Nico (Ruin & Revenge #1)(11)

Ginger didn’t even have the good grace to look guilty. Instead, she just shrugged. “Things are expensive. I gotta pay rent, utilities, car payments, the dog had to go to the vet…”

“You took the dog to the vet instead of feeding our child?”

“I knew she’d live. Scamper wouldn’t.” She gave him the look—that fucking look that drove him out of his mind, the look of a scheming woman who told a man she was on the pill when she wasn’t because he was the first decent man to cross her path and she wanted to keep him. “You got no right to come in here and criticize how I raise Daisy. You chose your work over raising your kid. The criminals of Vegas get to spend more time with you than her.”

He hugged Daisy to his chest. “I told you a hundred times, Ginger. It’s not the hours. It’s the danger. I’m doing stuff that could come back on you and Daisy, and I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

She snorted a laugh. “What? You’re afraid someone’s gonna beat down our door ’cause you handed out a parking ticket? You just like to big yourself up when we both know you’re a nobody. A beat cop who’s never gotten off the street.”

One day he’d tell her the truth. He’d tell her how he’d moved up quickly through the ranks of the Las Vegas police to become a detective, and how even that wasn’t enough to feed his need for adrenaline. He’d tell her how he’d been offered an undercover job, and after it was done, he was hooked because the rush he got when he was shoulder to shoulder with the criminals, walking their walk and talking their talk, was like nothing he’d experienced before.

And he was good—damn good—able to fit into almost any social group, mimic their speech and body language, wear their clothes and drive their cars. No one had ever made him for cop, and no one ever would. He’d been undercover in the mob for ten years now, answering to another name, living another man’s life. Although he wasn’t a made man, he was a trusted associate. If they found out who he really was, they’d kill him where he stood. And then they’d go after his family—but only if there was a family to find.

Which was why he’d given up custody of Daisy to Ginger. Now all he had were visitation rights—every Tuesday evening, and weekends, if he was free.

The door banged and Gabe appeared in the doorway wearing only a ratty pair of sweatpants, a gold chain, and a ball cap. Ben had never seen him with his shirt on, and he felt surprisingly jealous of Gabe’s rippling muscles, giant revolver chest tat, and washboard abs. Sure, Ben kept himself in shape. Although he was undercover, old habits died hard and he’d never missed a workout when he was a uniformed cop. He still worked out every morning, and ran five times a week. But Ben wasn’t twenty-two any more. Nor did he take steroids that could be the only reason Gabe looked swollen like a circus balloon.

Gabe threw an arm over Ginger’s shoulders and Ben caught the shadow of a tattoo on his arm. If he ever became a made man, he’d get a tattoo to mark the occasion, maybe a daisy for his daughter. Or not. As far as Ben knew, only one undercover cop had ever been made, and Ben was damn sure he would never be number two because his assignment was finally supposed to be coming to a close.

“Ben.”

“Gabe.”

“Kinda late to be showing up to take our little princess out on the town. A person might think you don’t give two fucks about your kid.” Gabe lifted his chin toward Daisy, and Ben’s skin prickled. He’d had a bad feeling about Gabe the first time they met, and the feeling got worse every time Gabe looked Daisy’s way.

“She’s my fucking princess, and I got no say when I gotta do overtime.”

“Don’t swear in front of the kid.” Ginger lit a cigarette and leaned against Gabe.

“I’m Daddy’s fucking princess,” Daisy said, delighted, knowing Ben wouldn’t correct her. She was smart for a six-year-old. She already knew how to work Ben’s guilt.

“And pretty like her mama.” Gabe groped one of Ginger’s breasts, and she laughed.

“We just went at it for two hours straight, and you’re wantin’ more?”

Bile rose in Ben’s throat. He didn’t want Gabe thinking Daisy was pretty, or calling her anything other than her name. Hell, he didn’t want him anywhere near his little girl, but what the fuck could he do? He thought he was doing the right thing, giving up custody to keep her safe. Now he was beginning to think he had failed her.

Gabe grinned. “Maybe Ben will take her out for a midnight ride and I can fuck you on that pretty princess bed he bought for her birthday.”

Ben didn’t know if Gabe was a sick bastard or just messing with him, but unless he had probable cause he couldn’t touch the fucker, nor could he call his handler, Jack Freemont, and ask him to send someone to arrest Gabe for being a dick.

Fuck. He needed to get out. Once the damn job was over, he would challenge the custody order. He’d go back to detective work. Regular hours. Steady income. Nice house in a nice neighborhood with good people around. No judge was going to deny him custody, especially after he explained how Daisy’s home life had gone downhill since Gabe came on the scene with a full-on swagger and a car full of blow.

He checked his watch and shifted Daisy to his back so he could piggyback her to his car. He had a blue Volvo and a work truck he drove when he was in his Mafia skin, but when he drove out to the sticks to see Daisy, he used the Chrysler 300 the police had bought for him as a bribe the day he met Gabe and threatened to take Daisy and walk off the job.