Kendall. Kendall Brody. He liked it. Unless it was Kendall Sandoval—he liked that, too.
He stepped into the shower and let the hot spray pummel his back. He still had Christina on his hands and lips. He turned to face the showerhead, grabbing the little bar of soap from the shower caddy. He lathered up his hands and washed away her scent, opened his mouth and filled it with water.
Who was he kidding? He’d never wash her away. And if he wanted to be a part of his daughter’s life, he’d have to find some way to work with Christina. He did want to be a part of Kendall’s life.
Even though he’d never wanted kids. He’d made that clear to Christina before they’d gotten engaged. She was fine with it—then.
Is that why she hadn’t told him about her pregnancy?
He cursed and aimed the spray of water at his face. Why was he making excuses for her? She’d gotten pregnant and had a baby, his baby, and never told him about it. How did you excuse that?
He finished his shower and got dressed. Standing in the middle of the floor, he stared at the door leading to Christina’s room. What now? They still had a case to solve.
His gaze shifted to his laptop on the table by the window. And he had a report to finish for Rich and the SFPD. Hell, maybe the SFPD could take over from here. They’d know the local witch scene better than he and Christina did.
Although she seemed to know more about her father’s coven than she’d let on—just another deception on her part. She was probably holding out on him so she could swoop in and solve the case by herself.
He twirled the chair around and straddled it, resting his chin on the back and skimming the words of his report.
He reached around the chair, brought up a search engine and typed in Kendall Brody. Did a two-year-old have an internet footprint yet? A Realtor and a weathercaster popped up. He tried Kendall Sandoval next and found a collegiate volleyball player. What did he expect to find? All of the answers lay on the other side of that wall.
The knock came and he closed out of the search engine.
“Yeah?”
“Can we talk now, Eric? If you don’t want to, I understand.”
He slid off the back of the chair and threw the door open. She’d replaced her high heels with flip-flops and her shorter stature made her look vulnerable and small. Probably calculated.
“Come on in.” He turned his back on her and retreated to the window. He tugged on the rod for the filmy white curtains and gazed into the bustling street below.
She remained standing, too, twisting her fingers in front of her. “I want to tell you why I kept Kendall from you—at first—because I always planned to tell you about her.”
“When you needed help with college expenses?”
She pressed her lips together. “Before that. I’m not gonna make excuses for myself, but we had decided we weren’t going to have kids, right?”
He nodded.
“You had some crazy idea that you wouldn’t be a good father because of your kidnapping experience, or maybe you were just afraid. I could never fathom the big strong Eric Brody being afraid of anything, but I saw what happened when you lost that kid.”
“Noah Beckett.” His shoulders ached with a heaviness he thought he’d shrugged off a year ago.
“I remember his name.” Her words were a whisper. “Noah’s death only convinced me further to keep my pregnancy from you. I know you blamed yourself for that debacle, but it was the Bureau, the Bureau’s policies, not you that caused Noah’s death.”
“When did you know you were pregnant?” His jaw felt stiff as he formed the words.
“I suspected just about the time the Beckett case ended.”
“That’s a pretty way of putting it.”
She flicked her fingers in the air. “Then I knew for sure after you discovered my notes, accused me of using you to write about your family and then dumping me. I found out for sure then.”
“And you didn’t get on the phone and let me know, why?”
She laughed, a hard and brittle sound. “Hello, Eric? You had just dumped me because you didn’t trust me, and now I was pregnant when I’d already agreed to your no-kids policy. Yeah, that would’ve gone over really well.”
“So? At that point, it was no longer about you.”
A shaky breath escaped her lips and she dipped her head, her long hair falling across her face. “I realize that. There was also the small matter of contacting you. You’d taken a leave of absence, dropped off the radar. Nobody knew where you were. Your brothers didn’t know, or you’d given them orders not to tell me.”
A ball of heat lodged in his chest. His loyal brothers.
“I returned. I returned to the Bureau.”
“You call working in South America on an undercover drug task force returning? I was supposed to drop that bombshell on you under those circumstances?”
“You have an answer for everything, Christina. You always did.”
Closing her eyes, she dragged a breath through her nose, her nostrils flaring. “Do you want to know about your daughter? See her pictures?”
“Of course.”
“Now you want a child because you have one?”
“Give me a break.”
Color flooded her cheeks, but she pulled her phone from her back pocket. “I have just about every stage of her life on my phone.”
“Then, thank God for cell phones.”
She perched on the end of the love seat. “D-do you want to join me?”
He took two long steps toward the love seat and sat on the cushion next to her. His weight made the sofa dip, and she tipped toward him, brushing his shoulder. He stiffened and she pulled away.
Holding the phone in front of him, she said, “First pics are from the hospital.”
The phone display came alive with a picture of Christina, her hair scooped back in a ponytail, smiling into the tiny face of a baby—his daughter.
