by Lisa Childs
“You didn’t need to bring me home,” she said. “I could have driven myself.”
“You’re not staying here,” he informed her. And that was probably why he had refused to let her drive herself. “You’re picking up whatever clothes you need for that party tomorrow night…”
Every year Viktor Chekov threw a Christmas party for all his employees and associates at the club. Candace had been ordered to attend as Tori’s bodyguard, but he’d wanted her to dress like a guest—not a bodyguard.
He had looked at her then as if imagining what she looked like beneath her clothes. She had barely resisted the urge to shudder in revulsion. Not that she actually thought the man found her attractive; he had probably only done it for Garek’s reaction, which he’d carefully guarded.
But she’d seen the flash of annoyance on his handsome face. And something else…
Jealousy?
He reached across the console and squeezed her leg again. “After you get what you need here, we’re going back to my house.”
Not his apartment.
His house.
She wanted it to be theirs—to be their home someday. But first they had to survive this assignment. Then they would be able to find out if they could survive each other. His fingers trailed around her thigh, between her legs.
Her breath caught as desire overwhelmed her. She wasn’t sure she could wait until they got back to his house.
“We could stay here tonight,” she offered—because she wanted him now.
He chuckled but reached for the door. Cold air blasted her as he opened it. Then she opened her door and stepped into the snow that the wintry wind whipped around them. The icy flakes stung her face and trapped her breath in her lungs.
He wrapped his arm around her for warmth and possibly protection as they hurried toward her lobby. “Maybe we should stay here,” he murmured, his breath coming out in white clouds. “It’s miserable out…”
The lobby was only marginally warmer. She reached for the button of the elevator, but he shook his head and led her toward the stairway. She had been a bodyguard longer than he had, but he was better at the job—better at protecting people. Stairwells were easier to escape than elevators—in case someone was after them.
“Why would he have hired me if he is the one trying to kill me?” she wondered aloud.
Garek glanced at her. “You were totally convinced Viktor was behind the attempts. What’s changed? Has Rus gotten to you with his paroled felon theory?”
“If Chekov really wanted me dead, he could have killed me today,” she said, “in his office.”
Garek shuddered. “Maybe he knew Rus and Milek were close.” That was the only reason he’d stopped protesting her going alone to meet his former boss and current client. “They would have come in had you’d been in there any longer.”
He had come to her rescue instead. And he continued to protect her, placing his body between hers and every door that opened onto the stairwell. When they reached her floor, he stepped out in front of her, his weapon drawn.
She could have been offended he was trying to take care of her—as if she didn’t know how to take care of herself. Instead she felt something she had never felt before—cared for. His protectiveness and concern touched her heart almost as deeply as his honesty had. She was the one who always took care of and protected others. He was the only person in her life who wanted to protect and take care of her.
As they neared her door, he gasped. And she drew her own weapon. But there was no one else in the hallway. “What is it?” she asked.
He gestured toward her door. And she saw it had been treated like his apartment door had been. It hung from a broken jamb. He pointed for her to step back. But she was no longer touched or flattered. She was pissed. So she followed him through the broken door.
And she gasped now—at the chaos inside. Her apartment had been totally tossed—furniture overturned. Even her dishes had been knocked out of the open cupboards and lay in shards on the floor. Her gun drawn, she headed down the hall to her bedroom. Her clothes lay in a pile on the floor—the fabrics torn into pieces.
Garek shook his head in disbelief. “This is crazy,” he murmured, “even for Viktor.”
“It must be a warning,” she said. Maybe that was what everything else had been—just a warning to not go after him, to not try to find evidence for his conviction. It was probably the only reason she wasn’t dead. He hadn’t wanted to kill her—either when he sent the men after her or put that gun against her head himself. “He’s warning you to not betray him.”
Garek shook his head again—not totally convinced. “We should call Rus.”
“And what will he do?” she asked. “It’s not as if we don’t already know who’s responsible.”
“This isn’t like Viktor, though,” Garek said.
She turned toward him. “Really? I was there when he had his guys break into your apartment this same way—smashing the door down.”
“But they didn’t touch anything inside,” he reminded her. “They didn’t even search the place.”
Which was fortunate for her since they would have found her hiding in the bedroom. Unless they’d already known she was there…
“Maybe he sent the men I shot the other night,” she said. Because this assault on her apartment was definitely personal and vengeful.
Garek shuddered. “You’re right. There’s no reason to call Rus right now. Let’s get out of here.”
She glanced around at the chaos that had once been her home. Growing up as a military brat, she had never gotten attached to any place before, and she wasn’t attached to this apartment either. But her things…
She sighed.
“There’s nothing to salvage here,” Garek said. “You’re going to need all new stuff.”
She had never gotten attached to things either. Every move had been a purge for her family. Out with the old. In with the new. She didn’t have keepsakes like Penny Payne’s Christmas tree of sentimental ornaments.
