CHAPTER TWO

"A son?"

The word son coming from Logan caused Veronica's chest to compress and made it impossible to breathe. There was a loud rushing in her ears, but it wasn't enough to drown out the no, no, no reverberating around her brain. Her hands shook dislodging the bottle from Bailey's mouth and the baby started to mewl. I understand, Rabbit; Mommy wants to cry too. Veronica popped the bottle back in Bay's mouth and gently rocked, whether to comfort the baby or herself, she wasn't sure.

"His name's Tyler." Pam was no longer slouching in her chair. Her eyes were bright and her features animated as she rushed to tell Logan about her child. "He's amazing. I didn't realize I could love someone so much" —she smiled— "But I'm preaching to the choir, right? You already know how that feels." Pam waved toward Bailey.

Veronica found her voice. "How old is he?"

Pam didn't seem to notice the tremble in her voice, but Logan did. He reached across the table to touch her shoulder and Veronica flinched. Concern filled his eyes and tugged the corners of his mouth into a frown.

"He just turned five. I put him in this great preschool at…"

Pam was still talking, but Veronica was no longer listening; she was too busy trying to do the math in her head and compare the dates to Logan's journal entries. He'd slept with Pam off and on through the years only stopping once he started to date Carrie –five years ago. It was possible. The tension in her body transmitted itself to the baby and Bailey started to bawl.

Run. "This isn't working." Veronica slammed the bottle on the table. "I'm going to have to nurse." Standing, she whisked Bailey from the kitchen and hustled down the hall to the sound of Logan calling her name. She locked herself in their bedroom.

Unbuttoning her shirt as she crossed the room, she undid the clasp on the nursing bra and tried to get Bailey to latch. Instead of subsiding, her cries were growing louder and her scrunched face was an angry red. "Ssh, it's okay, it's okay."

The doorknob started to turn. "Veronica." Twist, twist, twist. "Veronica, open the door."

The crying is going to wake Wyatt. Abandoning the bedroom, she ducked into the bathroom and kicked the door closed behind her. She turned on the water in the sink, wet one of the baby washcloths and gently stroked it across Bailey's face. Veronica cuddled her close and started to sing the same lullaby she used with Wy when she was a baby. "Tura lura lura, Tura lura li, Tura lura, lura, hush now don't you cry."

Sitting on the toilet lid, she continued to sing and rock as Bailey's cries diminished; moving from deafening wail to loud squall and finally to pathetic bleats. Her little lips quivered as she sucked in gulps of air. "I'm sorry, Rabbit." Veronica wiped Bay's face and readjusted her position so the baby could nurse. One crisis over. She stood, turned off the water, and returned to the bedroom only to come face to face with Logan.

"How did you—"

"Key." He slapped the metal key onto the dresser. In her haste she'd forgotten that all the doors in the house had keys hidden on top of their frames just in case Wyatt ever accidentally locked herself in a room.

Walking past him, she crossed the room and settled into the overstuffed, club chair Logan had purchased for her. It was a comfort rocker with a matching ottoman and it was designed for nursing moms. His constant thoughtfulness made her want to cry and she screwed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"He's not mine." Logan sat on the ottoman and lifted her legs onto his lap.

"How do you know?"

"Pam told me."

Her eyes snapped open. "Oh, Pam told you; I feel so much better now." Pulling her legs off his lap, she put her feet on the floor. "Did you even consider that maybe she's lying to you?"

"I trust Pam."

And he had good reason to, but it didn't mean that Veronica had to trust her. She frowned. There was a flaw in her logic that she didn't want to examine too closely so she pushed it away. "The last time I helped someone you trusted, it didn't end well."

At her churlish comment, his brows knit in confusion. "Trina wasn't guilt—" He stopped speaking as realization dawned. Standing, he moved away from the chair and her. "But you're not talking about my sister are you? God, Veronica" —he dragged a hand through his hair— "I can't believe you're bringing up Mercer." Logan smirked. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised though – you're acting just like her."

It was Veronica's turn to be confused. "Her?"

"Old Veronica – Hearst Veronica."

She blanched. "That's not—"

"Fair? Is that what you were going to say? Well, tell me how this is fair? The way you're acting." He stalked toward the door. "The only reason you know about my relationship with Pam is because I let you read my journal so in essence I confessed something and you're judging me for it – just like old times."

"I'm not judging you, I'm—"

"Semantics," he interrupted, dismissing her objection with a wave of his arm. "Not judging, but you are holding it against me." Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, he turned back to her. "And for the record, I didn't ask you to help."

He yanked open the door, hard enough to make it bounce against the wall, and stalked from the room.

Veronica wanted to call him back, to apologize, but she didn't. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either. This wasn't her judging or holding something against him. This was… different, dammit. Bringing up Mercer probably wasn't the best way to get her point across, but Logan was being less than understanding.

She glanced at Bailey. Sleepy and relaxed, she'd stopped suckling and her hands were no longer clenched in tiny fists. Veronica started humming, gently rocking the baby, and stroking her hair.

