His Christmas Assignment. Lisa Childs

had never had a problem recognizing fear in others. She heard it now in Stacy’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

      And what had Garek told her?

      “I’m losing him.”

      “Milek?” That was who they were talking about? Candace had never had a problem with the younger Kozminski brother, but she’d never had a relationship with him either. Not that she had a relationship with Garek either. She’d had just that one, unforgettable night...

      Stacy’s breath escaped in a shaky little sigh. “I think I already lost Milek. And now I’m losing Garek, too.”

      “Have they quit, too?”

      Stacy shook her head. “No. They both get along with Logan.”

      Candace couldn’t suppress a smile. Men were so simple. They could go from being archenemies one minute to best friends the next. Maybe that was why she’d always gotten along better with them than women. “Then I don’t understand what you want me to do. If Logan can’t help you mend fences with your brothers, I certainly can’t.”

      “I don’t want you to help me mend fences,” Stacy said.

      Her patience worn thin, she asked, “Then what do you want?”

      Stacy’s dark gray eyes glistened as tears welled in them. “I want you to help me stop Garek from getting himself killed.”

      While she hated to admit it, she found herself leaping to his defense. “He’s handled himself well in a lot of dangerous situations. He’ll be fine.”

      “Not this time,” Stacy insisted. “Not with these people.”

      “Did he take that assignment with the starlet?” That was another reason she’d gone off the grid and rented a place with no TV and no internet. She hadn’t wanted anyone or anything to find her—to disturb her peace. If only she’d really found peace...

      Stacy shook her head. “No. Logan sent Milek. Garek had already taken another assignment—one he sought out on his own. He’s going back to his old life, Candace. He’s working for Viktor Chekov.”

      Candace should have felt vindicated. It was what she’d been saying about him all along—that he hadn’t changed. But over the past year she had watched him closely, nearly as closely as he’d watched her, and she’d never seen any evidence that he was still a thief. He’d worked hard—nearly as hard as he’d teased and flirted with her.

      Had she actually been right about him?

      Her legs weakened, and she felt the need to sit down. So she dropped onto the edge of the rental’s lumpy couch. Of course he’d always had that effect on her—that ability to make her knees weak—no matter how much she had fought her attraction to him. She should have kept fighting.

      “What does any of that have to do with me?” she wondered.

      “He didn’t take that assignment until you left,” Stacy said, and now there was anger and resentment along with tears in her eyes. “You drove him back to his old life.”

      She laughed at his sister’s outrageous claim. “That’s ridiculous.” Garek would have actually had to care about her for her leaving to affect him. And it just wasn’t possible that he did.

      “I know my brother,” Stacy said. “I know he really liked you. But you never gave him a chance.”

      He definitely hadn’t told his sister anything about that night.

      “So he’s gone back to his old life,” Stacy continued. “To Viktor Chekov. Those people are dangerous, Candace.”

      She didn’t need to tell her. As a former cop, Candace knew exactly how dangerous Chekov was. While he’d never been convicted, he had committed every crime on the books. The last news she’d heard as she’d driven out of the city had been a report that Chekov’s right-hand man had been executed. While the reporter hadn’t dared to speculate, it was clear that everyone thought Chekov was the killer.

      “They’re really dangerous,” Stacy said, her voice shaking with fear. “Garek’s in trouble.”

      * * *

      Garek was in trouble—more trouble than he could have even imagined. He couldn’t get Candace out of his mind. And he couldn’t afford the distraction right now—not with the dangerous game he was playing.

      What if he’d been followed to this meeting? He’d watched the rearview mirror and hadn’t noticed anyone tailing him. But instead of the road behind him, he’d kept seeing Candace: her blue eyes wide with shock as she’d stared up at him, her lips red and slightly swollen from his kiss.

      What if he’d missed a tail? He reached beneath his jacket and closed his hand around his weapon as he stepped out of the SUV. Nobody was going to get the jump on him. But he still could have been followed. And if someone saw him with the person he was meeting...

      From an alley between two buildings, beams of light flashed. On and off. On and off.

      Garek glanced around the deserted industrial area. Had anyone else seen the signal?

      He could detect no movement but the December wind tossing snowflakes around the night sky. Maybe he hadn’t been followed. But he still had that uneasy feeling, that tingling between his shoulder blades that made him feel as if he was being watched.

      The lights flashed again. Of course he was being watched by the person who waited for him inside the other SUV. Garek glanced around once more before heading toward the alley. He moved, as he always did, quickly and silently—keeping to the shadows.

      Slipping between the SUV and the building beside it, he pulled open the passenger’s door. No dome light flashed; the person he was meeting knew all the tricks of maintaining his anonymity. In his line of work, he wouldn’t have lived long if he hadn’t.

      FBI agent Nicholas Rus had done a lot of undercover work in his career with the Bureau. Before Garek had agreed to work with the man, he’d checked out his background. He didn’t care that Rus was related to the Paynes—that with his black hair and blue eyes, he looked eerily like the twins Logan and Parker. The FBI agent hadn’t been raised with them, by Penny Payne, so Garek questioned his integrity. He didn’t know too many people who were beyond corruption—besides the Paynes.

      “Why you acting so nervous?” Rus asked as Garek slid into the passenger’s seat. “I didn’t notice any tail coming in behind you. Did you see a suspicious vehicle?”

      “No.” But that didn’t mean that he hadn’t been followed. He peered through the tinted windshield, trying to see beyond the alley.

      The snow had thickened, now, from flurries to sheets of white. The mild winter was over; the cold and snow coming in earnest now. He couldn’t see anything out there anymore. But whoever was watching him wouldn’t be able to see either.

      Rus sighed and murmured, “Guess you’d be an idiot if you weren’t nervous...”

      “I was an idiot to let you talk me into this,” Garek said.

      “You’re the only one who could do this,” Rus said. “Viktor Chekov wouldn’t have let anyone else inside, and there’s no time. We have to recover the murder weapon before he ditches it.”

      “If he hasn’t already,” Garek said. “He’d be a fool if he hasn’t.” And Viktor Chekov was nobody’s fool.

      Rus shrugged. “The witness says he hasn’t.”

      “The witness could be lying.” Especially if the witness was who Garek suspected it was. Viktor would not have killed in front of her.

      Rus shrugged again. “That’s why we need the murder weapon.”

      “We need more,” Garek said. “We need an admission of guilt.” Because that witness would never testify—for a few reasons.

      Rus