opened and a large black woman trundled out, a baby on her hip. What the hell was going on? Gabe jumped out and stepped forward.
“Mr. Gabe,” the woman said, shoving the squirming infant into Rossi’s arms, much to the other man’s surprise—and trepidation. “I need your cart. That girl, she’s got no diapers. No nothing. I’m on a mission.” And just like that, she jumped in the golf cart, glowered at Nick until he clamored out, just managing to snatch his luggage a moment before the woman zoomed off.
Rossi looked bemused then seemed to remember Nick was standing there. “Here.” He held out the baby.
Nick backed away, palms facing the other man in a stay-away gesture. “I don’t know nothin’ about no babies, Rossi, and you didn’t say anything about kids.” Okay, there was more than a little note of accusation in his voice, but damn. He didn’t sign on for kids.
“Gabriel! Come inside.”
A voice Nick recognized from the background of Rossi’s phone call demanded attention. Dragging his feet, Nick followed the other man under the arched columns and inside. The villa was even more luxurious than the outside advertised. Cool. He could hang out here for a few days while Gabe did his thing. They left the vestibule and entered the main living area. Nick’s feet stalled out and he came to a complete halt as he got a look at his assignment.
She was pretty. Really pretty. Long hair, sun-kissed brown, the kind he liked to wrap around his fists as he controlled a bedmate. This assignment was looking better and better. He put the brakes on again when he noticed a second baby, held by an old man who had to be related to Gabe.
The girl turned to face him and she was even prettier than what her profile hinted. Maybe the kids weren’t hers. Nick removed his aviator sunglasses and offered her a grin that faded as she stared in horror, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her eyes rolled back in her head and Nick found himself hurdling the couch to reach her before she hit the floor.
“What the hell, Rossi!”
Chapter 2
“IS SHE HURT?” The man Nick figured out was Rossi’s grandfather peered down at him.
Nick had kept the woman’s head from slamming against the granite coffee table as she fainted, and now he held her cradled in his lap as he settled against the cushions of the couch. Nick ran his fingers through her hair, checking her skull for bumps. None. He glanced between the two men. “Don’t think so, but what the fu—”
“Babies,” Uncle Nino barked. “No bad language. From either of you.”
Seriously? Like rugrats even understood speech at this age? Whatever age this was. His fingers tangled in the woman’s hair and he gently extracted them, taking the rubber band she’d used to fashion a ponytail with them. Her long hair was lank and tangled, like she hadn’t brushed it—or washed it lately. Her dress was a shapeless cotton thing that only hinted at the curves he was fast becoming acquainted with. Her sweet ass molded against his groin like she’d been tailor-made to fit. Her figure was…fucking perfect. Full breasts—not huge but enough to fill his palms and spill out a little around the edges. A gentle curve from waist to hips, which his hand was stroking over even now. There was nothing fancy about this woman, nothing that would suggest she belonged in these luxurious surroundings.
Staring at Gabe, Nick waited for an explanation. He got a quick run-down while Uncle Nino interjected points he considered to be salient—like the lack of diapers and other accoutrements babies evidently needed. What the hell did Nick know? He was an only child and had made damn sure he’d never made any of his own. Uncle Nino handled the baby he cradled like a pro. Rossi? Nick hid a grin. Rossi looked like he was holding an IED about to explode.
Yeah, when it came to holding babes, Nick had the best of this deal. Still, the fact someone tried to kidnap one of the kids and this woman seemed both destitute and terrified? That pissed him right the hell off. He wasn’t necessarily a white hat, but a man didn’t disrespect a woman like this. And they damn sure took care of any “oops” when they fucked up the fucking. That was his line in the sand.
“So this Vasile guy? What’s up with that?”
Rossi continued staring at the baby in his arms as he explained. “I’m on some…mailing lists for lack of a better term. Dark web stuff. Got a message about a missing person. A nanny who kidnapped Vasile’s son.”
The woman in his arms stirred and he petted her back. “Shhh, babe. I’ve got you.”
She stiffened and her eyes fluttered open. Nick all but drowned in their green depths, reminded vividly of the Brazilian jungle he’d flown over not long ago. She stared at him and damn if he couldn’t almost taste her fear. What the hell had happened to her? She huffed out a tiny sigh that might have been relief but she didn’t relax as she said, “You aren’t him.”
Him who? He had a deep need to find out now. “My name is Nick. Nicholas Karras. I’m here to help.” Yeah, if the white hat fit, he was gonna wear it where this woman was concerned.
“Pe…” She clamped her lips shut and he watched her scramble for a name not her own. Yup, this woman was running scared all right.
“You can trust us, Peony,” Gabe said, stepping closer. The man looked like he was tiptoeing through a minefield.
“I can’t trust anyone.”
She sounded utterly hopeless and her admission slashed across Nick’s chest, leaving a burning ache in its wake. Still, he believed in facing trouble head on. “Seems to me like you don’t have much of a choice, sweetheart.” A hard shudder rocked her and Nick automatically tightened his arms. She pushed against him, trying to put distance between them, but he didn’t release her.
