Bodyguard Daddy (14 page)

She just wanted someone to want her. No. Not someone. Milek. She wanted only Milek.

He wriggled free of her grasp, though. And he pulled off his holster and his weapon and set them carefully on the table next to the bed. Within reach if he needed them.

Hopefully he would not need them.

Amber kicked off her shoes and reached for the buttons on her sweater. But Milek’s fingers were there, pushing hers aside, and he hurriedly undid them. Her cardigan parted, revealing she wore only a bra beneath it.

His breath escaped in a low groan. “You’re beautiful...”

Since he was a man of few words, his compliments were always sincere and always touched her. She smiled. But he was the beautiful one—with his blond hair silky to her touch—with his chiseled features and his soulful eyes. She worked at his buttons, quickly undoing them.

His body was beautiful, too—all smooth skin and sleek muscles. She pressed a kiss to his chest. Then she skimmed her lips lower, over the rippling muscles of his lean stomach. His belt stopped her. But she reached for the buckle.

Milek’s hands covered hers. He stood up to get rid of his pants and boxers until he stood before her entirely naked. She wriggled quickly out of her jeans. She wanted him. Needed him...

Even though people had been in and out of the condo the past few days, she’d felt alone. Isolated. Because she’d missed him...

“Milek...” Her heart pounded as desire overwhelmed her.

He touched her. Using his finger like a paintbrush, he swept it across her skin. He teased the pulse point in her throat and stroked the ridge of her collarbone. Then he dipped down to her breasts. His hands cupped them as his thumbs moved slowly across the nipples—back and forth.

She shifted on the mattress as tension began to build inside her. A moan slipped between her lips—then his tongue did, thrusting into her mouth. He moved it in and out, teasing her with the pleasure that was to come.

The pleasure only he could give her.

One of his fingers swept farther down her body—over the slight swell of her belly—to the mound between her legs. His fingertip found the most sensitive part of her body—stroking back and forth. He teased her until she trembled. The tension was too great. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. And she clutched at his shoulders and ran her nails down his back to his butt.

“I need you,” she murmured.

Instead of thrusting inside her, of easing her ache, he pulled back. She closed her eyes on a wave of disappointment. But then she heard a drawer open and a packet tear. And suddenly his erection nudged her belly, then moved lower—prodding between her legs.

She guided him inside her, arching to take him deeper. He thrust inside her, filling her. Then he withdrew—denying her satisfaction until he slipped inside her again. In and out. In and out he stroked her.

She locked her legs around his waist and clutched his back, riding him. She moved quickly, trying to ease that tension. He felt so wonderful inside her—so right. But release eluded her.

Milek moved, lifted her and rolled so that she straddled him. Now she could set the pace—frenzied and frantic. She lifted her legs and took him deeper inside her.

Milek thrust up and moved with her—following her frenetic pace. His hands clutched her hips, pulling her up and down—helping her until she found the release that had her crying out with its intensity. Milek’s grasp on her hips tightened and he pulled her down. With a deep groan, he found his release, too.

Satiated, Amber flopped onto his chest—which rose and fell with his pants for breath. She had needed that; she’d needed him.

“It wasn’t a bad idea,” she mused. Not making love again had been the bad idea—trying to stay away from each other.

His fingers stroked along her spine. But he didn’t agree with her. Maybe he couldn’t speak yet. But maybe he hadn’t understood her, because when he spoke, it was to ask, “Coming home with me?”

That wasn’t what she’d been talking about, and she suspected he knew it. But she played along. “Home? It doesn’t feel like home.”

“It’s very industrial,” he admitted.

“I liked it at first,” she said. “But now the brick and steel and concrete have begun to remind me of something else. Of the places the criminals I convicted were sentenced.”

He tensed beneath her. And she wished back her words. Milek had been incarcerated. For six horrible months. She’d been friends with his sister then. She’d helped her through those long months of missing her brothers.

She’d tried once to talk to him about it. He hadn’t been like other ex-cons she’d met. He hadn’t claimed his innocence. He’d actually admitted that something good had come of his experience—his art.

