The Baby Contract

Drake squealed again. He didn’t seem upset or angry, more jubilant than anything else.

Troy poured another handful of cereal onto the tray in front of Drake. The majority of the rounds would end up on the floor, but they kept the little guy entertained, and usually they kept him quiet.

The video had continued playing, so Troy pulled it back to the beginning, settling in with his coffee to watch. Jack ignored the waitresses. He ignored the crowd. His attention was completely focused on Kassidy.

He could see where Mila was coming from, but he also knew he recognized the guy. And that was both significant and worrisome. The mathematical odds of a fan posing a danger to Kassidy were slim. The mathematical odds of someone from Troy’s past posing a danger to his family were a whole lot higher than slim.

He took in the man’s expressions, his walk, his stance. He’d heard a little bit of the guy’s voice over Mila’s microphone last night, but it wasn’t clear enough to gauge.

Who on earth was this guy?

“There you are, pumpkin,” said Kassidy, wandering into the kitchen in a printed satin robe.

“You’re up early,” said Troy.

Drake squealed.

Troy smiled. “He’s happy to see you.”

“Of course he’s happy to see me. Does he need a bottle?” Her voice changed to high-pitched baby talk. “You want Kassidy to bring you a bottle?”

“Bah,” said Drake, slapping with his hand.

Troy’s curiosity got the best of him. “You don’t want him to call you Mommy?”

Kassidy stubbed her toe on the counter. “Ouch!”

“You okay?”

“No. Ow. Darn, that hurts.” She hobbled to the table, cringing as she lowered herself into a chair.

“Are you really hurt?”

“Just give me a minute.” She scrunched her eyes shut and breathed deeply.

Drake kicked his feet, squealing in a tone that sounded annoyed.

“Kassidy?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you want Drake to call you Mommy?”

“Sure. Yes. Eventually.”

“Are you having second thoughts about the adoption?”

Her eyes popped open. “No! No, Troy. I’m not having second thoughts. Drake is part of this family. Get used to it.”

Troy held his palms up in surrender.

“Can you get him?” she asked.

“Sure.” Troy stopped the video and rose.

Kassidy might be frustrating, but none of this was Drake’s fault. Troy unfastened the safety belt, and the baby was immediately climbing to his feet. Troy couldn’t help but smile at the antics. The kid definitely knew his own mind.

Troy brushed off the stray cereal and lifted Drake into his arms.

“You’re getting stronger,” he told the kid.

“Bah.”

“Soon I’ll have to take you to the gym.” Troy did a mock exercise with Drake’s chubby arm. “I’m a pretty good drill sergeant. You’ll be buff enough to get any girl you want.”

Troy’s thoughts turned to Mila, her struggles on the obstacle course. Her killer naked body wrapped around his.

“Then again,” he said quietly, “sometimes the girl’s buff enough to get you.”

Drake tugged at Troy’s lower lip.

“Can you picture it?” asked Kassidy.

Troy stared at his sister. Did she know what he was talking about? Had she guessed that he was powerless to resist Mila?

“What?” he asked cautiously, hoping he could come up with an explanation on the fly.

“The gym, with Drake, when he’s older. Do you see yourself in his life?”

Troy felt a rush of relief. “Sure. Why not? If he doesn’t have a daddy around, he’s going to need me.”

Kassidy blinked rapidly, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“Hey,” Troy cooed. “What’s this?” He moved to her.

“My toe,” she answered, her voice thick. “No, it’s not my toe. It’s you, Troy. You’re stepping up.”

Troy hoisted the wiggly Drake. “You mean with this little guy?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll admit, I don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not sure it’s the right thing. But I’ll be here for you, Kassidy.” He thought back again to the house on Appleberry. She’d been so incredibly young back then. “I probably should have been here for you a long time ago.”

She shook her head, coming to her feet, unexpectedly wrapping her arms around him. “You’re here for us now, big brother. That’s all that counts.”

“I’m here for you now,” he said, wrapping his free arm around her.

* * *

Mila woke up alone on top of her bed, still dressed in Kassidy’s clothes, a comforter keeping her warm. It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning, and she had no idea how late Troy had stayed. He’d obviously carried her to the bed. The realization was both heartwarming and unnerving.

She wondered if he’d slept at all. She was guessing not. He was probably chasing down leads for his own pet theory, which meant she was already running behind on her work. Would he hold it against her? Would he see her falling asleep as a sign of female weakness?

She swung her legs off the bed and headed for the shower. She needed to redeem herself, to demonstrate her analytical abilities, to remind him she was more than just a good-time girl.

She twisted the shower taps to full and stepped into the spray. Last night had been a mistake. And she knew she should regret it more.

Okay, she should find a way to regret it at all. Because she didn’t. Right now, making love with Troy was a warm, exotic memory. Forget regret—she wanted to do it all over again.

This was bad. It was terrible. She might have undone every bit of her hard work. Nobody was going to take her seriously now, least of all Troy. And if he told anyone else—

She felt suddenly cold. Would he tell anyone? Would he tell Vegas?

Vegas was her best ally at Pinion, and she’d promised him she wouldn’t sleep with Troy. If Vegas lost faith in her, if he thought she was fickle, if he thought she was weak—

She groaned under the hot spray. She’d worked hard for this chance. She wanted to be strong and in control, to take on both physical and mental challenges. She wanted to work with a top team and keep others safe. But the chance was rapidly slipping from her grasp. She had to stop the slide.

She squirted some shampoo into her palm, pushing her brain back to Kassidy and Drake, and back to Jack.

Troy would be looking at the man’s connection to himself. It followed that his staff would be looking there, too. Mila needed to come at it from Kassidy, or even from Drake.

Suds running down her neck, her earlier theory came to mind again. It was outlandish, but it wasn’t impossible. Jack could be Drake’s father. Kassidy might not even know.

She hadn’t reacted to the picture of Jack. But she’d sure reacted to the question of Drake’s father. Maybe she knew Drake’s father was dangerous, but maybe she didn’t know who he was.

A chill came over her. If that was true, she needed concrete evidence to take to Troy. Because if she was right, they needed to protect Drake as much as they needed to protect Kassidy.

She threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Her car was still at Pinion, but she didn’t have any time to waste. She hailed a cab and went directly to the airport. She didn’t have much to go on, only the name of the hospital and Drake’s date of birth.

She’d try the hospital first. If that didn’t work, she’d go to public records. She might be able to talk her way into getting at least partial details.

It took her two hours to get to New Jersey, and less than ten minutes to get shut down by the hospital staff. By midafternoon, she was fighting a losing battle with the department of vital statistics. Without parental permission, she was not getting her hands on Drake’s birth certificate.

She tried to explain that his mother was dead, and his father was unknown. She even pretended the query was related to Kassidy’s adoption, hoping they’d have Kassidy’s name on file. She was told to get a lawyer and a court order.

Defeated, she left the building, pausing on the stone steps, traffic whizzing through the intersection in front of her.

“Problem?” asked a well-dressed man in his late thirties.

He moved up the steps toward her, flashing a friendly smile.

“No problem.” She looked away.

“Get what you were looking for?”

“I did,” she answered, starting to walk.

He fell into step beside her. “It doesn’t look like you did.”

“And what exactly would that look like?” As soon as the question was out, she wanted to kick herself. She’d just played into his hand.

“You wouldn’t look so defeated. You’d have kept walking.”

“I am walking.”

“And you’d be carrying a manila envelope.” He nodded to a couple who were also exiting the building. “Like that one.”