She wanted that, though.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “There’s nothing here for me.” But him…
He caught her hand and led her back out of the apartment, back down the stairwell to the lobby. Before they stepped onto the street, he squeezed her hand and regretfully murmured, “I’m sorry…”
“Why?” she asked. “You didn’t do it.”
“It was because of me, though.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “Maybe Agent Rus has been right after all.”
And even Garek had thought that level of destruction out of character for Viktor Chekov.
“Maybe this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me,” she said.
But he stared at her doubtfully. “I would consider it a possibility if not for how the door was broken down.”
It was too weird a coincidence. It must have been Chekov—playing with them some more.
“Let’s go…” she said and wanted to add home.
But she held the word inside just like she had held in the other words when they’d made love. She was more scared of expressing her feelings than she was of whatever game Chekov was playing with them.
But then they stepped onto the street and gunfire erupted. And as Garek went down, she wished she’d said all the words. She wished she had told him how much she loved him. But all she could do now was scream.
Chapter 19
“The bullet in your leg matches the one that killed Donald Doornbos and Alexander Polinsky,” Nicholas said. It was the only good thing that had come of the shooting outside Candace’s apartment building. They knew the gun was still in play.
So maybe Nicholas’s special assignment could be salvaged yet. Maybe Viktor Chekov could finally be arrested and actually convicted. If he could trust the man Nick had enlisted to carry out the assignment didn’t kill the mobster first…
Garek shook with fury, or maybe it was standing on his injured leg that had him wobbly. He glanced down at his b
andaged thigh. “The bullet’s not in my leg anymore.”
“You shouldn’t be checking yourself out yet, though,” Nicholas said. While he was lying low so nobody spotted the two of them together, he’d heard the doctor warning Garek to take it easy while he’d lingered in the hall outside the private room. He had waited until the doctor had left to slip inside and close the door.
Not that Garek’s cover hadn’t already been blown. Why else would someone have tried to kill him or Candace? And it had been more than once. If not for that bullet matching the gun’s ballistics, he would have cancelled Garek’s assignment and pulled him out.
“We have to end this now,” Garek said. “Eventually Chekov’s common sense will overtake his arrogance and he’ll get rid of that weapon.”
Nicholas was surprised the notorious mobster hadn’t. But then everything about this assignment had surprised him.
“I didn’t think it would go like this,” he admitted. With an eyewitness willing to testify, he had thought he would have a slam dunk open murder case for a grand jury and then a jury—once he recovered the murder weapon. And he’d thought a man like Garek Kozminski—a former thief and former associate of Chekov’s—would easily recover that murder weapon. “I didn’t think you’d get hurt.”
Garek snorted. “I’m not hurt.”
“You took a bullet in your leg,” Nick reminded him. But maybe he shouldn’t have. He didn’t want Garek backing out of the assignment now—not when they were so close. But Chekov was close, too. “Three gunmen ambushed you and Candace when you left her building. You could have both been killed.”
“We’re not the ones in the morgue,” Garek said.
Two of the gunmen were while the third had gotten away; he must have been the one who’d had the gun. The weapons recovered at the scene had been tested and hadn’t matched—like the bullet from Garek’s leg had.
“We’ll find the other guy,” Nick vowed.
They had to in order to recover the weapon—unless he’d brought it back to Chekov already. Hopefully he had because Nick needed that gun discovered in Chekov’s possession.
“We’ve already identified the dead men,” he told Garek, “and we’ll track down their known associates.”
“Was Donald Doornbos one of them?” Garek asked.
Nick nodded.
“Any connection to Chekov?”
Nick sighed. “Who in River City doesn’t have a connection to Chekov?”
“Thanks to your assignment—nobody anymore,” Garek said. “Payne Protection has him as a client.”
Regret had Nick flinching. Penny was right. The family would never forgive him if something happened to one of them. Fortunately nobody knew about the shooting last night outside Candace’s apartment. At least he didn’t think they knew because he had received no outraged phone calls.
And Garek was alone at the hospital.
“Where’s Candace?” he asked. The two had seemed to be inseparable until now.
In order to protect whatever was left of Garek’s cover, Nicholas hadn’t gone to the scene last night, but he’d been told she hadn’t been hurt. Garek had probably taken the bullet meant for her. Or maybe the bullet had been meant for him. Maybe Chekov was already aware Garek was really working for the Bureau.
Should he call off the investigation?
Garek glanced at his watch and sighed. “Candace is Christmas shopping with Tori Chekov.”
“Alone?”
“Milek is nearby,” Garek said.
It was an FBI investigation; there should have been some agents on protection duty. But Nicholas could understand Garek not trusting any of them—because it certainly appeared Viktor Chekov was somehow aware of the investigation.
Why else had he gone after the man trying to take him down? Actually what Chekov had done was even more diabolical, he’d gone after the person who mattered most to Garek Kozminski: Candace.
“Should we call this off?” he asked.
Garek tensed, then laughed. “Why would you ask that now?”
“Because it’s gotten dangerous as hell,” Nick replied. “And it’s clear your cover was probably compromised.”
