by Lisa Childs
“But what’s bothering you?” he asked.
Rus tossed a report across his desk. “Amber...”
She’d been bothering Milek for years, but now that they’d made love again, it was worse. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. And his body tensed every time he remembered how amazing it had been between them—like coming home.
That was why he’d had to leave. Because he’d known if he’d stayed, he would have wanted to make love to her again. That he would have needed to be with her.
“Why is she bothering you?” he asked. Had she and the special agent been involved a year ago? Was that why she had turned to him when she’d been in danger?
Jealousy twisted his stomach into knots. But he had no right to that reaction. He was the one who’d broken their engagement—who’d walked away from her.
“Because I’m not so sure she’s the victim I thought she was,” Rus admitted.
“You were there,” Milek reminded him. “You saw the Ghost shoot at the van and run her and Michael off the road. He tried to kill her.”
Rus nodded. “Now...”
“And a year ago,” Milek said. “You matched the shells you found at the scene to the gun that killed the DA. You even said one of Campanelli’s prints was on one of the shells.”
“Doesn’t that seem convenient to you?”
Beyond exhausted, Milek dropped into one of the chairs in front of Rus’s desk. “Sloppy.”
“But if Campanelli was sloppy,” the FBI agent said, “he would have been caught before now.”
“Arrogant.” Milek suspected that was more the case with the Ghost. He believed his own hype—believed he was untouchable.
“Maybe,” Rus said, but it was a begrudging admission. He obviously had another opinion.
So Milek asked for it. “What do you think?”
“When Schievink got gunned down, I looked at Amber as a suspect.”
“What?”
“She would have taken over his job until the next election.”
“So you think she hired Campanelli so she could take over as DA?” Milek laughed. “That makes no sense. She faked her death and went into hiding for the past year. She lost everything that mattered to her.” Everything but Michael. And maybe he was all that mattered.
“Maybe she knew I was looking at her,” Rus said, “and that’s why she called only me about the shooting.”
Milek’s stomach began to knot. “So you’re saying she went into hiding to avoid suspicion?”
“It worked.”
“She won’t get Schievink’s job now. She’s been gone too long. So why come out of hiding now?”
Rus shrugged. “Maybe Campanelli turned on her. Maybe he’s been blackmailing her.”
Milek snorted. “You’re reaching. It’s all too ridiculous. Amber was ambitious.” That was one reason why he’d broken their engagement, so his reputation wouldn’t damage her career and hold her back from all that she could have accomplished. She would have become DA without needing to kill anyone. “But what you’re suggesting is absurd.”
“Then maybe it wasn’t about ambition.”
“Why else would she kill her boss?”
“Because she was involved with him,” Rus said. “Everyone believed they were having an affair.”
Even Milek...
“Maybe she killed Schievink out of revenge,” Rus said. “Maybe that’s why Campanelli tried to kill you this morning. Maybe she wants you dead, too.”
Milek laughed, but it echoed hollowly in Rus’s office. “She needs to hire a new hit man, then,” Milek said, “since he’s been trying to kill her, too.”
“Trying,” Rus said. “But she hasn’t been hit.”
Milek shook his head. “You’re wrong about her. You’re all wrong. She would never put Michael’s safety at risk.” That was why she’d given up her career and her home and gone into hiding for the past year. For their son.
Not to avoid suspicion.
“I hope you’re right,” Rus said. “For my sake, but most especially for yours.”
“I’m right,” Milek insisted.
But Rus gave him only a pitying glance. “I wish like hell I had never told you she was alive.”
“I would have found out,” Milek said. “Just like everyone else has.” And then he wouldn’t have stopped himself from reaching for Rus and pounding on him.
“But you might not have been in the middle of it,” Rus said. “You might not have been in danger.”
It wouldn’t have mattered when or how he’d found out. He wouldn’t have stayed away from Amber when he’d learned she was alive.
“And you are in danger,” Rus said.
“It’s not the first time.” He’d had some close scrapes helping Garek with the assignment he’d tackled for Rus.
“Campanelli is a pro,” Rus said. “Until Amber, no one has ever survived a hit he’s been hired to carry out.”
Maybe that was another reason the special agent had become suspicious of her. Milek wished Rus had kept his doubts to himself. While he didn’t believe she would put their son in danger, he hadn’t needed to be reminded of her involvement with her late boss.
But even if the rumors were true and they’d been involved, she wasn’t responsible for his murder. If she had ever considered hiring a hit man, Milek would have been dead five years ago—for breaking their engagement, for not acknowledging his son.
No. Amber wasn’t the one who wanted Milek dead. But someone did. So now not only did he have to keep her safe, he had to protect himself. His life and his heart.
Chapter 9
Was he lying to her?
Amber studied Garek as he sipped his coffee, washing down a bite of the cake she’d made. “If he’s all right,” she said, “why isn’t he back?”
“He left here to talk to Agent Rus,” Garek reminded her. “That’s what he’s doing.”
