Bodyguard Daddy (20 page)

When she touched his lips, he kissed her fingers. Then his mouth skimmed down her arm to her shoulder. He kissed her neck, and she shivered as her skin tingled.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

The heat of passion flushing her body, she shook her head.

But he covered her anyway—with his body—after he’d pulled off his clothes. Naked skin slid over naked skin. He was as warm as she was. His erection pushed against her belly, and she could feel it throbbing. He needed her as badly as she needed him—even if he wouldn’t admit it.

She stroked her fingers over the tip of him, and he groaned. Then his mouth covered hers, and he kissed her passionately. His tongue slid between her lips as he deepened the kiss.

His hands caressed her, gliding over her back to her hips and her butt. She was rounder than she’d been when they were together before. But he seemed to appreciate her new curves, since he kept stroking them.

A moan slipped through her lips. She was surprised she wasn’t purring from his touch. Her desire intensified. She needed him now. She wrapped her fingers around his erection and stroked him.

“Amber...” He groaned her name almost as a warning.

She took it as encouragement. She wanted him to lose control. But he always held on to it—somehow. The way he now caught her wrist in his hand and pulled her fingers away from him.

She murmured a protest, but his mouth covered hers. He kissed her. And the passion was in his kiss. But a kiss wasn’t enough. She shifted beneath him, rubbing her skin against his. His erection throbbed again, pulsing against her.

He moved his hands to her breasts, teasing her nipples—pushing her to madness. He kept one hand on her breast as his other hand trailed down her body. She arched against his hand—wanting more.

But his fingers weren’t enough. The pressure kept building. She wanted him. Badly.

So badly...

“Milek, please...”

Finally he relented. He parted her legs and pushed inside her. She arched, taking him deeper. Then she locked her legs around his waist and moved against him. He matched her rhythm, as if he instinctively knew what she needed. He gave it to her—slow, deep thrusts.

Her body shuddered as she came. Moments later, with a deep groan, Milek joined her in pleasure. She’d needed the release more than she’d realized. She wasn’t nearly as tense as she’d been. Milek was, though. His body was rock hard next to hers, his heart beating fast.

Then she heard what he must have already. Something creaked and then clattered as it tumbled across the hardwood floor in the living room.

Despite all that security, someone had made it inside the condo.

Chapter 18

“W
hat were you doing?” Milek asked his son as he carried him back to his bedroom. Had the little boy been sleepwalking in the dark? He’d bumped into the coffee table and sent a water glass clattering across the floor. He’d also sent Milek’s heart into overdrive.

Not that it hadn’t already been after making love with Amber.

Michael’s arms looped around his neck as the little boy cuddled close and sniffled. Milek had never known such pain; his son’s tears affected him like someone reaching inside his chest and squeezing his heart.

“I had a bad dream,” Michael admitted.

Milek’s arms tightened around his son. He could protect him from physical danger—he hoped. But what psychological damage was being done to the child?

What fears and insecurities would he have because of this ordeal? A year ago he’d had to leave his home, his school, his friends and pretend to be someone else. And that was after someone had fired shots into his home.

Then he’d been run off the road and shot at again. It was a miracle he hadn’t had more nightmares after what he’d been through.

“It was just a dream,” Milek assured him. But he worried it wasn’t—that it was, instead, the boy’s memories of the nightmare he was living. He wanted to promise that nothing bad would happen again. But that was a promise he couldn’t keep—not until they figured out who’d hired Campanelli to take out the mother and the child.

What kind of sick son of a bitch would order a hit on a little boy?

Milek pulled back the blankets and laid his son back in his bed. But Michael’s arms stayed locked around his neck, pulling him down with him.

“Can you stay with me?” he asked.

“Sure...” Milek would do whatever necessary to make the little boy feel safe again.

Michael scooted over and patted the bed beside him. “Lie down with me like Mommy does.”

Milek had watched Mommy do that—had watched how well Amber soothed all the little boy’s fears and made him feel secure again. Milek wasn’t sure if he was capable of the tenderness she showed their child.

