The Baby Contract

by Barbara Dunlop

  She forcibly banished the distracting thought, banging on the door again. “Hello? I need to borrow your phone.”

  Drake was still crying inside, and she couldn’t hear anything else.

  She cupped her hand over the small opaque window, making a show of peering inside. “My car’s broken down.”

  “Come on,” she muttered under her breath. “Open up.”

  Then the door cracked. “I can’t help you.”

  “I’m so sorry to bother you,” she rushed on. “I hope I didn’t wake your baby. How old is he, by the way? I have a niece.”

  “You need to leave,” said Ronnie Hart.

  “I understand. I will. But you’re the third house I’ve tried, and nobody’s home. I’ve got an appointment. I’m meeting my sister. She’s pregnant. It’s an ultrasound. It might be twins. And I just need to get the auto club. Please?”

  It took him a minute to answer. “What’s their number?”

  “Oh, you’re a lifesaver.” She made a show of digging into her pocket. Then she leaned suddenly on the door, popping it open, sending him stumbling back.

  “Thanks so much.” she said, pretending he’d opened the door himself.

  He swiftly backed away, placing himself next to Kassidy. She was pale and shaking. She seemed emotionally wrung out, holding a crying Drake and looking as if she might drop him.

  “Hi, there,” Mila told her cheerfully, making eye contact, hoping against hope she wouldn’t react. “Nice to meet you. Cute kid. Your husband is making a call for me.”

  Thank goodness, Kassidy kept quiet.

  But Ronnie took Drake from her arms. Not good.

  “I know the number’s here somewhere.”

  She looked up, and Ronnie was holding a gun on Kassidy.

  “What’s with the gun?” she asked to alert Troy and the others.

  “Move!” Troy ordered.

  “I recognize you now.” Ronnie sneered at her. “You were there last night, chatting me up. You two must be friends.”

  Troy moved cautiously through the doorway, his gun drawn, gaze pinned on Ronnie.

  “Back off,” Ronnie ordered. He cocked the pistol. “Tell the other two to stay in the kitchen.”

  Troy’s gaze went to Vegas and Charlie.

  “I mean it!” Ronnie shouted. His eyes were glazed, and his face was flushed. He dangled the crying Drake precariously under one arm, the gun in his other hand trained on Kassidy, who was only inches away.

  “Stay back,” said Troy, motioning to Vegas and Charlie.

  “We know what’s going on here,” said Mila in the calmest tone she could muster.

  Ronnie brushed the gun against Kassidy’s temple.

  “I know you like Kassidy. I like her, too.” Mila tried a smile.

  “You know nothing,” Ronnie spat.

  “Mila,” Troy warned.

  But she couldn’t back off. She was closest to them, and she was the only one who didn’t have a gun trained on him. She needed to keep his attention, stop him from fixating on the deadliness of the situation and keep him from deciding he had nothing left to lose. And she needed to send a signal to Kassidy.

  “I love her singing,” said Mila, shifting her weight and using the movement to propel herself forward. “You must love it a lot. I know you’ve been in the audience.

  “She’s working on a new song,” Mila continued. “With some great dance moves.” She did a couple of foot moves, using the momentum to take her even closer to them.

  Then she looked hard at Kassidy, peering deep into her eyes, willing her to understand the message. “There’s this one move.”

  “Shut up!” Ronnie cried.

  She continued staring at Kassidy. “At the opening of the new song. It’s quite spectacular.”

  Kassidy’s eyes went wide, and the blood drained from her face.

  “We should get her to do it.”

  “Everybody,” shouted Ronnie. “Get out!” He shook Drake, who shrieked in terror.

  Two big tears welled up in Kassidy’s eyes.

  “Now!” Mila yelled, diving through the air for Drake.

  Kassidy dropped to the ground. The gun went off. Mila tore Drake from Ronnie’s arms, spinning her body to land on her back and break his fall.

  She ripped the gun from her waistband and trained it on Ronnie.

  But Troy was already there. He had Ronnie pinned to the floor. He flipped him over, fastening his wrists together.

  Vegas was lifting Kassidy, cradling her in his arms.

  “Get her out of here.” Troy’s voice was hoarse.

  “Everybody okay?” asked Mila, gun still pointed at Ronnie.

  Troy stared at her. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or relieved.

  Vegas carried Kassidy out the front door, while sirens sounded and grew louder. Obviously, the neighbors had reacted to the disturbance.

  “I’ll take him,” Charlie said to Mila, crouching to lift Drake from her chest.

  “He sounds hungry,” said Mila, glancing around. “See if Kassidy had a diaper bag.”

  “Seriously?” asked Charlie.

  “Seriously,” said Mila.

  Babies’ stomachs didn’t know anything about hostage-taking incidents. And with all that crying, he was probably dehydrated.

  “I’m not changing his diaper,” said Charlie.

  “Wimp,” said Troy, hauling Ronnie roughly to his feet.

  * * *

  Hours later, Ronnie was in custody, Drake was fast asleep and Troy was desperately trying to make sense of his life.