He’d been on the phone again. She’d thought his wife had called again. But maybe it had been Rus.
“But he was shot at,” she said.
“And who better than Rus to take the report?” Garek asked. “You went to him when your house got shot at...”
And he’d turned her life upside down. Sure, he’d offered alternatives. He’d told her to talk to the Paynes, to get the family of bodyguards to protect her. But all she’d been able to think about had been how close her son had come to getting shot. She hadn’t been willing to trust his safety even to her best friend’s husband. And she hadn’t believed Michael’s father would help her.
But ever since he’d learned about the danger, Milek had put his life at risk to protect her and their son.
“I’m not so sure going to Rus was the right decision,” she admitted. Her hand shaking, she set down her coffee cup. The last thing she needed was more caffeine. She was already anxious enough.
Good thing Michael was sleeping late.
“Your mistrust is mutual,” Garek shared.
“What?” She had done nothing wrong. No matter how many people were mad at her she didn’t regret the choice she’d made to protect her son. “Why?”
“He thinks you know more about your boss’s murder than you’ve admitted.”
“I told him everything I know. I gave him a list of suspects.” Because of the volume of cases Gregory had handled himself or with her assistance, that list had been long.
“One name was conspicuously missing from that list.”
She’d forgotten someone? Hope flickered. Maybe Rus had figured out who’d hired the hit man. “Who?”
“You.”
She laughed. “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t want Gregory dead.” He had been her mentor as well as her boss. He’d wanted the best for her. “Why would Rus think that? He didn�
��t a year ago.”
“He had some suspicions then,” Garek said. “But then your house got shot at. And he didn’t know the whole story.”
“What whole story?” She was missing something—something that had Garek looking at her as he had previously, with anger and suspicion.
“That you were having an affair with your boss.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the gossip. Anytime a man and woman worked together, people probably speculated—especially when those people were jealous of the cases she’d been given. The only thing she’d done to earn the assignments had been her job.
She uttered a weary sigh. She hadn’t missed River City—and not just because of the danger. She hadn’t missed the rumors that had been viciously spread about her.
“I was never involved with Gregory.” He’d hinted he was attracted to her—on both a physical and emotional level. But she’d shut him down quickly.
While she’d had a serious boyfriend in college and another in law school, there was only one man she had ever loved: Milek Kozminski.
But she had respected her boss. He’d been brilliant and ambitious. And if he hadn’t been murdered, she had no doubt he would have become the governor. That had been one of his goals. She suspected the White House had probably been another.
Maybe she should have been grateful it had never come to that. A political campaign would have no doubt dredged up all those vicious rumors—the kind everyone believed no matter how much she’d denied it.
“I always figured that was why Milek broke your engagement,” Garek said. “Because you cheated on him with your boss.”
Now she gasped. Could Milek have believed the rumors? When he’d broken up with her, she’d asked him why he hadn’t wanted to marry her, but he’d never really answered her. He’d claimed he’d made a mistake to have ever proposed, and he’d apologized.
But he’d never explained...
If he’d thought she was cheating, why would he have apologized? She’d just figured he hadn’t loved her—that he had never loved her.
But she had loved him. “I never would have cheated on Milek!”
Garek didn’t look convinced. “You’re ambitious,” he said.
“I work hard.”
“Sometimes hard work isn’t enough to get you where you want to be,” he said.
“It’s not,” she agreed. She’d worked hard at her relationship with Milek—trying to get him to open up to her. But she’d lost him. She’d worked hard the past year to figure out who wanted her dead like the DA, but she hadn’t come any closer to learning who’d hired Frank Campanelli.
“So maybe it was easier having Schievink killed than waiting for the next election to run for his job...”
A whoosh of air echoed her gasp of surprise. And she turned to see that Milek had opened the door and stepped inside the condo. His silver eyes had gone stormy gray with anger. He looked furious. But she didn’t know if his anger was directed at his brother or her.
* * *
“We’ve already made our deal,” Chekov said as Nick settled into the chair across the metal table from him. “If you keep visiting, I might think you’re developing a crush on me, Agent Rus.”
“I keep visiting,” Nick replied, “because you’re not telling me everything you know.”
Chekov lifted his arms as far as the chains shackling him to the table allowed. “I’ve held up my end of our little arrangement.”
“And I’ve held up mine,” Nick said. “Your daughter is getting the help she needs.” But Nick wasn’t sure that what was wrong with Tori Chekov could ever be fixed. She was a cold-blooded killer, and he would make certain she was never free again.
“So our business is done.” Chekov lifted his arms and gestured at the guard, dismissing Rus as if he was still in charge. For years the man had ruthlessly ruled an organized crime family.
“I thought you were a changed man,” Nick remarked. “Capable of doing the right thing now.”
Chekov chuckled. “I’ve only been in here a couple of months. You think I’m already reformed?”