He's not mine. She frowned. Did Pam correctly guess the reason for Veronica's hasty retreat from the kitchen and volunteer the information? Or, worried that Tyler might be his son, did Logan ask? She didn't know why it made a difference to her, but it did and she also knew it wasn't enough. Pam telling Logan Tyler wasn't his didn't prove anything.

But if she was going to lie why not say he was Logan's? He would be more apt to help her if it was his child being threatened. Pam could've started with that news and the money would've been guaranteed. Instead she told him the story and withheld the information about Tyler's existence. Why? Veronica shook her head.

She didn't trust Pam, but she owed her. Without Pam's intervention, Logan wouldn't be here. There would be no Wyatt, no Bailey. It wasn't just Logan's life Pam saved, it was this life.

Carrying the baby into the nursery, she put her in the crib, and double-checked the monitor. She lingered, leaning over the rails to watch Bailey sleep. Even if she didn't help Pam, there was no way she'd let her leave the house and their lives without knowing for sure the identity of Tyler's father.

After a quick stop at Wyatt's bedroom door to check on the sleeping toddler, Veronica returned to the kitchen. Pam was still at the table nursing her coffee and Logan was on the phone. The moment he saw her, he turned away and crossed the kitchen, giving her a wide berth. "In cash," he said to the person on the phone and Veronica sighed.

She joined Pam at the table. "Tell me about this party. There was Sam and his two goons?" Pam nodded. "And the three guys you'd never seen before- they were the ones selling the coke?"

Instead of answering, she put down her mug and leveled Veronica with an assessing look. "You don't want Logan to give me the money, do you?"

"I don't care about the money." Veronica shrugged. "It's just not going to solve your problem."

"Logan thinks we can find a way to return it without them knowing where it came from."

Of course he does. Veronica pressed two fingers against her eyebrow to stop the twitching. "Was the rest of the club empty during this party?"

She shook her head. "The club operates on the first floor —it used to be some fancy estate— and the bedrooms on the second floor are the private VIP rooms."

"As in, more than one?"

"There are four; we were in the largest."

"What about the other three, were they occupied?"

Another head shake from Pam. "The entire second floor was off-limits."

So business as usual on the first floor, but no uninvited guests upstairs- only the six shady guys and the five dancers, including Pam. "How many—"

"The money will be here tomorrow morning." Logan sat heavily in the same chair he'd occupied earlier —the one close to Pam— his body turned away from Veronica. "I still don't like the idea of you and Tyler being alone."

This must be the continuation of the conversation they were having while she was feeding Bailey. Veronica wasn't surprised at Logan's concern, but hearing the easy way he said Tyler's name, pricked at an already tender spot.

"I think the two of you should stay—"

"With Dick," Veronica interrupted, glaring at her husband. "You could move into his beach house, at least temporarily. The neighborhood's patrolled by private security, he's got a great alarm system, and you wouldn't be alone."

"Same beach house?" Pam's question was directed at Logan.

Riight. According to his journal, Pam spent a lot of time on the beach with him and Dick in the weeks before Logan left Neptune. Veronica watched Logan, waiting for the answer. Was it the same beach house? The place where we conceived Wyatt.

"No" —he fixed Veronica with a hard stare— "But it's just as small."

She dismissed his claim with a casual, "Plenty of room." Shifting in her chair, she peered into Pam's mug. "More coffee?"

"No… thanks. I think I'm wired enough as it is." She gave the empty cup a forlorn look and then said, "Veronica's right, Logan, giving them the money won't fix things and neither will staying with Dick. I think I should just go."

If he was angry before, now he was downright pissed. The muscle in his jaw was ticking so loudly the inevitable explosion was going to be a showstopper. He turned an accusing eye on Veronica. "What did you do?"

"Stated the obvious." Her usually bright husband was being purposely obtuse. "But I didn't say we weren't going to help." Veronica was done with his misguided notion that he was doing this alone. She was going to help him and Pam whether he liked it or not. "Where was Joey— that's his name, right? The guy who got you involved in this mess in the first place?"

Pam nodded. "Joey Bianchi."

"Where was he during this drug buy?"

She frowned. "Downstairs I think. He's a permanent fixture at the club." Her lips thinned. "Not so much to run things, but for the girls."

There's a story there. Veronica earmarked it for another time and place. Preferably a time and place without Logan present. He was too close to the edge of doing something Logan-ish —read: dangerous— and one more man-behaving-badly story would push him over the line.

"How does he get along with Sam? Are they friends?"

"Not friends." Pam's answer was automatic and decisive. "Whenever Sam's around, Joey suddenly has something to do in the office." She paused, considering, and then continued. "He acts like they're friends though, but there's this undercurrent… to be honest, I think Sam scares the shit out of him."

"When you get your stuff to move to Dick's, I'd like to see your business agreement. The paperwork you signed when you became partners with Joey."

Logan's leg stopped bouncing under the table and he grew still. "What are you thinking?"

"That Joey didn't want a partner- he wanted a patsy."

