“What the hell are you talking about?” the voice whispered.
“You heard me.”
“I am not paying you four million in anything.”
She laughed. “Oh, yes, my dear, you most certainly will.”
“Just what makes you think that?”
Alla tapped her finger on the tabletop. “You don’t want anyone to know your little secret, for one. What would people think? You don’t want anyone to know we were lovers.”
“But—”
“Two, you don’t want anyone to know you sold confidential information to those who knew they could contact you and pay enough.” Alla glanced around, noting it was safe to continue.
“I don’t have—”
“Yes, you do. And if you didn’t manage your money for any unseen eventuality, that really isn’t my problem.”
The contact took a shuddering breath. “But . . . I thought . . . I . . .”
Alla laughed. “You thought what? That just because we had some fun together that meant something. You have much to learn.”
“This isn’t my first game,” the voice snapped. Silence from the other end. “I don’t think I can.”
She took a deep breath. “Then that’s too bad. You didn’t handle the problem two nights ago, and have brought even more attention to Mr. Kinncaid than either of us need. It’s my turn and my way. Four million. Be ready for a transaction when I call you back in two days.”
“But—”
“You disappoint me and your husband will find just exactly who the traitor is. The fact you married him for the sole purpose of selling confidential information should make him really happy.”
With that Alla snapped her phone shut, laid it down next to her espresso and picked up the cup, sipping.
Today was looking brighter and brighter. And in several more she’d end the Kinncaid issue.
*****
Ian Kinncaid cut through the water of the indoor pool. It was cold out this morning, and the water was warm, freeing against his skin. He reached the end of the pool and turned to swim another lap. He’d been swimming for about half an hour and knew he needed to swim another twenty minutes at the very least. He’d been lax lately in his workouts. Workouts kept him fit, on his toes, his muscles ready.
He turned his head, took a deep chlorinated breath and continued to swim, stroke after stroke.
The headache was gone and he sincerely hoped the swim would shove away any of the lingering heaviness he often experienced after those fucking migraines. He hated them. He knew they were a side effect of what he did. The psychologists on staff for Pete had run tests and confirmed what he already knew. Men who killed other men as part of their jobs had to, at some point in time, come to terms with what they did. And if they continued in a vein of denial, their psyche often reacted in various ways. Panic attacks, excruciating headaches, insomnia, some guys had delusions. Thank God he hadn’t gone that far. At that point, he’d just tell John to shoot him.
All part of the job.
He didn’t currently have time to “deal,” as the doctor had warned him yesterday. The shrink had wanted him to take leave. Pete had backed him up, and he’d listened to his boss and the doctor argue for a good five minutes, until he’d finally just stood up and walked out.
Stroke after stroke. The water caressed him, washed away the remnants of nightmares, of terrors he didn’t want or need to contemplate right now.
When it was all over. This weekend. Next week. Elianya.
The muscles in his shoulders and neck tightened.
He pushed off the side of the pool even harder and swam faster.
When he took another breath, he saw his father standing at the edge of the pool. Ian had no desire to talk to him. Keeping his rhythm, he kept swimming. Images flashed in his brain, and he tried to turn them off.
Black, white. Flash. People screaming, fires burning. Flash. Girls crying. Women dying. Flash.
Ian swam faster, faster and harder. The water would wash it away.
It had to.
Stroke, stroke, stroke.
*****
Jock watched the boy cut through the water like a torpedo. Swimming as if the demons of hell were after him. He’d seen the shadows in his son’s eyes, wondered and hadn’t asked.
He’d heard Ryan and Tori talking. Knew Ian was the man who saved them. And something about him, something tickled the back of Jock’s memory about the time when they’d had guards for Christian.
Had he been here then too?
And then it flashed. The bald man who’d grabbed Brayden as the congressman fell, his bloody hand locked on Brayden’s shirt. The bald man who’d jerked Brayden back from falling as well. The bald man who’d shot the dangerous congressman as easily as if the gun was simply part of his hand.
The entire scene replayed in his mind.
Ryan worshiped him, thought of his Uncle Ian as some superhero. Had Ian taken care of Nina Fisher as well?
Jock frowned, wishing to hell he’d never latched on to the thoughts. They wormed their way into his brain and wouldn’t leave.
What price did his son pay to keep them all safe from the shadows? And was Jock to blame for driving that boy to this point?
Last night Ian had appeared haunted, haggard. The boy wasn’t but thirty-six and last night he could have passed for one of Jock’s retired golfing buddies.
For a second, he thought about waiting until Ian was done and talking to his son. But he sensed Ian didn’t want to talk. If he had, he would have stopped swimming and talked. Plain and simple.
Jock, towel in hand, walked out of the conservatory, the glass windows fogged from the heated pool and hidden behind masses of greenery. Shutting the door behind him, he took a deep breath, felt tears sting his eyes. Looking up, he prayed, “God, don’t hold against him the sins I led him to. You know he’s got a good heart.” All this time, Jock had been angry, hurt, betrayed and wishing for his son, and Ian had been protecting them at a cost Jock didn’t want to contemplate. What kind of father did that make him?
