by Lisa Childs
But Milek wasn’t the only one who’d experienced loss. The room went suddenly and completely silent. And the crowd parted as a silver-haired man walked through it—heading straight for Nicholas.
He had seen surveillance photos of Viktor Chekov. He had even seen him through a lens himself when he’d personally staked out the man. But Chekov looked different in person. Less ruthless. More haggard.
He had aged in the past few hours.
“Special Agent Rus,” the man said. It wasn’t a question or even much of a greeting. He was just acknowledging he knew who Nick was. “You’re the one in charge.”
Again an acknowledgment. Not a question. Was this where he swore vengeance on Rus and his entire family?
Garek had warned him that would happen. Viktor Chekov was vengeful and ruthless. He wouldn’t forgive a betrayal—any betrayal.
Nicholas spared a glance to his family. He had only begun to admit what they meant to him. Would he have to leave them now—before he’d even really gotten to know them—to be part of them?
For their safety, he would. He would do what was best for them rather than himself.
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m in charge. The whole operation—the assignment—was my idea. Not Garek Kozminski’s. I forced him to take part in it.”
Viktor laughed, but without humor. “What—did you threaten his family? That’s the only way to force Garek Kozminski to do anything.”
“I talked him into it,” Nicholas insisted. Maybe he could convince Chekov that Garek had done it to find out what Nick had known about the murder of Milek’s ex-girlfriend and son. The gangster might buy that…
But Garek didn’t know what he knew. Rus had only admitted vague things to Milek.
“You didn’t talk him into saving my daughter’s life,” Viktor said. “He could have shot her like he shot the man working for her—the men. But he spared her life. And then when she tried to take her own, he stopped her.”
The bullet had only grazed Tori’s forehead instead of killing her—like she’d wanted. Garek had saved her life.
“I want you to spare her, too,” Chekov urged him.
Stunned the man could even ask such a thing—or rather demand—Nicholas shook his head. Was he going to threaten or offer him a bribe here? In a crowded waiting room of witnesses? Maybe the daughter wasn’t the only crazy one in the Chekov family.
“She killed a man,” Nick said. “She admitted it. She also killed the guy she hired to go after Candace. And she ordered those hits on her.”
Maybe Chekov would go after Candace, too. He turned his attention to her as she stepped into the waiting room. Her wrists were bandaged from where she’d torn them up getting untied. The woman was fearless. Viktor wouldn’t be able to scare her out of testifying against his daughter.
Garek stepped into the room behind her, his hand on her waist. Maybe it was for his own support since he limped. But Nicholas suspected it was because he couldn’t not touch the woman he loved.
Chekov tapped his shoulder, drawing Nick’s attention back to him. “You can arrest and convict Tori,” he agreed. “But she’s not the person you really wanted.”
Nicholas focused on the older man again. “What are you saying?”
“Hers is not the arrest and conviction that will make your career.” He tapped his chest. “I’m the one you want.”
Nick shook his head—not in denial, though, just amazement. “Yeah, I want you,” he admitted, “but not like this. I won’t let you take the fall for someone else’s crimes.”
“I’m not suggesting that,” Chekov said. “Pick a crime—any crime you want me to confess to, and I’ll do it.”
“What?” His mind reeled with the offer. “I still can’t let her off.”
Chekov sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement. “Work a deal for her,” he suggested. “As tough as she thinks she is, she wouldn’t survive in prison. It’s not the place for her. She belongs in a psychiatric hospital.”
“He’s right,” Candace chimed in.
Nick had seen them enter the room, but he hadn’t heard her and Garek make their way through the crowd to join them. Even with a limp, the former thief moved silently. And Candace must have lost her shoes during her ordeal that night because she wore hospital slippers instead of heels.
“You would agree to that?” Nicholas asked the female bodyguard. “She tried to kill you—several times.”
Candace sighed. “She’s messed up. She needs help.”
Garek looked less convinced, clenching his jaw as he stood closely by Candace’s side.
Chekov must have recognized Garek’s resistance because he beseeched him, “Let her get help.”
No one had helped Garek years ago—when he had gone to jail. Nicholas would understand if he refused to help the man who had threatened him and his family.
But Garek sighed. “She needs to stay there,” he said. “She’s a danger to others and herself. This can’t be some short stint in a country club.”
“It won’t be,” Nicholas assured Garek while also warning Chekov. “She’s going to serve a long sentence.”
“As long as she gets help,” Chekov said and nodded his agreement. “Can I see her?” he asked. “Before I go with you to your office? Can I say goodbye to her?”
Nick nodded. There were guards with the woman; she wouldn’t escape with her father. But he believed it wasn’t what Chekov wanted. He really wanted her to get help—to heal—so much so he would give up his own freedom for her.
“She was wrong,” Candace murmured. “Her father really does love her.”
Garek heartily slapped Nick’s back. “You did the freaking impossible. You got Chekov to serve himself up on a silver platter.”
“You did it,” Nick said. He couldn’t claim any of the credit. “If you hadn’t saved her…”
Garek shrugged off his accolades.