From the crimes he’d confessed to Nick, Chekov was as cold-blooded a killer as his daughter. Nick doubted it was possible for the mobster to ever change. So maybe he’d wasted his time coming here. He started to stand.
But Chekov waved him back into his chair. “I may not be reformed, but I am actually beginning to like you, Special Agent Nicholas Rus.”
Nick’s blood chilled. Sometimes just the way the man said his name felt like a threat. But he’d promised no retribution for Nick trying to take him down. Could a cold-blooded killer ever be trusted?
“It must be all our visits,” Nick remarked. “I’m starting to grow on you.”
The old mobster chuckled. “I sure as hell hope not. I don’t need to stink like a fed.”
And maybe that was why Chekov refused to give up any information about anyone but himself. He’d confessed to his crimes. But he hadn’t given up any other criminals. He was old-school, so he probably didn’t want anyone to think he was a narc.
“Despite my stench, you like me,” Nick reminded him.
“Maybe like was overstating my feelings,” Chekov said, backpedaling.
Nick felt his opportunity to get information from the mobster slipping away.
Then Chekov said, “I respect you.”
And to an old-school mobster like Viktor Chekov, respect was more important than liking. He would put up with someone he hated if he respected him.
He chuckled. “You’re the only one who had the balls to take me on.”
“Garek did,” Nick said, although maybe he shouldn’t have reminded him. But maybe that was why Chekov wouldn’t help him. “The Kozminskis—”
“Aren’t in law enforcement,” Chekov said. “They’re like me. Scrappers. You’re the only fed who had the balls to try to take me down.”
He was pushing his luck again but Nick couldn’t resist adding, “I didn’t just try. I did it.”
Instead of being offended, Chekov chuckled again. “Yes, you did. You found my Achilles’ heel.”
His daughter. Again, that had been more the Kozminskis’ doing than his. But for some reason everyone had given Rus the credit. Chekov knew the truth, though. Maybe that was why he didn’t care Milek Kozminski was in danger.
“What do you want for her?” Nick asked. That was the only reason Chekov would talk—for his daughter. Nick would have to concede something. While he never intended for her to get out of the lockdown unit of the psychiatric hospital, he could offer her some small comfort.
“The best.”
“She’s in the highest rated facility that would accept someone who’s killed.”
Chekov nodded. “But the best shrink isn’t there. I have someone I want her to see. I’ll pay for the doctor’s services. I just need for you to authorize the visits.”
“I’ll have to check him out,” Nick said. And make sure it wasn’t someone Chekov had hired to help his daughter escape.
“Her,” Chekov said. “I think that’s Tori’s problem. She never had a mother figure in her life.”
Nick hadn’t had a real mother figure. And he’d had no father at all, at least not that he’d known about, but he hadn’t become a killer. He refrained from pointing that out, though. “I’ll check her out, then.”
“So you’ll consider it?”
He nodded.
“Are you here about the Ghost again?”
Nick moved his head in another nod. Last time Chekov had conceded to give him a description of the man, since the only mug shot taken of the guy had been during an arrest in his adolescence. That was how Nick had recognized him as the driver of the sedan following Amber’s minivan.
“You won’t find him,” Chekov warned him. �
��He’s called the Ghost for a reason.”
“I know where he is,” Nick said.
Chekov arched a gray brow. “If that were so, I doubt you would have bothered with this little visit of ours.”
“He’s in River City,” Nick said.
Chekov sucked in a breath. “He’s come back?”
“He tried to kill Milek Kozminski today.”
“Milek?” Chekov asked, and both brows arched with his surprise. “I could understand someone hiring a hit on Garek. But Milek...”
He was the good brother. The nice brother. Everyone still thought he was a criminal and a killer, but they liked him. No one didn’t.
“You don’t know why someone would want him dead?”
Chekov shook his head.
Nick voiced Milek’s theory aloud. “Would Campanelli kill him just to get him out of his way?”
Chekov laughed at the thought. “The Ghost won’t kill anyone for free.”
That was what Nick had thought. Someone else wanted Milek dead. Amber?
“What do you know about the hit on the DA?”
“You asked me that before,” Chekov said.
Solving that case was even more important to Nick than taking down Chekov had been. The crime boss had been curiously reluctant to talk about it, though.
“But we have a deal now,” Nick reminded him.
“And my answer hasn’t changed.”
“You really don’t know anything about Schievink?”
“I didn’t say that,” Chekov replied. “I just don’t know who ordered the hit.”
Maybe Nick had failed to ask the right questions the last time they’d talked. “What do you know about Schievink?”
“He was an ambitious man.”
“Corrupt?”
“He was an ambitious man,” Chekov repeated. “Ambitious men will often do whatever it takes to get ahead.” He would know. The man had had no compunction about killing to get what he’d wanted. Neither had his daughter.
“And Amber Talsma?” Nick asked. “How ambitious is she?” According to the interim DA, even more ambitious than Schievink had been.
Chekov shrugged. “Like I told you last time, I don’t know that name.”