Swallowing, sniffing hard, he took another deep breath. He was tired. Maybe he’d go back upstairs.
In the hallway, he stopped outside of Darya’s room. The sound of her giggles had him pushing the door open a bit more.
She stood in her swimsuit, Rori behind her in a robe, smiling.
They made a lovely family. Jock sensed things were still very new between them all and he longed, hoped with an intensity that his son found some peace in this woman and child.
Darya’s grin grew and she skipped around.
Rori turned and met his eyes. “Are you going swimming as well, then?”
He shook his head. “No. But I know Ian’s down there swimming a marathon.”
A faint pull of brows marred her smooth forehead. He looked and really saw her. Tall and willowy, her skin bronzed, her eyes light, she was beautiful—exotic—and somehow he knew, perfect for Ian.
“What?” she asked. “Did I grow another head while I slept?”
“No, I was just thinking how lucky Ian is. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and something tells me a perfect match for . . .” He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t say matches. What did he know of spouses for his children. “I can easily see why my son married you, Rori.”
For a moment she stared at him, then smiled, her cheeks dimpling. “Careful, Mr. Kinncaid, you’ll ruin my image of you.”
“You and Jesslyn,” he muttered. “Call me Jock, for God’s sake.” He turned to go, then turned back. Motioning to Darya, he said, “There are some kids’ pool toys in the closet next to the table down there.”
Her smile still in place, she nodded again, and grabbed a towel.
He turned and walked back to his room.
Ian might have only shown up to make certain they were all safe and well, but he’d come home. And five days later he was still here. Maybe, just maybe, they would stay.
Once in his room, Kaitie, sitting in bed, took one look at him
and asked, “What?”
“I want all our kids and grandkids close.”
Her laughter always managed to loosen the bands in his chest and calm him. “Jock, our children love us, but you’ve got to understand, they have their own lives.”
He took off his robe and looked at her in her low-cut emerald gown. Crawling up onto the bed, he kissed her, pushing her back down. “Kaitie lass, don’t pull that with me when I know you feel the same way.”
Her grin was the same it had been since the day he’d met her, part sheepish, part seductive.
“Well . . .” She kissed him. “One of us has to think rationally.”
He grinned, and whispered what he wanted to do. Her laughter rubbed the silk of her gown against him, and he decided to show her.
*****
Darya skipped alongside Rori as they walked down the hallway. The carpet tickled her feet. A door opened and the other little girl came out, dressed to go somewhere. She said something to them and then raced down the hallway and stairs.
Darya looked up at Rori and wondered where the other girl was going.
She knew they were going swimming. She’d gone yesterday and seen the pool, and the other nice lady had given her this pretty suit. It was purple and had sparkles on it.
Down the stairs, to the back of the house, past the hallway that lead to the kitchen. She sniffed. Waffles. She loved waffles, and she even got them with strawberries here and lots of whipped cream.
They were going swimming. She knew how to swim. A fogged memory of her jumping to Papa in the water floated unattached through her.
She shook it off and hurried Rori along, pulling on her hand.
Rori shook her head, smiling, and said something, “. . . down.”
Down? She thought of that word, tried to whisper it . . . d. duh. Duh-own. The door to the pool room was ahead.
She ran and tried to reach it.
Rori laughed and reached for her hand, but she darted free and ran across the tiles and jumped into the pool.
As the water closed over her head, she heard a yell.
*****
Ian jerked his head up at the holler and saw a flash go into the pool.
Darya!
He took off across the pool. God.
His heart slammed in his chest. Rori dove into the pool.
Where the hell was she?
A dark head, slick as a seal, popped up right in front of him just as he reached her, and her grinning face met his. Water dripped off her nose.
A delighted laughter chimed out of her and bounced around the confined area.
His heart still slamming against his ribs, he grabbed her to him. “You can swim.”
Rori broke the surface. “Ian!”
“I’ve got her.”
Darya leaned back and wiggled out of his arms. He let her go, cautiously, and watched her swim to the side, dip under and flip. She popped up giggling.
The sight eased everything inside him.
Rori swam up to him. “She can bloody swim. That would have been nice to know before I died of a heart attack.”
Smiling, he pulled her to him and kissed her, keeping one eye on Darya pulling herself out, only to turn back around and jump back into the water.
“Damn, I panicked,” Rori muttered, shoving against him. “I never panic.”
Laughing, he pulled her with him, wiping water out of his face. “Kids apparently are a different ball game.”
“Wouldn’t know.”
He thought of what she’d told him last night. The fact she’d stayed with him. “I thought you’d be tired and still asleep.”
She stood waist-deep in water, the one-piece swimsuit molding her like a leopard-print glove. His gut tightened and he stepped toward her.
She backed up. “No.”
He grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I left mine upstairs,” she said, shoving water at him. “Which is precisely where you should have left yours.”
He laughed, grabbed her wrists and jerked her to him. “I never leave my sense of adventure anywhere.”