But he lay down next to him. Michael snuggled against his side. And Milek felt the little boy staring up at him. He turned to his side to face him. Michael looked so much like him—with those thickly lashed silver eyes.

Michael blinked—fighting sleep. Probably because he was afraid he would have another bad dream.

Milek searched his mind, trying to come up with a story to tell his son. But all the fairy tales he remembered were more violent than the scrapes the little boy had had with the bad man. Milek could draw pictures with him, but he would need to get out of bed to retrieve the crayons and paper. And it felt very right lying next to his son.

“You’re Aunt Stacy’s brother?” he asked.

Milek nodded.

“Like Uncle Garek,” the little boy said. “So doesn’t that make you my uncle, too?”

“No,” Milek replied.

And maybe he should have had this discussion with Amber first; maybe he should have gotten her permission. But like so many times before, he ignored what was probably the right choice and said, “I’m your father.”

The little boy’s eyes widened, but it wasn’t with surprise, because he said, almost exultantly, “I knew it! I knew it!”

His arms locked around Milek’s neck again as he clung to him. “You’re my daddy!”

His hand trembling slightly, Milek patted the little boy’s head. “Yes, I’m your daddy.”

A slight noise drew his attention to the bedroom doorway. Amber stood there, tears streaming silently down her face. His stomach lurched with dread.

Was she upset with him?

He hated that he’d made her cry again—the way he had five years ago. He’d never meant to hurt her then. Or now. He’d only been trying to keep her safe. Then.

And now.

* * *

The bedroom door creaked open, and Amber tensed. She knew it was Milek, though. Nobody else would get past security. Or him.

After seeing him cuddling with their son, she’d hurried back to the master bedroom. She hadn’t wanted Michael to see her crying as Milek had. She wasn’t certain she could talk even now, with emotion overwhelming her.

He settled onto the bed next to her, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. He didn’t believe she was sleeping—despite her efforts to be still—because he asked, “Are you angry I told him?”

Amber shook her head. She was relieved. She’d thought Milek might never claim his son. She was also overwhelmed. It wasn’t just a suspicion anymore. She knew without a doubt she’d fallen in love with Milek all over again.

Or maybe she’d never gotten over him. Despite Schievink’s best efforts, she’d never been tempted to cross the line with him. Of course, he’d been married, and she would never commit adultery. But even if he’d been single, she wouldn’t have been tempted. She had only ever really loved one man: Milek.

“No, I’m not angry,” she said. “Our son deserves to know who his father is.”

“He deserves a better father,” Milek murmured.

Maybe that horrible review had affected him. Or all the rumors that had always circulated about his family. He had to know he wasn’t the man any of that stuff had painted him as being.

“You’ve saved his life and mine over and over,” she reminded him. “That’s what a good father does—he protects his child.”

He touched her then, brushing her tears away with the pad of his thumb. “You did that,” he said. “You gave up everything—the job you loved, your friends, your home—you did everything you could to keep him safe.”

“You’ve nearly taken a bullet for us,” Amber said. “You’re a good parent, Milek.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint him. That I’ll let him down...”

Her heart ached for the fear in his. He was really afraid of being a father. He hadn’t denied his son because he hadn’t loved him, but because he had.

“I need to find out who’s after you both,” Milek said. “That’s the only way I can really protect you—the only way you’ll be safe.”

Remembering what she’d heard him tell Agent Rus earlier, she assured him, “We’re not in danger because of you.”

“You made that clear, counselor,” he said with a slightly bitter chuckle.

She had been pretty brutal in her argument with him earlier. But then she’d been accused of being a ruthless assistant district attorney. She hadn’t shown much leniency. But she’d learned that from Gregory. Tough sentences for tough crimes.

There had been only one time they’d disagreed. But she’d had to accede to his decision, since he’d been her boss. Not that the judge would have listened to her anyway. Both he and Gregory had been determined to send the perpetrator to prison. He had been convicted of two counts of manslaughter—after driving into a crowd outside a nightclub. He’d been drunk, his first offense. She’d wanted to send him to rehab. She’d known he wouldn’t last in prison.