“You think my home feels like prison?” he asked.

“Only because I feel like I can’t leave. That I’m trapped inside.” But was she trapped? She lifted her head from his chest and focused on his handsome face. “You’ve left.”

“And I nearly got killed,” he reminded her.

“But Candace saved you. And if we both went out, we would have more of them protecting us,” she pointed out. “We would be fine.”

Milek shook his head; he wouldn’t even consider it.

Was he her protector or her jailer?

* * *

Coming back to River City PD always felt strange to Logan Payne—especially when he walked past his old desk on the way to his brother’s office. The door was already open, as if Nick had been expecting him. Maybe he had been; the guy seemed to have Logan’s mother’s uncanny ability of knowing things were going to happen before they happened. The weird thing was that Penny wasn’t the parent they shared.

“You showed the reports to Milek,” Logan said. “Why not me?”

Nick didn’t even glance up from his desk. He’d definitely expected Logan. “I only showed him the reports to warn him.”

“About Amber?”

Nick nodded.

“She’s not the danger,” Logan said. “You’re wasting your time investigating her.”

“You haven’t seen the reports.”

“I want to see the reports to find out who’s really behind the hit on Schievink,” Logan explained. “I know Amber isn’t a viable suspect.”

Finally Nick looked up and met his gaze. “I can understand Milek defending her,” he said. “He’s in love with her. Why are you defending her? You couldn’t have known her long before she disappeared.”

“Before you faked her death and hid her and her son,” Logan clarified for him. He wasn’t certain he could forgive him for that—for what he’d put Stacy through. Needlessly.

But Stacy had forgiven Amber. His wife was completely glowing now—with her pregnancy and happiness. But concern for her friend and her brother dimmed that happiness. Logan couldn’t have that; he’d vowed on their wedding day to do whatever necessary to make her happy.

“So you don’t really know Amber Talsma,” Nick said.

“My wife does,” Logan replied. “And I have learned to trust my wife’s judgment. She’s never wrong.”

Nick snorted. “That’s all you have? Your wife vouching for her best friend? What if this is the one time she’s wrong?” His voice going deeper and gruffer, he added, “Everyone’s wrong at least once.”

It wasn’t an apology—not in words. But in his tone, in his eyes—there was regret for what he’d done, for faking the deaths that had caused so much anguish for the people Logan loved. He suspected Nick had come to care about some of them, too.

“It happened a year ago,” Logan said, reminding himself as much as Nick. “None of us really knew each other then.”

“No, we didn’t,” Nick agreed.

But Logan suspected his brother didn’t trust many people—no matter how long he’d known them. Logan had always had people he could trust—his family. Nick hadn’t even been able to trust his own mother.

She hadn’t been who he’d thought she was. Like Amber, she had gone into hiding—assuming another name, another identity for her and her son. At least Amber had been gone only a year; Nick had lived his entire life away from his family.

“Now you know us,” Logan said. “You know we all work together. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

Nick passed a folder across his desk. He’d had it ready. He’d definitely known Logan was coming. “I hope you’re as good a detective as everyone around here claims you are,” he said. “We’ve got to figure this out soon.”

Or it was going to be too late for those people Logan loved and for whom Nick had come to care.

* * *

“This is a bad idea,” Milek murmured. He didn’t mean making love with her. That hadn’t been a bad idea at all.

This was—taking her outside the condo. Sure, they had bodyguards—ones who weren’t even trying to stay inconspicuous now. But it was still dangerous.

Not just for her and him but for those bodyguards, too. If Candace got hurt...

Garek would kill him before Frank Campanelli ever got another chance.

Amber tipped her face up to the sunshine and giggled. “This feels great...”

Despite the sunshine, it was cold in the park—the wind whistling through the bare branches of the trees. But he understood her reaction. While it had been many years ago, he remembered how it had felt to be locked up—trapped. When she’d compared the condo to jail, he hadn’t been able to keep her locked up any longer. Despite what Nick and Garek believed because of those horrible rumors, she had done nothing wrong. She had done nothing to deserve all she’d been through—nothing to deserve captivity.