“If you hadn’t taken this assignment…” Unlike Chekov, Nick hadn’t threatened him to do it; he had only asked and the man had readily agreed.
Garek shook his head now, refusing any credit. “It’s all you, Rus. You wanted him. You got him. Enjoy your victory.” Garek entwined his fingers with Candace and tugged her toward the door. “I’m going to enjoy mine.”
“I’m a victory?” Candace asked. But she was smiling, her eyes shining with love for Garek.
“We’re alive,” Garek said. “That’s a victory and a cause for celebration.” But he stopped only to hug his family. He didn’t stay to celebrate with them. Like a man on a mission, he led Candace through the crowd.
Another hand slapped Nicholas’s back. “You did it,” Milek said. “You must be thrilled.”
But Nicholas felt no great thrill over what was the coup of his career. He felt only envy as he watched Garek and Candace leave the waiting room—hand in hand.
They were going home—to the house Garek had bought in the suburbs right before Nick had enlisted him in his investigation. He’d wondered then why a man everyone had considered a playboy had bought a traditional house like that; now he knew.
He had already fallen in love with Candace.
He had already begun to envision a future with her.
Milek probably couldn’t imagine the future anymore. But then he turned to Nick, and the knowledge was in his silver eyes.
While Nicholas hadn’t dared to say too much, he had apparently said enough. Milek finally knew the whole truth now.
*
Happiness warmed Candace. She felt none of the cold outside as they rushed—as fast as they could with Garek’s limp—into the house. He must have left the lights on because the Christmas tree twinkled.
Overwhelmed with the beauty of it and her happiness, Candace stopped in front of the tree and sighed. “It’s so…”
“What?” Garek asked, and his arms wrapped around her from behind, looping around her waist. He pulled her tightly back against his chest.
“Perfect.”
“I didn’t know you were s
o into Christmas,” he mused.
Candace laughed. “Neither did I.” She had always been such a no-nonsense girl. Not into frilly dresses or decorations or holidays. But she had changed. Love—real love—had changed her. “But now I have reason to celebrate…”
Or did she? She had professed her love, but he hadn’t professed his. Had he even heard her, though? She had just whispered the words as she’d left.
She needed to gather her courage and repeat them.
“We don’t have reason to celebrate yet,” he said.
“We don’t?” she asked, and she turned in his arms to face him. Desire ignited, heating her skin—making it tingle. She wanted him so much—loved him so much. “You heard Chekov—it’s over. He won’t go after us or any of our family.”
Garek chuckled. “No, he’s too appreciative she’s alive. That was some kind of Christmas miracle.”
“Yes…” She reached up to link her arms around Garek’s neck. “Thanks to you…”
But he slipped away from her, as he dropped to his knees. A grimace of pain twisted his chiseled features.
“Are you okay?” she asked, as concern and alarm and guilt filled her. She had only been thinking about desire earlier—about how much she wanted him. She’d forgotten he’d been hurt.
“I’m fine,” he said—despite the grimace. “I’m just looking for something…” He dropped even lower to the floor as he reached beneath the tree.
She knelt down beside him. “What are you looking for?” she asked. “Let me get it for you.”
“No,” he said. “I have it.” And he pulled out a small, brightly wrapped package. The silver metallic paper glittered under the lights of the tree.
“What is that?” she asked.
He held it out to her. “Open it and find out.”
She shook her head. “It’s not Christmas yet.”
“It will be soon,” he said.
She sighed as she realized he was right. They had been so busy—trying to stay alive—time had flown. “I know I went shopping with Tori the other day, but I didn’t start my Christmas shopping yet.”
He reached out and brushed his fingers across the bodice of her velvet dress. “You got this.”
“It was for me—not you.”
Desire glowed in his silver eyes. “Oh, no, it’s definitely for me…”
She smiled. He was always so charming. She had doubted his charm before, but she had no doubts about him anymore. She had nothing but love.
“Open the present,” he urged her.
Her fingers trembled against the bow. She couldn’t remember a man ever giving her such a beautifully wrapped gift—and ever showing such anticipation and excitement over her opening it. But she wasn’t used to being the receiver; she would rather be the giver—especially with Garek. She felt as if nobody had ever really appreciated him for the wonderful man he was.
“I can wait,” she said. “I can wait to open it when you open your present.”
She wasn’t certain what to get him, though.
As if he’d read her mind, he warned her, “You can’t buy me what I want for Christmas.”
“I can’t?”
“It’s nothing you can wrap up and put under the tree either.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“For you to open that damn present,” he impatiently replied.
She laughed. But she pulled the red bow loose and lifted off the top of the small box. There was another box inside that box—this one was velvet like her dress. She recognized the logo etched into the velvet. “This is from Stacy’s store…”
She’d always thought it so ironic the daughter of a convicted jewel thief designed jewelry and owned her own store. But she had also secretly admired and coveted Stacy’s beautiful pieces.
“You shouldn’t have,” she murmured.
He tensed, and the color drained from his face. “I shouldn’t have? Why not?”
