The Baby Contract

“Got a minute?” she asked Kassidy.

“You bet. Want a coffee? Gabby’s making pancakes, breakfast for me, lunch for Drake. Have I told you that I love her? I love, love, love her.”

Mila laughed. Kassidy had been singing the nanny’s praises ever since she was hired. “You may have mentioned it once or twice. Drake eats pancakes?”

“Mostly he plays with them. But a little bit gets ingested.”

“Yes to the coffee. No thanks on the pancakes.”

Kassidy led the way to the kitchen. “What do you want to talk about?”

Mila extracted the picture of blazer guy from her shoulder bag. “Does this man look familiar?”

Kassidy accepted the picture.

“Hi, Mila,” Gabby greeted from where she stood over a frying pan, flipper in hand.

She was in her early twenties, good-humored, down-to-earth. She had a diploma in early childhood education and had just become engaged to a chiropractor. She was willing to work flexible hours, and Drake adored her.

“Was that at the performance last night?” asked Kassidy.

Mila had been careful to keep Kassidy from getting unduly worried or upset. So she hadn’t shared a lot of information with her.

“I saw him texting a few times that coincided with messages you received. It’s a bit of a long shot, but if there’s anything you can tell me about him?”

“Vaguely familiar,” said Kassidy, squinting at the picture. “If he’s been up front at the stage before, I probably remember him from that.”

Kassidy handed the picture back and reached for Drake. “Come to Kassidy, sweetheart. Are you hungry?”

Gabby handed Mila a cup of coffee.

Mila inhaled the aroma. “Thanks.” She took a drink.

Kassidy sat Drake in his high chair, fastening a clean bib around his neck.

“One more question,” said Mila. It was even more of a long shot, but she wanted to be completely thorough on the Drake angle.

“Sure,” said Kassidy.

“Did you know Drake’s father?”

Kassidy froze. The color drained from her face.

“Kassidy?”

“No,” Kassidy said brightly, giving Drake’s shoulders a squeeze and smoothing his fine hair.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“You faltered there.”

Kassidy looked up. “It was a rough time. The guy was a one-night stand. And then Drake’s mom got sick. The whole thing was very upsetting.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mila, but her brain was ticking about a hundred miles an hour.

There was something about Drake’s father, something that had Kassidy worried. It was an outlandish theory. But could the stalker be Drake’s father? Could blazer guy be Drake’s father?

Mila finished her coffee and headed back to the bullpen.

Charlie was gone, but Troy was staring at her monitor.

Her chest tightened at the sight of him. Her pulse jumped and butterflies formed in her stomach.

Troy looked up, his expression smooth and professional.

She schooled her own.

“This is from last night?” he asked.

She moved to where she could see the screen. “Yes. That’s the blazer guy I said I thought was suspicious.”

“There’s something...” said Troy.

“What is it?”

“He looks familiar.”

“You know him?”

That was significant.

“I can’t place him.” Troy picked up the phone and dialed. “Take a look at the picture up on Mila’s computer.”

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“Vegas,” Troy told her. “Anything?” Troy said into the phone. Then he waited for a moment. “I’ve come across him somewhere before. Why can’t I remember? It’s definitely been a few years.”

Another moment passed.

“Are you sure?” Troy asked Vegas. “Yeah. This might be something completely different. I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone.

“What?” asked Mila.

“I know that guy. This might have nothing to do with Kassidy. It could be about me.”

Mila wrapped her head around the theory. It was possible. The same way the Drake link was possible. She hated having so many tenuous threads.

“Kassidy might have crazy fans.” Troy rose and started for the door. “But I’ve ticked off some very dangerous people over the years.”

Mila followed, coming at Troy’s theory from as many angles as she could muster. “Why target her?”

“To get to me.”

“There are easier ways to get to you.”

“Not really. I’m cautious. I’m prepared. I’m always armed.”

“I don’t mean get to you as in harm you. I mean upset you.”

“I’m pretty upset.”

They made their way down the hall to Vegas and Troy’s office.

“It started when she was in New Jersey.”

“So?”

“So, the two of you were estranged. You said yourself, you only saw her once a year.”

“She’s still my half sister. I’ve always stepped up when she needed it.” He marched through the office doorway. “She’s in my building. She’s in my apartment.” He spoke to Vegas. “We need to do a full sweep.”

Mila looked for flaws. The notes to Kassidy were personal. The writer seemed to be obsessing about her and Drake, not about Troy.

“Where does Drake fit in?” Mila asked.

“He’s incidental.”

“He’s mentioned in the posts. You’re not.”

“So what? He’s part of her life, part of my life. This is a whole lot bigger than a rabid fan.”

Vegas was on his cell, heading for the door.

“Don’t let Kassidy out of your sight,” Troy called to him.

“I’ll go,” said Mila.

“I want Vegas.”

“I can handle it,” said Mila, moving to follow.

But Troy grasped her arm to stop her. “This is above your pay grade.”

“Excuse me?” She tried to shake him off, but his grip was tight.

“I’m not leaving this to you. You’re inexperienced, you’re temporary, you’re—”

“Female?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You’ve said it a thousand times.”

“This isn’t about you being a woman.”

“This is all about me being a woman. It’s another of your knee-jerk reactions.”

He glared at her in obvious anger.

“This might be about you,” she allowed. “But it could still be about Kassidy and Drake. It could even be all about Drake.”

“Drake?”

“Yes.”

“Based on what? Evidence? Facts? Because I definitely recognize the guy. That means he’s somewhere in my past.”

“You don’t remember where. It could be anywhere. Don’t ignore everything else.”

Troy’s jaw tightened.

“There’s a very good chance you’re wrong,” said Mila.

They stared at each other, their gazes locked. Emotions raced through her—frustration, annoyance, anxiety, exasperation. At least it wasn’t sexual attraction. She had that going for her.

“Are you looking to get fired?” he ground out.

She kept her stare level and steady. “I was never hired.”

“Kassidy likes you. That’s the only thing you have going for you. You can stay and follow my orders, or you can leave, right now.”

Mila wanted to leave. She’d take great emotional satisfaction from turning on her heel and walking away.

But that wouldn’t help Kassidy. And it wouldn’t help Drake. They were innocent in all of this. If Troy was wrong, if he fixated on the wrong problem, the two of them could be in real danger.

It was better to stay and do what she could, everything she could, even if it meant going behind Troy’s back, following her own leads and risking his wrath.

* * *

Later in the week, Vegas sat in a leather armchair in Troy’s living room. He had a computer printout in his hand, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. “I warned her not to sleep with you.”

Troy stared back, anger warring with disbelief.

“Maybe I should have told you not to sleep with her.”

“She told you that?” Troy was shocked to think Mila might have confided in Vegas.

“She didn’t have to tell me a thing.”

“Then you’re guessing.”

“Your judgment is clouded.”

Troy’s gaze flicked to the closed door of Kassidy’s room. Mila was with her in there. She’d chosen to stay, and she’d agreed to take direction from Troy.

“My judgment is fine,” he said.

“Why did you do it?”

Troy decided to brazen it out, force Vegas to put his cards on the table, if he had any cards. “What makes you think I did?”