She hadn’t known the reason he wouldn’t last was that he would take his own life. He’d been sentenced to five years. He hadn’t made it five days.

She’d gone to his funeral. His father had been inconsolable that he hadn’t been able to protect his son. She flinched as she remembered the ugly scene. She hadn’t meant to cause trouble. She hadn’t meant to...

“I know who wants us dead,” Amber said with sudden clarity.

Milek studied her face, his brow furrowing slightly. “One of the names from your list?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t think of him. He wasn’t a suspect. We hadn’t prosecuted him.”

“Then who?”

“A bereaved father,” she said.

And Milek nodded. He obviously understood and agreed.

Who else would want to hurt her son but someone who thought she had hurt his?

* * *

Could no one do what they were hired to do anymore? Were they too lazy or too inept to complete the job? So much money had been spent with no results yielded. No deaths.

At least, not the deaths that mattered. The ones that were overdue.

Not that Frank Campanelli hadn’t deserved to die—the mercenary double-crosser. That had been the mistake. Hiring someone whose only stake had been financial, money his only motivation. And when that “fatal” accident had been staged, he’d been only too happy to take credit for it.

He hadn’t really cared about killing—until he was the one dying. Remembering the look of shock on Campanelli’s face as the bullet had struck his heart brought a surge of satisfaction.

He hadn’t expected it.

Amber Talsma would, though. She knew it was coming. Despite her bodyguard boyfriend and his family, she couldn’t keep escaping death. They couldn’t watch her every minute. They couldn’t protect her every minute.

Sooner rather than later, she and her little bastard were going to die...

Chapter 19

N
ick nodded in agreement. “I think we have a real viable suspect.” Finally. He’d spent the past year checking out all those other names she’d given him.

If it had been one of them and he’d missed it...

But she hadn’t mentioned this one. She wouldn’t have thought of him until she’d learned her son’s name was on Frank Campanelli’s hit list.

Irritation nagged at him. He hadn’t been happy Milek and Garek had found that book. The apartment had been unlocked—his ass. There wasn’t a lock created that at least one of the Kozminski brothers wasn’t able to pick.

Nick needed to learn some of those skills...

“What are you going to do?” Milek asked.

Nick had been asking himself that a lot lately. With the interim district attorney breathing down his neck, and having to run everything through the Chicago FBI division and deal with the River City mayor, he felt more like a politician himself than a lawman. He wanted the freedom the Kozminskis and the Paynes had—the freedom to investigate without worrying about the consequences.

“Nick?” Milek prodded him.

He forced himself to focus again. “I’ll have him picked up and brought in for questioning.” He tapped his keyboard and dispatched the order to have a uniform go to the last known address of Brad Jipping.

“I want to talk to him,” Amber said.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ve questioned suspects before,” she said. “I’m an assistant DA.”

“Not anymore,” Nick reminded her. She’d given up her career to protect herself and her son. He turned to Milek. “You shouldn’t have brought her here.” It was dangerous. Every time she was out in public, shots were fired.

He was getting sick of writing up damn reports, too.

“She insisted,” Milek said.

“I could have come to the condo,” Nick pointed out.

Amber shook her head. Her hair was still dark but there were streaks of her natural red color coming through now. She’d ditched the brown contacts, too. The disguise he’d given her, and the life, were gone.

“We needed access to the police computers,” she explained. “To my records...”

“I’m pretty sure Nikki could have accessed the computers remotely for us.” For them. Nick’s half sister wasn’t likely to help him do anything. While his half brothers didn’t blame him for their father cheating on their mother, Nikki did. She had—albeit begrudgingly—called to play him the recording of Milek and Frank Campanelli, though.

Maybe he was making progress with her.

“I want to be here when you bring him in,” Amber said.

He shook his head. “We don’t know how long it will take to find him.” And he didn’t want them hanging around his office. If the interim DA saw her there...