“I feel guilty,” she said. “Michael would love this park.” She gestured toward the swings that although empty swayed in the brisk breeze.

He hadn’t dared to risk bringing their son along, too. He hadn’t wanted his focus divided. He’d managed to protect them both before, but he hadn’t wanted to risk it. He wasn’t sure it was just Frank Campanelli after them anymore.

“We should get back to him,” Milek said.

She smiled at him—that beautiful smile that brightened her eyes and her skin—setting her whole face aglow from within. “To bring him here?”

He shook his head and reiterated, “This was a bad idea...”

He felt it again—that ominous unsettling feeling he’d had outside the hotel in northern Michigan. He’d had it when he’d noticed the truck following him the other night and again yesterday on the street. He felt Frank Campanelli’s presence. The shooting began before he ever had a chance to reach for his weapon, though.

Chapter 12

G
unfire echoed inside her head, her ears ringing from all the shots that had been fired. And she couldn’t stop shaking. Milek wrapped his arms around her—as he had back at the park—when he’d used his body as a human shield for hers.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you think you’re in shock?”

She was shocked—that they hadn’t been killed. That no one had been hit.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

His chin bumped the top of her head when he nodded. “Yes.”

“And everyone else?”

He uttered a heavy sigh—almost of regret—but replied, “Yes.”

She eased back slightly in his arms to stare up at his face.

“Nobody hit Campanelli,” he said, explaining his disappointment.

“You think it was him?”

Milek nodded. “Yeah, I think it was...”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “So sorry...”

“Despite what some people believe, I know you didn’t hire the Ghost,” he assured her. “Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have convinced you to let me leave the condo.” She’d had fun convincing him—with her lips and her hands. They’d spent the entire night making love—before he’d finally agreed to take her to the park in the morning.

“Nobody got hurt,” he reminded her. His arms tightened around her again, pulling her flush against his chest. His heart pounded fast and hard against hers. He was shaken, too.

“But they could have.” And she’d wanted to bring Michael along...

She shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to their son. Milek hadn’t let her see her little boy yet. He’d taken her directly into the master bedroom after he’d brought her back to the condo.

She didn’t want Michael to see her like this, either—freaking out. It would freak him out, too. She drew in an unsteady breath, trying to ease the anxiety gripping her. She wanted to see Michael, but she had to pull it together first—for his sake.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured again as she pressed her mouth to Milek’s neck. If something had happened to him...

His hands clasped her back before he eased her backward. He tipped her chin up and dropped a kiss lightly on her mouth. “Nothing happened,” he said again.

She drew in another deep breath. “Yes, there were a lot of shots fired but nobody got hit...”

Milek’s brow furrowed, and he admitted, “He could have killed us.”

She shuddered again. She hadn’t been wrong. It had been a close call. A very close call.

His voice dropping to a raspy whisper, Milek repeated, “He could have killed us. But he didn’t...”

* * *

“What’s taking me so long?” Frank repeated the question into the cell phone pressed to his ear. He’d had a couple opportunities to end it. But Milek Kozminski was never really alone. Even if he wasn’t protecting the woman and the kid, there were people protecting him.

Like the day in the city when Kozminski had been out without the lady lawyer, he still hadn’t been alone. If Frank had taken a shot, he would have been shot himself. That damn female bodyguard had been there again—like that night.

Like today...

Frank hadn’t wanted to kill her, though. She was just doing her job. Like Milek Kozminski was just doing his...

Maybe it was the painkillers. They’d taken the edge off his temper and made him think rationally again. He had never acted on emotion before. That was why he hadn’t taken the shot when Milek had been without the woman. Frank hadn’t wanted to risk his own life to take a life he wasn’t even being paid to take.

He hadn’t wanted to risk his freedom, either. And it was clear he’d been outnumbered in the park. So the shots he’d fired there had been at such a distance that none of them had struck a target.

There’d been only one viable target there, though. Milek Kozminski’s name wasn’t officially on his list.