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“She’s good with a gun. Her reaction time is acceptable, so is her judgment under fire.”
“A ringing endorsement,” Vegas drawled.
“What do you want me to say?”
“She scored 100 percent in the tactical house.”
“Lots of guys do that.”
“And we hire them.”
“Are you making a point?” asked Troy.
“What are you going to do if she aces it all?”
“She’s five feet four, less than a hundred and twenty pounds. There’s no amount of training, grit or determination that gets her through the obstacle course.”
“True enough,” said Vegas. “Your sister is on her way down.”
Troy glanced at the elevator camera feed to see Kassidy inside with a crying Drake in her arms. She looked exhausted, her purple hair messy and her makeup smeared.
“I’m glad we don’t have audio,” said Vegas.
“This is ridiculous,” said Troy.
“Might be a good time to suggest she rethink her life plan.”
On the monitor, the elevator doors opened. Down the hall, Drake’s piercing cries echoed along the passage.
The sound grew inexorably louder until Kassidy came through the doorway.
“He’s teething,” she said.
“So you brought him here?” Troy’s question sounded like an accusation.
“I needed to talk to you.”
“We’re trying to work here.” Even as he admonished her, he found himself taking the blubbering Drake from her arms.
He had no desire to be anywhere near the shrieking, soggy, slimy baby, but Kassidy looked as if she was about to keel over. There was simply no other way to avoid imminent injury to both of them.
He put Drake to his shoulder, cringing as the kid’s snotty nose came into contact with his neck.
“His gums are all red and swollen,” said Kassidy.
“Can you give him something?”
Surely modern medicine had come up with a cure for swollen baby gums. Aspirin came to mind, or maybe a little whiskey. A little whiskey might also put the poor kid to sleep for a while.
“I have,” Kassidy wailed. “More than once. It’s supposed to numb his mouth. But it doesn’t seem to help at all.”
A numbing agent struck Troy as a decent idea. Still, Drake continued to cry in his ear.
“How’s the nanny search coming?” he asked her.
“The service wants a deposit.” Kassidy bit her bottom lip. “I was wondering...”
She looked sweet and defenseless in her pretty pastel blouse and yoga pants.
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll add it to the total.”
“You don’t have to say it like that,” she snapped back.
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t expect me to ever pay it back. I’m going to pay it back.”
Vegas stepped in. “Have you ever paid anything back?”
Kassidy turned on him. “I’m earning money now. More money than ever. It just takes a while for it to get into the pipe. There are up-front costs, and...”
Troy tried jiggling Drake, figuring the motion might distract him.
Vegas arched a look at Drake. “And it’s a pretty expensive new hobby you’ve taken on.”
“He’s not a hobby,” said Kassidy. “He’s a human being.” She took Drake from Troy’s arms as if to rescue him. “What is wrong with you people?”
“I said yes,” Troy pointed out. “Tell the service to invoice me.”
“They want a check up front.”
“Fine. Whatever. Just find a good nanny.”
Twin tears formed in Kassidy’s big eyes, and Troy felt like a heel.
Before he could apologize, Mila appeared, taking in the scene.
“What’s going on here?” she asked Troy. “What did you do?”
It was her turn to take Drake from Kassidy’s arms.
“Me?” Troy asked.
“Why is everybody crying?”
“He’s teething,” he found himself answering.
Mila put a hand on Kassidy’s shoulder. “Did something happen? Did you get another email?”
Troy jumped on the non-baby topic. “Another email?”
Kassidy was shaking her head.
“She desperately needs some sleep,” Mila said to Troy. “She’s got a gig tonight.”
“And that has what to do with me?”
Mila frowned at him. “Nice.”
“What nice? I just told her I’d foot the nanny bill.”
Mila handed Drake back to Troy.
“You have got to be kidding,” said Troy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vegas smirk.
“I’m putting Kassidy to bed,” said Mila.
“I’m working.”
“I’ll be back.”
“You have five minutes,” he told her.
She rolled her eyes in response, ushering Kassidy out the door and down the hall.
Drake’s cries turned to blubbers.
“Well played,” said Vegas.
“Shut up,” said Troy.
“Do you think Mila will come back?”
“If she doesn’t, I’m hunting her down.”
Troy rubbed a hand up and down Drake’s back, his sympathies engaged. He tried rocking the baby, hoping to lull him to sleep. The poor kid sure hadn’t won any prizes so far in life.
* * *
Troy paused to listen outside his apartment door. He preferred to cook his own dinner, but if Drake was up and crying, he’d head down the block to The Devon Grill.
Silence.
He slid his key card into the lock, opened the door and crept cautiously into the foyer. All he could hear was the whir of the heating system, and then clicks as someone typed on a keyboard. He moved around the corner, bringing into view his living room and the dining room beyond.
Mila was at the dining table. Her head was bent over a laptop computer, and the space around her was littered with papers. Her hair was in its usual neat braid. Her blue T-shirt was stretched over her slim shoulders. And Drake was sleeping against her, balanced on her arm, his face tucked into her neck.
Troy moved quietly across the carpet to where she could see him, having no desire whatsoever to speak and wake the sleeping baby.
She caught sight of him and looked up. Then she pointed to Drake and put a finger across her lips.
“Where’s Kassidy?” he whispered.
“Sleeping.”
“No nanny?”
Mila gave a small shake of her head. “There’s one coming by at seven for an interview.”
“What about the last one? She seemed okay.” In Troy’s mind, expediency was more important than perfection in the circumstances.
“She only does occasional work.”
“Oh. Well, could she come occasionally tonight?”
Mila smiled. “Hopefully the new one will work out.”
Drake squirmed against her.
“Can you put him in his crib?” Troy asked.
“I tried a few times. He just woke right up again.”
“We’re waking him by talking.”
She glanced down at the baby. “I guess I can’t let him sleep forever.”
Troy wasn’t ready to discard that as a valid approach to child rearing. Babies definitely seemed easier when they were fast asleep.
Then she gave a grimace. “My arm’s asleep.”
He heaved a sigh and gently gathered Drake to nestle him against his own shoulder.
“Thanks,” said Mila, rubbing her left arm.
She met Troy’s gaze for a moment, and then seemed to remember the awkwardness of their morning. She quickly glanced down at the table.
“I’ve been working through some club records,” she told him, moving some of the papers around, her words rapid, tone louder.
Drake wiggled some more against him.
“For Kassidy’s last twenty gigs. I convinced the clubs to give me credit card records for ticket sales and drinks, and I’m loading the names into a database. So far, I’m not seeing any distinct patterns. And a lot of people pay cash at the door, so I don’t know how far this will get us. But it’s a start.”
“Repeat customers?” he asked, moving so he could see her computer screen.
“Some. I’ve got more data to enter. Then I’ll track down photos and see where facial recognition gets me.”
Troy had to admit, it was a solid start to the investigation. He couldn’t fault her work so far.
He gazed down at her profile, noting the cute slope of her nose, the translucence of her skin, the length of her dark lashes and the intense color of her full lips. He remembered kissing them. Even now, he could feel their heat, taste their sweetness, and he experienced that potent rush of hormones all over again.
She glanced up, looking instantly startled by the expression on his face.
He quickly cleared his throat, tamping down the desire to drag her into his arms. “Are you up for another test tomorrow?”
It took her a beat to answer. “Which one?”