He took the phone from her and held it up to his face, drinking in the little button nose and the wide eyes below a tuft of dark hair peeking from a pink cap.
He breathed out one word as his throat tightened. “Beautiful.”
“Her name’s Kendall Rose Brody.”
He twisted his head to the side. “Same middle name as my mother.”
“I know that.” She leaned over and swept her fingertip across the display. “Next.”
His little girl’s life flashed before him on the cell phone display. It was like time-lapse photography, watching her change from newborn to chubby-cheeked baby to a mobile creature crawling and scooting on the floor. She resembled her mother, but he could see his features in her. The pictures and Christina’s constant commentary filled him with longing...and resentment.
After she showed him the last picture, a dainty toddler in head-to-toe pink, hugging a stuffed white bear, he collapsed against the back of the love seat.
“She’s sweet and wonderful, and I want you to meet her as soon as we wrap up this case—if you want to.”
“Of course I want to see my own daughter. Whatever gave you the idea that I wouldn’t want to know my daughter? What gave you the right to keep her from me?”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, Eric.”
He closed his eyes, blocking out his daughter’s face and the years of memories he’d lost. “I was working on the report for Rich. I’ll email it to him tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good. I’d like to talk to Nigel today if we can find him.”
Back to business. “Do you still think he attacked you last night?”
“No, but he might know who Uma is, and since he seems a little less connected to the whole coven thing, he might be more forthcoming about what this coven has done that’s so bad and who’d want to take them out.”
“It just so happens,” he stated as he pushed up from the love seat and shuffled through the file on the desk, “I got his card last night.”
“Really?” She pocketed her phone and joined him at the table. “What does an old hippie do for a living?”
He flicked the card between his fingers. “He restores old books.”
“Interesting. I wonder if that’s what brought him into Libby’s shop in the first place.”
“Most likely. I’m going to get some breakfast and work on the report. I’ll give Nigel a call.”
On the one hand, he wanted Christina to ask to join him so he could grill her some more about Kendall, but sitting across from her would be hard. Before that phone call last night, they’d given in to the sexual heat that had been simmering between them for the past two days. The sex had been mind-blowing, and he’d been ready to take her again—before the phone call.
Her phone rang and she answered it, putting it on speaker. She didn’t have a need for any more private conversations.
“Hi, Mom. How’s Kendall this morning?” Her eyes met his as she talked on the phone.
“She’s good. I told you she wouldn’t remember much.”
She paused and held up her finger to him. “I told Eric about Kendall.”
That was obviously for his benefit, but it did make it more real.
“He’s eager to meet her, and yeah, he’s pissed off at me.” She raised her brows at him.
Was that to verify that he was eager to meet Kendall or that he was still pissed off at her? Right on both counts. He nodded.
“After this case. I’ll see if he wants to come down to San Miguel.”
She ended the call and faced him with her hands on her hips. “Do you want to?”
“Do I want to what?” He swung the chair around and tapped the keyboard of the laptop.
“Don’t pretend you weren’t listening to every word we were saying.”
“Guilty.” He threw up his hands.
“Do you want to come with me to San Miguel when this case is over to meet Kendall?”
“Of course. What does she know about me?”
“She just knows her daddy is busy working.” She bit her lip.
Maybe it was better if she didn’t sit across from him at the breakfast table.
“I’m gonna head out for some breakfast.”
“Okay. I’m going to grab a bagel from the coffee place downstairs, hit the hotel gym and take another crack at that case.” She turned at the adjoining door. “Let me know what happens with Nigel, okay?”
“Will do.”
She closed the door and kicked a stray shoe across the room. He wanted to get as far away from her as possible. But she didn’t blame him.
The Kendall slide show went over well, but it must’ve twisted the knife a little to see all that he’d missed.
It had all seemed so clear-cut two years ago. Now looking into Eric’s face, she didn’t know what she’d been thinking. Okay, so she’d ruined any chance she had of reconciling with him, but he seemed excited about meeting his daughter. Maybe he’d forgive her by the time Kendall got married.
She picked up the room and the evidence of a night of passion that had taken a wrong turn—actually had been derailed. Hell, it crashed and burned. But not before Eric Brody had satisfied every need she had and some she didn’t even know she had.
She headed downstairs to the lobby, keeping an eye out for Eric—just in case he changed his mind about breakfast.
She bought a banana and a bagel and perched on a stool at one of the high tables scattered around the coffee shop.
As she spread cream cheese on one half of the bagel, her phone rang. Was Eric lonely? She grabbed the phone, but the display showed a blocked number. She answered anyway.
“Christina, it’s Vivi.”
Christina’s pulse jumped. “Vivi, are you still in Mexico?”
Her sister clicked her tongue. “How did you know that?”