“Stacy’s designs are beautiful…”
He smacked his own forehead. “But they’re Stacy’s and the two of you don’t have the greatest relationship after…”
Logan. She had never felt about her boss the way she felt about Garek, though. But before she could correct him, he continued, “Of course you wouldn’t want something she had designed.”
She laughed. “Of course I would. She’s brilliant and everything she makes is beautiful. I just meant you shouldn’t have gone to the expense or the trouble.”
He stared at her now, and his eyes widened in disbelief. “How can you not believe you’re worth every expense and all the trouble in the world?”
She shivered at the look in his eyes—at the intensity of that look—and what she saw in the silvery depths. He hadn’t said the words, hadn’t returned her feelings when she’d confessed to them, but the love was there. In his eyes. Nobody had ever looked at her like he was looking at her.
“You have gone to a lot of trouble over me,” she admitted. “You pursued me for a year, and then you nearly got killed coming to my rescue again and again.”
“And you were worth it,” he said. “Worth every minute I chased you, worth every hit and bullet I took for you.”
She laughed. But he didn’t. He didn’t even smile. He was actually being serious.
Her fingers shaking, she reached out and pulled the velvet box from the gift box. And she popped open the lid. She’d known she would be impressed by whatever was inside, but she had expected earrings. Or maybe a pendant. Perhaps a bracelet…
She hadn’t expected a ring. A brilliant round diamond sparkled from inside a ring of sapphires—all set in a shiny platinum setting. Her breath caught at the beauty and the implication. “This…this is a ring…”
Maybe it wasn’t what she thought it was—what she hoped it was.
“It’s a ring,” Garek said. He took it from the jewelry box and held it out to her. “You told me you loved me.”
She swallowed as emotion choked her. But she nodded in acknowledgment of the feelings she’d professed.
“Did you say it because you thought we weren’t going to make it?” he asked. “I didn’t say it, because I knew we would. And I wanted the first time I told you I loved you to be like this…”
“What is this?” she asked. Confusion and hope overwhelmed her. It could have just been a ring…
But as she’d learned, nothing was ever as simple as it seemed with Garek Kozminski.
“It’s a proposal,” he replied.
He was already on his knees. But he took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. Somehow it fit perfectly—as if he’d known her size. Or maybe Stacy had.
“I’m telling you I love you and I’m asking you to marry me. Will you marry me, Candace Baker? Will you be my partner in crime, my protector, my heroine, my soul mate?”
Her breath shuddered out at the shock. She had just noticed the love in his eyes when he looked at her; she hadn’t realized he loved her this much.
“Are you sure?” she asked. Because no man had ever professed his love to her, let alone proposed.
Anger flashed in his eyes, darkening the silver.
“I’m not rejecting you,” she assured him. “I just don’t—”
“You don’t know how beautiful you are,” he said, and now the anger was in his voice. “You have no idea how amazing you are.”
Tears stung her eyes—because she actually believed him. He said it with such sincerity and certainty and irritation. But then the anger and irritation was gone.
His fingers caressed her cheek. “You awe me,” he said. “With your beauty and your strength and intelligence.” Then his fingertips trailed from her face, down her neck to her breast. “And you have such heart—so much loyalty and devotion and love.”
The tears spilled, falling from her eyes to follow the path his fingers had taken down her face and throat.
“You said you loved me—”
“I do love you,” she said. “I love you so much. I love your he
art—your loyalty and devotion to your family. You are the amazing one. The strong one.”
“Then marry me,” he said. “Say yes.”
She couldn’t say anything—as the tears choked her. She could only nod and throw her arms around his neck.
*
Over the past year Garek had seen Candace in many states: embarrassed, angry, hurt, angry—he’d seen angry a lot. But he had never seen her as emotional as she was now.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Maybe he shouldn’t have yelled at her, but it frustrated the hell out of him that she thought so little of herself—she was so unaware of her beauty.
She was even beautiful when she cried. But he hated seeing her like this—hated even more that he’d caused her tears.
He clutched her closely, pulling her trembling body into his arms. “I should have known I’d screw this up,” he berated himself. “That I’d get it all wrong—because it means too much. You mean too much…”
She pulled back, and her hands cupped his face now. “Your proposal was perfect,” she assured him. “You’re perfect.”
He laughed at her outrageous claim. He was as far from perfect as a man could be. But maybe he shouldn’t draw it to her attention.
As if she’d read his mind, she smiled and amended, “You’re perfect for me.”
“We’re perfect for each other.” He leaned in and covered her mouth with his. She tasted as sweet and exciting as she always tasted, her tongue darting between his lips. He groaned but forced himself to pull back.
“So you will?” he asked. “You’ll actually marry me?”
She giggled—a sound he had never heard her make. And she nodded again.
But he caught her chin in his hand and held her gaze. “I need the words…”
“Yes, I will marry you,” she said. “I love you.” She glanced down at her hand. “And I love my ring.”
“And I love that dress,” he said—even as he tugged it off her. “I want to make love to my fiancée.”
Her breath escaped on a gasp. “You’re my fiancé.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he warned her.
She tensed for a moment—until he pushed her onto the floor and lowered his mouth to her breast. Then she melted into the floor with a shaky sigh of pleasure.