She wrapped her arms around him as they stood in the center of the pool. “Well, it better currently be left at one location.”
“Jealous? That just warms my heart to hear you say.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why does your family have two pools?”
Trying to change the subject . . .
“Probably because one can’t swim outside in the winter and they wanted an indoor pool bigger than the one outside. I have no idea. Don’t care.”
She shook her head and he reached up, running his hand over the short hair. “Your hair is shorter than mine. And it is just so bloody sexy.”
Her eyes narrowed and then cleared.
Darya yelled to him. “Ian!”
He jerked around at the sound of his name from the child at the side. Slightly disjointed, not a smooth sound, but precious all the same.
“G’blimey, she speaks.” Rori let go of him and he swam out deeper, standing in front of Darya, who stood on the side.
She grinned and he realized he hadn’t ever seen her this happy. This total child exuberance over something as simple as jumping in the water. He wanted to see this excitement, this pleasure in her all the time.
She leaned down, bent her knees, and touched the pool edge on either side of her toes. Then she pushed off and dove cleanly into the water, swam to him, and popped up giggling again.
“Maybe I should put her in swimming and diving lessons,” he thought aloud.
“Next you know,” Rori said, from her perch on the side of the pool, her thighs wet from the water, “she’ll be in ballet lessons or some such.”
He shook his head and met Rori’s gaze. “I was thinking more karate.”
“Thank God. Ballet is beyond me.” Then she shook her head. “I think tae kwon do would be better.”
He looked at Darya smiling up at him and nodded. “You may be right. We could start teaching her now.”
Rori nodded then frowned.
God, they sounded like . . .
Rori smiled, stood and dove in.
Ian shook his head and focused on Darya. He tossed her high and caught her, her giggles belly deep and heartening, even as they were alien to his ears. But he didn’t care. He wanted to hear them again and again.
Ian held Darya in his arms as they swam in the indoor pool. He held her under her arms and swung her through the water in a circle around him, water spraying Rori, who splashed them back.
Her giggle tickled inside him and he wanted to hear it again. And again.
“You’re going to make her sick you keep going in circles like that,” Rori told him as she began her own lap across the pool.
“Get your workout out of the way and then you can play.”
She glared at him and took off.
This time, Ian tossed Darya in the air, then caught her just as she hit the water, splashing water up above his head.
He was leaving in two days and knew right now he didn’t care. Right now was about now.
A woman he was probably in love with swimming laps, a daughter who barely spoke English, brought to life hope in him he’d long ago forgot existed. This was what was real.
At least for the present.
He didn’t want to think about tomorrow.
Chapter 25
November 17, 7:03 p.m.
The dinner was quiet. Brayden and his family were leaving in the morning for a trip to Louisiana to see Christian’s family. He made certain they were taking Tanner with them. He and his brother had argued, but at the threat of just sticking them in a damn safe house, he’d finally won.
Aiden and Jesslyn were thinking of flying out to Colorado. He was trying to talk them into it. But then John needed to go and he needed John with him or maybe here when he left.
He still hadn’t told anyone he was leaving.
The doorbell rang, and silverware clinked against china as everyone turned to the d
oorway.
Ian shook his head. Pete stood there, his expression grim. “I apologize for interrupting your dinner.” He nodded to both of Ian’s parents. Then those eyes zeroed in on him. “Something’s come up.”
Ian wiped his mouth, laid his napkin on the table and walked out of the room, meeting Rori’s questioning look.
Again, they walked back to his father’s study. When the door was shut, Pete wasted no time. “We need to move the date up a bit.”
Ian walked around the desk and sat down. “Why? I thought it was all set for this weekend.”
Pete nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It was, but with the leak, I figured if we moved early, the chances of complications arising would be slim.”
Ian frowned. True.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Ian sat forward. “Tonight?”
Pete nodded.
Ian’s mind raced. There were still things to do, things to see to. Before he’d just packed up and left anytime he needed to. But now?
Now he had Rori, Darya . . .
The rest of his family.
He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “What time?”
Pete paced, seemingly lost in thought.
“Pete.”
“Oh, as soon as you’re ready. Can you dress here? And how long will it take?”
“To become,” he dropped his voice and added the accent back, “Dimitri Petrolov.” He glanced at the clock on his father’s desk. Almost seven. “At least an hour. I need to make my hair a bit longer.” At least he hadn’t shaved in two days. There was one bright side to his migraine. He would look more the part of the hired hit man.
“This is going to go smoothly,” Pete said.
“Pete, things can always go wrong, my friend.” How easily he could slide back into lives he wanted to leave behind. “You waiting?”
Pete nodded.
“Then go to the dining room and get something to eat. God knows there’s enough.” With that Ian hurried upstairs to his and Rori’s room. He took the black bag down off the top shelf of the closet and walked to the bathroom.
Inside was a case. He opened it. To one side were pieces of hair. He hated hair extensions. They took too damn long. He could go with the wig. He glanced at his watch. He’d have to use the wig.
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