Garek shrugged. “It may have been. Or it may be Chekov is just a sick bastard. We still have a chance of putting him behind bars. We need to take that chance.”
“You’re the one taking chances,” Nick said, “with your lives.” And he was afraid the risk might be too great—Garek and Candace might not live till Christmas.
*
Candace hadn’t wanted to leave him—wounded and alone at the hospital. But she was also so mad Garek had been shot she didn’t want the man responsible to get away with it. He had already killed and hurt enough people.
Even his own daughter…
“Garek told you,” Tori said as she pushed hangers back on a rack of dresses.
“What?”
“You know about Alexander,” she said. “I can see the sympathy on your face.”
She hadn’t realized she was showing any sympathy. Worry, anger, exhaustion…those were all the things she was feeling now. It hadn’t helped that Tori had dragged her through every store in the entire mall either. At least the woman had let Candace teach her some self-defense maneuvers before the shopping trip.
“Don’t pity me,” Tori said defensively.
After last night—after Garek had taken a bullet right in front of her—probably for her—Candace could sympathize even more with what Tori had gone through when her lover had been shot in front of her.
Fortunately for Candace, she hadn’t lost him. Garek had managed to get back up, and he had returned fire with her. And before she’d left the hospital, the doctor had assured her that he would be fine. The bullet had done no real damage to his leg.
“I don’t pity you,” Candace assured her. “I’m sorry…”
“Sorry he told you?” Tori asked. “Now you can’t hate me?”
“I don’t hate you,” Candace said.
“You didn’t like me, though.”
She didn’t like her any more now. She just understood her better. And she also respected how quickly the woman had caught on to the self-defense maneuvers. Tori Chekov was smarter and stronger than Candace had initially thought.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t like me either,” Tori said. “What woman would actually like the old girlfriend of the man she loves?”
Candace didn’t deny her feelings for Garek but she didn’t admit to them either. She needed to declare her love directly to Garek before she confessed it to anyone else.
Tori took one of the dresses from the rack and held it against Candace. “This is it,” she said. “And blue is Garek’s favorite color.”
Candace didn’t know Garek’s favorite anything. While she had learned a lot about him recently, Tori Chekov had known him longer. And she was making it clear to Candace.
She shook her head. “I’m not shopping for me.”
Tori Chekov was supposed to be Christmas shopping, but all she had done was shop for herself. Until now—until she’d taken this sudden and unsettling interest in Candace’s wardrobe.
“You need a dress for the Christmas party,” Tori said.
Candace cocked her head. “How do you know I don’t have one?”
She would have worn the red one she’d worn to the club that night—and to last year’s Payne Protection Agency’s Christmas party—but it lay in tatters on her bedroom floor.
Tori shrugged. “You don’t seem like a cocktail dress kind of person.”
“I was wearing one the first night I came to the club,” Candace reminded her.
“But you can’t wear that anymore.” Tori bit her lip to stop herself as her face flushed with color.
“You know about my apartment,” Candace said. “You know it was broken into and my things destroyed.”
Tori grimaced. “I’m sorry…”
“Did you hear your father order someone to do that?” she asked. “You could testify to it, too
.”
“Too?” Tori asked. Anger flashed in her dark eyes. “Garek did tell you everything…”
And Candace agreed with his conviction that Tori wasn’t likely to testify against her father—even after he had killed the man she loved. They needed to find that gun. They needed to see their plan through.
She took the deep blue velvet dress from Tori. “It is a pretty color.”
“It’ll look beautiful on you,” Tori said as she grabbed a gold dress and held it up against herself.
“And you’ll look beautiful in anything,” Candace said—because Tori Chekov was one of those women who probably would have looked stunning even in army fatigues.
But she couldn’t hate her. All she could do was promise her, “We’ll make sure there’s justice for Alexander.”
Tears filled Tori’s dark eyes, and she nodded. “Thank you…”
Last night she had been tempted to call off the assignment—to let Chekov scare them off. But then she’d gotten angry and determined to put him away for the rest of his life. She was even more determined now to follow through on the assignment. She just hoped no more lives were lost—especially not hers or Garek’s.
*
Wincing against the twinge of pain in his leg, Garek hobbled across his living room. He leaned over and plugged in the extension cord for the lights, setting the tree to twinkling and glowing. Then he took a present from his pocket and slid it under the tree.
Candace wasn’t the only one who had gone Christmas shopping. He had made a stop on his way home—at his sister’s store. He only hoped he had a chance to give the gift to Candace—that they survived the assignment.
Stacy had apologized for involving Candace and for doubting him. His gut tightened even now as he remembered her tears and her concern when she’d seen his leg. He’d been concerned, too—that she knew the truth. That everyone knew about his undercover assignment. If Chekov didn’t already know, he was bound to find out soon. Garek hoped it was after he found the murder weapon, though.
Boards creaked overhead, and he reached for his weapon. Who had found his house? He had been so careful to make sure no one had followed them last time they’d come here or had followed him tonight.