  In the dimly lit bedroom, he smoothed his palm over his son’s silky hair, watching his little chest rise and fall beneath the powder-blue sleeper. Drake suckled in his sleep, his red lips pursing in a bow. His fingers wriggled and so did his toes. Troy couldn’t fathom what a baby that young could possibly dream about.

  He also couldn’t fathom what miracle had brought him here. How had Troy ended up with a child? He was the last person in the world who deserved an innocent baby. He had no role models to draw on. He had an erratic, sometimes dangerous job. He hadn’t read any books, done any research. He certainly hadn’t done any of the work to get Drake to this point in his little life.

  “You drew the short straw, buddy,” he whispered, his voice unexpectedly breaking.

  Damn.

  “But you’re here,” Troy continued. “And I’m what you get. And we’re going to make the best of it. Okay?”

  He leaned down and gave Drake a kiss on the cheek.

  He straightened. “Okay.” He braced himself. “Okay, that’s what we’re going to do.”

  He could hear Mila’s and Kassidy’s voices murmuring in the living room. A doctor had checked out his sister. She’d been suffering from mild shock, but some dinner and a glass of wine seemed to help.

  Now he needed to talk to her. He needed about a million questions answered. Their voices grew louder as he entered the room.

  He stopped. He stared in disbelief at his sneaky sister, reflexively folding his arms over his chest.

  “Troy,” said Mila in a warning tone. “The interrogation can wait.”

  “I don’t think so.” He moved forward, taking one of the armchairs, cornerwise from Kassidy.

  He knew he had to stay calm. She’d had an incredibly rough day. But he needed answers.

  “I don’t get it,” he said to his sister. “Why the ruse? Why not tell me up front?”

  Kassidy’s voice shook a little. “I wasn’t sure how.”

  He felt like a heel, but he couldn’t back off.

  “Honestly,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you at all. I know you don’t want a baby.”

  “It doesn’t matter if I want a ba
by or not. I have a baby.”

  “Troy, take it easy,” said Mila.

  “Julie asked me to adopt him. She wanted him to stay with his family.”

  Troy guessed he could understand that.

  “I was afraid.” Kassidy swallowed. “I was afraid you’d give him away.”

  Troy opened his mouth to protest.

  “No,” she said. “I knew there was a chance you wouldn’t want him. And I know you thought I’d make a terrible mother.”

  He couldn’t argue that. When she’d first showed up on his doorstep with Drake, that was exactly what he’d thought.

  “I was terrified.” Her throat sounded clogged. “That you’d make me give him away to someone better. But I love him, Troy. I was there when he was born. I couldn’t bear to give him to strangers.”

  Troy’s chest tightened. “We’re not giving him to strangers.” He leaned out to take her hand. “He’s my son, Kassidy. Of course I’m going to raise my son.”

  She gave him a watery smile. Beside her, Mila wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Troy wanted to smile at that. Mila had been a rock today, and now she was getting sappy over a little baby. He swallowed a lump of emotion himself. He supposed he understood.

  “You did good today,” he told Kassidy. “Really good. You kept your cool and helped save Drake’s life.”

  A shudder visibly ran though her. He realized she was still pale, and there were shadows under her eyes.

  “Get some sleep,” he told her. “We’ve got a nursery to plan.”

  She managed a smile.

  “And your room, too. I want you here as much as possible to help with Drake.”

  She gave a rapid nod.

  “We’re an unorthodox family.” That was an understatement. “But we are a family.”

  “We can do better than we have in the past,” she said.

  “Absolutely,” Troy agreed.

  Kassidy slowly rose to her feet. “Okay. That’s good. I’m going to bed now.” She leaned over to give Mila a hug. “Thank you so much.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  “I will.” Kassidy gave a chopped sigh and left for her bedroom.

  His gaze came to rest on Mila.

  She looked back.

  “You want to talk now?” he asked, even as his energy drained silently away.

  “Are you ticked off at me?”

  “Little bit.”

  She’d taken an incredible risk. She’d ignored his direct orders in the field. They’d had a good outcome, but the end didn’t always justify the means. And the end could have been very different.

  “Then, no,” she said. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

  But she surprised him by rising, crossing the room and setting herself down in his lap.

  His entire body sang in contentment. He settled an arm around her shoulders.

  She peeled off her shoes. “Let’s argue later.”

  “Later works for me.” He had no desire to argue with her just then.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he placed his palm on her warm stomach. She was so fit and tough, but she was still soft and smooth. How could anyone be such a perfect combination?

  The curve of her backside was cradled in his lap, and it took about thirty seconds for his body to respond.

  He rested his cheek against her hair and inhaled deeply.

  “I know we always do this impulsively,” he said. “We don’t analyze it, and we don’t discuss it. But I have to say, all relevant facts considered, I really want to carry you off to my bedroom and make love to you for the next twelve hours or so.”

  “Maybe we should discuss the pros and cons,” she whispered.

