The Baby Contract

“Tradecraft theory.” It was a written test, and he wouldn’t need to be in the room while she wrote it.

“That doesn’t give me any time to study.”

“You don’t get to study.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair.”

“This is about what you know, not what you can cram into your brain overnight.”

“I’ll be with your sister overnight.”

“Shall we say ten a.m.?”

Drake began to vocalize in Troy’s ear. The crying was going to start any minute.

“You’re not going to give me any chance at all, are you?” she asked.

“I’m giving you exactly the same chance as anyone else. Is there a bottle around? I’m no expert, but I think this guy might be hungry when he wakes up.”

Mila came to her feet and turned for the kitchen. “I don’t believe you.”

Troy followed. “That he’ll be hungry?”

“Ha-ha.” She passed through to the kitchen. “That you give all of your employees a pop quiz on tradecraft.”

“I do.”

She removed a baby bottle from the fridge and turned on the hot water. “You want me to fail.”

“I expect you to fail. That’s not the same thing.”

She held the bottle to warm under the running water. “You also want me to fail.”

Drake was whimpering now, taking in deeper breaths, obviously working up to something more impressive.

Troy went around the island, moving closer to Mila and the bottle, wanting to pop it into Drake’s mouth just as soon as it was ready.

“I don’t know what you think you’ll achieve,” he said. “Why put yourself through this?”

“I want a job.”

“I’ve already told you I’m not hiring you permanently.”

She looked up at him. “I’m trying to change your mind.”

He fought against the distraction of her crystalline green eyes. He knew she thought this was simple. It was anything but.

“It won’t work,” he told her.

“We don’t know that yet.”

“One of us does. Honestly, Mila, save your strength. You can’t talk me into it, and you can’t seduce me into it.”

She shut off the tap. “I don’t want to get a job by seducing you or anyone else.”

He lifted his brow in disbelief. “Then why did you try it this morning?”

“It was a lark. I was curious to see if it would work.”

“It didn’t,” he lied. “I didn’t give you a job.” He could at least cling to that.

She handed him the bottle. “I’d have turned it down anyway.”

“Now who’s lying?”

She seemed to think about that. “You’re right. I’m lying. I’d have taken it. Sad, isn’t it?”

“That your moral fortitude isn’t all that you’d like it to be?”

He doubted many people could make that claim. He sure couldn’t.

Drake let out a cry. Instead of answering Troy’s question, Mila handed him the bottle and headed back to the dining room table.

Troy moved the baby across his left arm as he walked, putting the bottle into Drake’s mouth, wiggling it so that he latched on. It didn’t feel as awkward as it had the first few times Troy had fed him.

“You’re not going to answer, are you?” he asked her.

“Would you?”

He took the chair cornerwise to hers. “I’ve got no claim on moral fortitude.” He made the decision to toss it back out on the table. “I kissed an employee this morning.”

Mila didn’t look up from the laptop. “She kissed you back.”

“Vegas deleted the footage.”

She nodded. “I really wasn’t thinking about cameras.”

“I’m always thinking about cameras.”

She did look up then, an expression of skepticism on her face.

“Maybe not in that precise moment,” he admitted.

He hadn’t been thinking about anything but her.

“If the video got out, I’m not sure who it would be worse for, you or me.”

“Worse for you inside Pinion. Worse for me anywhere else.”

She gave a considered nod. “That sounds about right.”

“I do have moments of intelligence.”

For some reason, she glanced sharply up. “You have nothing but intelligence.”

The compliment surprised him.

“That’s why I’m here, Troy. I want to learn from you. I looked at all of my options and realized you were the guy with the most to teach me.”

Something flipped over in Troy’s stomach. Her expression was open, honest and heart-haltingly gorgeous. And he couldn’t think of anything more gratifying than teaching her everything he’d ever known about security and everything else.

But he couldn’t let himself go there. He couldn’t teach her the trade. He’d be teaching her how to die.

Five

In the wings offstage, Mila scrolled through the messages with hashtag KassidyKeiser and KassidyRocks. It was exciting to see them coming through by the minute, but disconcerting to try to keep up. She breezed past the comments on Kassidy’s singing, her choice of songs and tonight’s outfit. Mila couldn’t help but smile at the female fans’ oohs and ahhs over the sexily unkempt drummer.

Coming up on midnight, Kassidy was gyrating her way through the second set. The club was full again, with a line on the sidewalk outside. There were Kassidy Keiser posters on the wall, and they’d even printed some Kassidy Keiser drink coasters. Mila had a feeling that the nanny’s salary was not going to be a problem much longer.

Eileen arrived by her side.

“T-shirts,” she said to Mila in a loud voice above the guitar solo. “I’m ordering T-shirts and hats.”

“Did you print the coasters?” Mila asked.

Eileen nodded. “And the posters.” She pointed to the nearest one. “See the pattern of the purple spotlights?”

“I do,” said Mila.

“I’ve got a graphic design company using that and a silhouette of Kassidy’s profile to come up with a logo.”

“Nice.”

“It always helps when the talent is gorgeous.”

“Kassidy is definitely pretty.”

It was covered up most of the time with funky hair, exaggerated makeup and wild clothes. But Kassidy was a very beautiful young woman.

“She’s going all the way,” said Eileen.

Mila scanned the crowd. Everyone was on their feet, pressed up close to the stage. She was willing to bet they’d broken the fire code a few hours back. The club had to be making a killing.

She glanced back down at her phone, continuing through the endless stream of texts. Then a word popped out and she halted her thumb, scrolling backward.

A text from someone called MeMyHeart said, Drake’s one lucky little boy.

A few pictures had been posted by fans online of Kassidy with Drake in his stroller. People could easily assume she was his mother. But to find his name? That would have taken a significant level of investigation.

Mila tapped MeMyHeart, finding a dozen other messages from the past hours. Judging by the message content, MeMyHeart was here. She scanned the audience, but it was dark and chaotic. Everyone out there would have a cell phone.

Her heart rate had kicked up, and her instincts told her to call Troy. But she stopped herself. Slow and methodical, that was still the best course of action.

Instead, she called Pinion’s main number, getting Edison.

“It’s Mila. Can someone check a cell number for me?”

“What’s the reason?”

“They’re tweeting about Kassidy, and it looks suspicious.”

“Can do,” said Edison. “Forward the tweet.” He rattled off a number.

“On its way.” She continued her visual scan of the audience, checking for expressions that seemed too intent on Kassidy, maybe not so much into the music.

“Hang on,” said Edison. “Everything else okay there?”

“The place is rocking.”

Edison chuckled. “Don’t tell the boss I said so, but his sister is smokin’ hot.”

There was a crackle on the line, and then Edison’s tone abruptly changed.

“Vegas wants to talk to you,” he said.

“Sure,” said Mila, moving slightly back in an effort to get away from some of the noise.

“It’s a burner,” said Vegas.

“The phone?”

“Whoever sent the tweet used a burner phone. But they’re close, within a two-block radius, probably there.”

“You read it?”

“Yeah. You want backup?”

“I’m not pressing the panic button,” said Mila. “It could be nothing. I’ll get as many pictures as I can.”