Gabe tried again. “I did some checking. Seems a very powerful man is looking for you, Peony, claiming you kidnapped his son.”
Her face blanched and she trembled. “No, no. That is not true. I didn’t kidnap Luca. He is my son.” She reached for the baby Uncle Nino held. The old man surrendered the infant without hesitation. She nuzzled the baby’s head and cuddled him close. When she held out an arm for the second baby, Gabe relinquished custody post haste.
Nick’s lap and arms were suddenly full of luscious woman and babies—that smelled of talcum, a scent that also clung to their mother. One fussed and started rooting around her chest. She gazed at him over the top of the baby’s head. “I need to feed her.”
He froze. That was way more information than he wanted, especially since he’d just been admiring her curves.
Uncle Nino came to the rescue. “Here, give me the boy—”
She tensed and pressed back against Nick’s arm and he could almost see the light bulb go off over Nino’s head.
“I think I begin to s
ee what a—” The old man cut off whatever he was going to say. Nick figured it was probably along the lines of what he was thinking about the father—mother-effing son of a bitch. “This man who is after you. He wants only the boy, yes?”
Nick felt the shiver and quick intake of breath before she nodded.
“And the one who caught you at the Publix, he had the boy. You fooled him.” She nodded again. Nino’s face creased with a huge smile. “This one, he is safe here. So is his sister and you, little mama. Come with me. I will hold him while you…” The old man mumbled something in Italian.
She passed over the boy. “His name is Luca.” Nino held Luca while Gabe helped her stand, the second baby still in her arms. “And this is Luiza.”
Nick was off the couch a second later. He trailed after them as Nino guided her to the only bedroom in the villa, opening the door while she slipped through—the door which the old man promptly shut in his and Rossi’s faces. He glared at Gabe, who glared back.
“What the fuck, man?”
“I heard that! That will be five dollars in the jar.” Poppy sailed in like a Navy destroyer, her arms full of bags. “All the deliveries came. Go empty the cart.” She flicked her hand at him and Gabe like they were pigeons she was shooing out of her way.
He and Rossi retreated in the face of the woman’s determination. The golf cart was loaded to the fringed canopy. Boxes. More bags.
“Carry it all inside,” Poppy ordered. “Then I will take the cart to go get tools.”
Rossi eyed her with suspicion, as did Nick, but Gabe beat him to the question. “Why do you need tools, Poptart?”
She rolled her eyes at the nickname. “I don’t, Mr. Gabe. You and Mr. Nicholas will.”
Nick exchanged a look with the other man. “And why will we need tools?”
She waved toward the boxes. “Pack ’n Play. Stroller. You don’t expect that little girl to put them together, do you?”
As soon as Poppy disappeared back inside, Nick fixed Gabe with an evil-eyed glare. “I repeat. What the fuck, man?”
“I heard that too,” Poppy called from the door. “You owe me another five dollars.” She appeared and withdrew a large glass jar from the bag slung over her shoulder, which she shook at him. “That mouth around these babies? I should be chargin’ you double.”
Nick glanced at Gabe, who merely shrugged and said, “I write her a check at the beginning of the month. She’s supposed to refund anything left over at the end.”
“Yeah? How’s that workin’ out for you?”
“Last month, I had to write another check.”
Nick pulled out a hundred dollar bill and dropped it in the woman’s jar. “Let me know when that runs out.”
Poppy gave him a gimlet glare and Nick offered his most winning smile. She harrumphed and walked away. “I know your kind. I’ll be watchin’ you.”
Uncle Nino patted Nick’s shoulder as he entered the villa. “That woman, she has eyes in the back of her head. You better be careful.”
He grimaced but glanced toward the closed bedroom door. Peony. He said her name in his mind. Peony. Like the flower. The name fit. “How long are we stuck here?” Nick directed the question over his shoulder to Gabe.
“Waitin’ on the paperwork for the new IDs. Once we have that, you have a go to take off into the wild blue yonder, flyboy.”
“Roger that, boss.”
“And when it comes to Poppy’s jar?” Gabe also glanced at the bedroom door and lowered his voice. “Just keep payin’ the woman. It’s easier.”
****
AN HOUR LATER, Nick sat in the middle of the living room surrounded by metal rods, netting, straps and more nuts and bolts than there were holes. There were other parts he had no name for. Hell, he didn’t have a name for the thing he was trying to put together. Poppy called it a Pack ’n Play, whatever that was. It had bins and shelves and a mattress and a baby holder doohicky for changing diapers and didn’t that just make him want to drink another beer. He’d jerry-rigged airplanes and helicopters in emergencies but he was stumped over this shit.
The two Rossi men deserted him right after reading the instructions, Poppy hot on their heels. He’d managed to put the double stroller together. He’d figured out the resort-provided crib—with the judicious application of duct tape, but this play thing? It totally defeated him. He dropped the screwdriver and levered himself off the floor. Time for another beer. Or tequila. It might be time to haul out the big guns.