“I had someone track you down. I was worried about you after your friend, Darius, found me and told me you were missing.”
“Darius contacted you?”
“He was worried. Why didn’t you tell him where you were going?”
“I don’t trust anyone right now and neither should you. How did you track me down? Who found me?”
“My coworker’s brother. He’s a private investigator. Don’t worry. He’s not going to tell anyone where you are. What’s going on?”
“I was in danger, Christina. I’m fine now, but you’re not.”
“If you’re talking about this purge of Dad’s coven, I know all about the danger.”
“How do you know about any of this? You’ve never been involved before.”
“I’m working a case, Vivi.”
“Isn’t that a...coincidence?”
She knew Vivi didn’t believe in coincidences. “Yeah, it is. I work murder cases, Vivi.”
“Just be careful, Christina, and don’t believe everything you hear.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means there’s no reason for our coven to be targeted. There are always a few bad apples that taint the rest of us. There’s something else going on.”
Christina sucked a smudge of cream cheese from her finger. “What exactly have these bad apples been doing?”
Her sister whispered, “Black magic.”
Despite the tourists trooping through the brightly lit lobby and the customers lining up at the coffee shop counter, Christina felt a cold line of fear creep up her spine.
“What does that even mean, Vivi?”
“I’m not going to get you involved any further than you already are.”
“I am involved and if it helps me solve this case...”
“It won’t. You won’t. And the people on the other end of this thing? They’re not as appalled at the coven’s actions as they’d like everyone to believe.”
“What are you saying, Vivi? Help me out here.”
“Let someone else handle this case, Christina. Get off it. You’re exactly who they want.”
“Stop talking in riddles and give me some names.” The pause on the other end of the line went on for several beats. “Vivi? Vivi?”
She smacked her phone on the table. Why had her sister even bothered to call? She didn’t need a warning. She needed answers.
She finished her breakfast, tossed her trash in the garbage and then headed for the gym. She may not find the answers she needed on the treadmill, but at least she could work off some of this stress.
She returned to her room an hour later and sat down with the report. The words began to blur together. Come on, Olivia, where’s the weird stuff you were into? From all accounts, Olivia had lived and worked in Portland quietly as a waitress at an upscale restaurant—nothing strange in her background, no enemies.
Eric knocked on the inner door.
“It’s unlocked.” He may be keeping her locked out, but her room and her heart were wide-open to him.
He stepped into her room. “Are you hungry? We’re having lunch with Nigel in Chinatown.”
“Is he willing to talk?”
“He’s meeting with us, which is more than anyone else will do.”
“Did you tell him what happened last night after he left?”
“I figure we’ll surprise him and watch his reaction.”
“Speaking of surprises, Vivi called me from Mexico.”
“Was she able to clear up anything?”
She swung her legs off the bed. “Just made it murkier. She knows about the vendetta against the coven, but she’s not convinced it’s because someone’s trying to stop their evil ways.”
“She admitted that the coven was involved in som
ething evil?”
“She dismissed it as a few bad apples.” She snagged her purse from the coat hook by the door. “How’s the weather outside? Do I need a jacket?”
“It’s warm, and we’ll be walking to Chinatown.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Did Vivi explain why someone would be after the coven if not to stop them?”
“She was full of mysteries, but she implied it was because they wanted what the coven had.” She had no intention of telling Eric about Vivi’s warning to her. It would come across as an appeal for his protection. Not that she didn’t want or need it.
He snapped his fingers. “Power. It’s why he’s leaving that tarot card.”
They ambled down the hallway toward the elevator. If they didn’t keep talking about the case, they had nothing. She smacked the button with her palm. “Where’d you have breakfast?”
“That little outdoor café on the square. You?”
“Grabbed a banana and bagel downstairs and then went to the gym.”
“Any good? The gym?”
“It was okay. Lots of free weights.” She squeezed his biceps. “Are you still lifting?”
Dumb question. She’d seen his body last night in all its glory.
“When I get the chance.”
They both stared at the light blink through the floors and then started talking at the same time.
“You go.” She wiggled her fingers in his direction.
“I just wanted to ask if you talked to Kendall today?”
“No. Mom assured me this morning that she’d recovered from her nightmare. She’s pretty talkative for a two-year-old, but they’re still not great on the phone.”
“Do—do you ever talk to her over the computer?”
“Yes.” He wanted to see and hear his daughter. “Would you like to, I mean, do you want to sit in the next time I do?”
“If that’s okay.” The doors of the elevator opened and he wedged his arm against the doorjamb to keep it open for her. “I don’t want to freak her out or anything. I can stay off camera.”
“You wouldn’t freak her out.”
“Does she have these nightmares often? Sounded like it wasn’t the first time.”
“Every few months, but she forgets them quickly. It’s funny, I used to have them, too, so my mom tells me. I don’t even remember them.”
The District Page 14
