Page 67 of Secrets from the Past

Kaylin shook her head. “I dreamed of so many places. Of moving to a desert island, of getting lost in Paris, of hiding in the Australian outback because Cesare’s scared of spiders, especially the big ones.” She rolled her eyes, and Nico recalled Sasha, the spider who’d lived in the blue bathroom in Moscow, the eight-legged freak Kaylin wouldn’t let anyone kill. The day Timofey had accidentally stepped on him, she’d cried all afternoon. “But I never made actual plans.”

“Well, now you can start considering your options.”

“I don’t have a job, not anymore.”

As if that mattered. “I’ll fund a fresh start wherever you want to go.”

Don’t cry. That sniffle was alarming, and Nico produced a clean handkerchief from his pocket. Kaylin began twisting it in her hands.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear. It might take me a while, but I’ll do it. And for the rescue.”

Unlikely. Emmy was nothing if not efficient, and even with a “friends and family” discount and the initial favour taken into account, the invoice that landed this morning had been over a million bucks. Worth every cent, but still not a sum Kaylin would be repaying any time soon.

“Let’s not think about that at the moment.”

Nico wanted Kaylin’s stay at the Peninsula to be a pleasant one. He could worry about the future while she relaxed in the spa and walked on the beach with her son. Because they were only fifty percent of the way to freedom. There was still that pesky murder charge to deal with, and the small matter of the Mob lurking in the background. Blackwood was quietly—very quietly—working to trace the missing witnesses from the Bluebird Inn, and Emmy had given Nico two tasks before they went their separate ways last night: first, find out what really happened that night, and second, learn whether Kaylin had any information to trade. She’d spent nearly four years with Cesare Cavallaro—what did she know about his business, if anything? Proving Kaylin innocent was the goal, but if that was impossible, an immunity deal was the next best option.

But that would have to wait because a wail came from upstairs.

“Mama!”

Kaylin was on her feet in an instant.

“I shouldn’t have left him for so long.”

“I’ll set up the baby monitor while you do…whatever it is toddlers need.”

Emmy had handed the monitor over yesterday. It had come with a warning that the store-bought versions contained a multitude of security flaws. Had Blackwood made use of them in the Cavallaro apartment? Nico considered that a reasonable possibility. He also considered it likely that Emmy had built a backdoor of her own into her parting gift, but on balance, he’d rather have her watching Matteo than an ill-intentioned stranger.

“He needs to go potty. Then I’ll make his breakfast—do you have any plastic utensils?”

Nico glanced toward the mountain of baby products in the living room. Three of the housekeeping staff—all of them mothers—had spent yesterday in Coos Bay, buying everything Matteo might need. They’d earned every dollar of their overtime pay.

“I should imagine so. What do you need? A plate and cutlery?”

“And a sippy cup. I think I saw one of those near the top of the pile.”

Who knew such a small person could need so many accessories? A Baby Shark Swim ’n’ Play bath toy? A Rockin’ Unicorn? An Under the Sea Activity Gym? The only toys Nico could remember from his childhood were a selection of plastic guns and an electric Ferrari.

By the time Kaylin reappeared with Matteo, Nico had dug out two sets of dinnerware and three sippy cups, plus some kind of fleecy all-in-one suit in fetching tiger stripes, a Magna Doodle board, and a bag of dried apple slices.

“Is there a website where I can learn what all this stuff is for?” he asked. “Or a book? What’s this thing with the straps? It looks like something from a fetish club.”

Kaylin studied the packaging for the Hip Sling 3000. “I think it’s a carrier.” Then, “You’ve been to a fetish club?”

Time to change the subject. “I was curious. Let’s get breakfast.”

“Want Shelley,” Matteo said, reaching out a hand.

“Are there any toys in that pile?”

“Undoubtedly. What does Shelley look like?”

“She’s a snail. Knitted, not furry.”

Nico began rooting through. “We have…a mouse?”

The kid shook his head.

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