Why did babies need so much stuff? They ate. They slept. They shit. He grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and hitched his hip on a barstool while he contemplated his options—options that had nothing to do with all the paraphernalia strewn across the villa. He swallowed a big swig. How did parents manage all this? Nick glanced toward the closed door to the bedroom. How the hell did a single mom do it? With twins, no less.
Then there was this whole gig. Nick’s instincts were jumping around like fleas on a stray dog. How had Rossi tracked him down? Any pilot could fly this girl and her kids to wherever they were going. Now he was acting as bodyguard, sky chauffeur, and husband. Yeah, that last little tidbit had been dropped in his lap as Rossi hot-footed out the back door before running off down the beach. While they were staying at the villa, Nick and the girl were to portray a happily married couple and new parents because, evidently, an unmarried woman, twins, and the aviator-glasses-wearing special operator would raise suspicions.
The bedroom door opened and the girl slipped out. She froze when she saw Nick sitting at the breakfast bar. He winced inwardly at her look of panic.
“Peony, right?” He said her name pronouncing all the syllables in a soothing voice.
The girl schooled her expression while inhaling deeply. “Most people call me Peni. You are to be my…?”
Nick tried his flirty smile. Her face didn’t change so he sobered while still attempting to look friendly. “I’m Nick…Nicholas. I’m your ticket out of here once we know where you’re going. I’m a pilot. I’m also your bodyguard and according to Rossi, your pretend husband for the duration.”
She paled and he thought she might faint again. He’d taken three steps toward her before he recognized she was terrified. Of him? Why?
“Easy, hon. I won’t hurt you.” He held his hands low. “Why are you scared of me?”
“You…he…” She inhaled, closed her eyes, and then words spilled out. “You look like his…the man who does his dirty work.”
“The asshole who attacked you in Naples?”
Eyes open now, she nodded but didn’t come any closer. Her fingers twisted the material of her dress. Nick tried again.
“You may not believe this, but it’s the truth. You have friends here. I’m here to help but we’re all in the dark about your situation. Other than the fact you need our help. Will you tell me what’s going on?”
She shivered and stepped back. She reminded him of the stray dog that hung around Bagram Air Force Base in Khandahar. The animal had been beaten and starved before it appeared at his quarters. Nick spent weeks making friends by leaving scraps and just sitting nearby. Eventually, the dog accepted that the men living there meant him no harm, and Scruff became their mascot. This extreme patience came from the space deep inside that he’d cultivated in response to certain sexual interests he occasionally enjoyed when the right partner came along.
Moderating his voice, he glanced toward a second barstool. “Will you sit down? I’ll get you something to drink and we can talk. Okay?”
Nick backed up, and keeping the breakfast bar between them to ease the young woman’s nerves, he headed to the fridge. Like that stray, she crept over to the stool and eased up on it.
“How about some orange juice?” At her nod, he pulled a glass carafe from the top shelf, found a glass and filled it. He slid the juice toward her but stayed on the kitchen side of the bar.
“The man who’s hunting you—”
“Mr. Vasile.” She spat the name like it tasted bitter.
Gabe had been right. Now Nick needed to know why she was on the run, and how she’d gotten involved. She had a slight accent—one that came out at odd times. Was she an American? Or had this Vasile asshole brought her into the country on a guest work visa or some sort of bullshit like that? He reached for patience and schooled his voice to sound concerned but noncommittal. “Will you tell me why you’re running?”
“The story’s a long one.”
He offered his charming smile, the one with the dimple as he leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles. “They usually are. And I seem to have a lot of time to listen at the moment.”
Peni sipped her orange juice and stared toward the door to the bedroom. “I don’t quite know where to start.”
“Wherever you feel comfortable, hon. To help you, we need information—the whys and the whos.”
She almost smiled at that, her gaze still focused in the direction of her children. “I wasn’t supposed to have two babies. Just one. A son. But there were two. Mr. Vasile said he would take my baby boy, would say he was the only baby and his heir. Said he would…take care of the…what did he call her? The spare. Yes. Like the English monarchy. The heir and a spare. Mr. Vasile, he didn’t much mention the second baby, only to say she’d be taken care of. But I was scared.
“He kept me at his house after he found out; wouldn’t let me go home. He’s a very rich man with lots of servants but none of them would help me, no matter how I much I begged and pleaded. Cezar—” Peni glanced at him. “He’s the one who tried to take Luca. Cezar always took me to all the doctor appointments. He was the one who…” Her voice thickened. “He told me he would take my daughter and drown her like a bag of unwanted kittens.”
Nick growled under his breath. What the hell kind of man threatened a pregnant woman like that? He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans so Peni couldn’t see his fists. He forced air into his lungs and waited for her to continue, fully aware that if he spoke, he’d probably scare her even more. He wanted to go to her, hold her, but he remained rooted where he was for the same reason.