  “There are a lot of pros.” He wrapped his hand around her rib cage and settled her more closely to his body.

  “Such as?”

  “Such as, you’re beautiful, you’re soft and sexy, you’re smart and funny and bold as all get-out. And I love the way you smell.”

  She turned her face toward him. “I love the way you smell.” Her palms slid up his chest. “And I love the way you feel. So strong. You make me feel safe.”

  “You are safe.”

  She tilted her chin, and he kissed her mouth. She tasted amazing. He kissed her again.

  “There are also cons.”

  “Not tonight. The cons can sit this one out. The world can sit this one out. It’s just you and me, Mila.”

  She smiled, her green eyes bright and deep as a glacial lake. “Okay.”

  She pushed herself up and stood.

  He took her hand. She snagged the bottle of wine.

  On the way past the bar, he picked up a couple of glasses.

  He locked the bedroom door behind them, hitting the switch for the gas fireplace. The spacious room was filled with a soft orange glow.

  “Nice,” she said.

  “You’re what’s nice.”

  He set down the wine and the glasses and pulled back the covers on the king-size bed.

  She followed him over, removing her T-shirt and dispensing with her bra. He pulled off his own shirt, unbuttoning his pants. Then he paused while she stripped off her socks and her jeans and stood there in her white lace panties.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he told her, tracing a line from her neck to her shoulder and down her arm. “Can I just stand here and look at you for a while?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  He’d expected to be impatient. He was definitely aroused. But he didn’t just want sex here. He wanted more. He wanted to know her like nobody else knew her. He wanted all of her, body and soul.

  She traced a scar that traversed his abdomen. He knew it was the most prominent one. She looked expectantly up at him.

  “Car crash. Chasing a guy through downtown Munich.”

  “Not a knife fight?”

  “Knife fights are bad news. You want to stay out of knife fights.”

  “Did you catch him?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  She traced another scar.

  “My misspent youth,” he told her.

  “Poor baby.” She leaned in to kiss it.

  The warmth of her lips sent tendrils of desire skittering across his skin. He groaned and drew her into his arms.

  “You feel even better than you look,” he said.

  “So do you.”

  “Kiss me.”

  She looked up at him. “Sure.”

  He brought his lips to hers, and the world truly did fall away. He lifted her onto the bed, stripped off the rest of his clothes, dispensed with her panties and drew her full-length into his arms. She was all limbs and motion, warmth and friction. He touched her everywhere, kissed her everywhere, watched the firelight play off the honey of her skin.

  She was everything he wasn’t. Her hair was soft as silk. Her lips were like rose petals. Her soft breasts filled his hands, and her moist body welcomed him into the apex of heat and softness. He wanted to stay here forever. He wanted Mila forever.

  There was no way in the world he could see giving her up.

  Finally, they were satiated and still. He lay there beside her, then rose up on one elbow to gaze at her. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was even. If she wasn’t asleep, she soon would be.

  He was in love with her.

  He’d never felt it before, but he was certain of it. He wanted everything for her, nothing but the best. He wanted her to be happy and safe, and he wanted her to be close to him—to him and Drake—forever.

  He didn’t know what to do about that, but there it was.

  “You saved my son,” he whispered.

  “Hmm?” The word was barely a breath. Her hand twitched but
then went still.

  “Thank you, Mila.”

  * * *

  Mila awoke feeling lighter and more confident. She emerged from Troy’s bedroom, hearing his voice coming from the kitchen. It was obvious he was talking to Drake.

  She stopped in the doorway, leaning on the wall. “Morning.”

  Troy smiled at the sound of her voice, looking up from his tablet. “Morning.”

  She walked into the room.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Love some.”

  He rose to take a white mug from the bottom shelf. “Sleep well?”

  “I did.” She stroked the top of Drake’s head.

  He banged his heels against the high chair, selecting another round of cereal.

  “Me, too.” Troy handed her a cup of coffee.

  “You want to say what you’ve got to say?” she asked.

  She’d ignored his orders last night, and he had a right to be annoyed. He’d said as much before they’d made love last night.

  “It’s over,” he said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Didn’t he want to lay down the law, tell her to never pull anything like that again?

  “Let’s move on.”

  “To what?” She didn’t want special treatment. If she deserved a dressing-down, she’d take it.

  “Last night,” he said, his voice gentle, hand coming up to touch her cheek, “well, it made me realize...”

  “That I can hack it?”

  “That you’re one in a million.”

  Her heart warmed. “So, you get it now? You see what I can do.”

  He gave a secretive smile, stepping closer. “I saw what you can do, all right.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It was pretty fantastic.”

  She wrapped her hand around his wrist. “I meant on the job.”

  “Let’s not talk about the job.”

  She took a step back. “I proved my point.”

  His voice firmed up. “That it wasn’t about me? I did know Ronnie Hart.”

  “What? No. I’m not saying you were wrong. I’m saying I handled myself. I did the job. I saved Drake.”

  Troy’s voice went flat. “You’re saying you want to be rewarded?”