If Joey owned Shenanigans first and Sam muscled his way into the business, Joey would be stuck- his legitimate business now acting as a front for… well, shenanigans. "You said your dancer… Karen?" Pam's nod confirmed the name. "That she hasn't come back to the club and has disappeared?"

"She didn't take the money, Veronica. She's just a kid." Pam's shoulders slumped and her eyes dimmed. "They probably thought she'd be easy to break because she's young."

"If she's not coming back to work, that means you're short a stripper, right?" She had a vague feeling that she'd asked herself this very question —how naked are you willing to get for a case— once or twice before.

Logan was already shaking his head, knowing exactly where she was going with her questions. Her smile was glib. You're not the boss of me.

Pam's gaze swung to Logan and then back to Veronica, eyebrows high on her forehead in surprise. "You want to dance at the club?"

Veronica nodded. "It's the best way for me to meet all the players and find the missing money. Will the" —she waved a hand over her shirt— "lactating be a problem?"

She cocked her head, lips twisting in a jaded smirk. "No, in fact there are some guys who will pay extra for you—"

Logan sliced his hand through the air, preventing Pam from finishing. "Let me get this straight, your plan is to go undercover as a stripper in a club run by the mob?"

"I have all the necessary equipment." She plucked at her collar, pulling it from her skin, and peered down the front of her shirt while Logan grew apoplectic. Pushing him further, she said: "And I can dance." Veronica clapped her hands together. "Plus I won't have to pay stage fees or share my tips."

A deep angry flush spread up the nape of his neck, making Veronica almost regret using her pep-squad perky voice – almost.

"Daddy! Potty!" Tiny bare feet thudded against the hardwood. Wyatt was done with diapers and the baby gate across her door, but she refused to go into the bathroom alone. Middle of the day or middle of the night, it didn't matter, she wanted company for wiping and hand washing and Logan was usually her first choice. "Daddeee!"

He slowly got up from his chair, giving himself a minute to cool down before going to help their daughter. Veronica would have volunteered to go instead, but that would only result in a Wyatt mini-meltdown.

Wyatt was doing okay with the events of last spring —she wasn't afraid of the pool and her bad dreams were few— but anytime something unnerved her, like going to the bathroom alone, she wanted Daddy by her side. Even though he didn't specialize in children, Logan had taken Wyatt for a few sessions with Dr. Feelgood just to make sure she was coping. His pronouncement that she was a well-adjusted, intelligent, and happy child only made Logan quip, 'are you sure she's ours?'

With a slight hesitation and a backward glance at the tableau of his wife and ex sitting at the kitchen table, Logan left the room. "I'm coming Jellybean."

"Where Wabbit?"

Veronica smiled at the question. Wyatt was enamored with her baby sister, always needing to know where she was so she could bestow tiny nose kisses and provide her with endless chatter.

She turned to Pam. "Where's Ty" —Veronica changed the question— "Where's your son now?"

"At the motel with my friend Reina." She looked at the oversized wall clock hanging next to the window. "I really should get back soon."

Veronica nodded in agreement. "Logan can have Dick help you move." Focusing on the table, she swept up imaginary crumbs. Keeping her tone casual, she asked: "So why preschool and not kindergarten?"

"You know, maybe I will take another cup of coffee." Pam edged her cup closer to Veronica. "Do you mind?"

By way of an answer, Veronica stood with the cup and crossed to the machine to brew more coffee – a cup of regular for Pam and decaf for herself. While the Keurig did its thing, she did hers, leaning against the counter and readying her next question. "What made you decide to move to California?"

"I like it here."

It wasn't that she was expecting Pam to suddenly confess —I moved here so Tyler could be closer to Logan— but she was being cagey and it was setting off alarm bells in Veronica's head. Bells? More like sirens. "Was Tyler born here?"

"No."

Vegas it is then. Veronica carried the mugs back to the table. "When can I start dancing at the club?"

Pam blinked; the change of topic momentarily threw her. To cover, she picked up her coffee and took a sip. "You're going to need a song and a routine."

"I'll rent Striptease," Veronica murmured into her cup.

The other woman frowned. "Most of the women working at the club have been dancing for years. You're going to have to be good and… you'll need to audition for Joey." She leaned back in the chair. "If you're really serious about doing this, I can help you."

"Cookies!" Wyatt raced into the kitchen shouting the word like it was a war cry. Spotting Pam, she came to a sudden halt and craned her neck to look for Logan. Only a few steps behind her, he appeared before Wyatt decided to flee.

Another lasting effect from her encounter with Gina – strangers, especially women, made Wyatt uneasy. She wrapped an arm around Logan's leg and rested her head on his thigh. His presence made her bold enough to ask, "Who you?"

"This is Daddy's friend Pam," Veronica supplied.

Her face scrunched while she considered the information and then she tilted her head back to look at Logan as if for confirmation. He scooped her up, carrying her closer. "Pam this is Wyatt."

Pam's lips twitched in amusement. "Hi Wyatt," she said, standing so they were at eye-level. "It's nice to meet you."

Wyatt stared at her for a beat and then started squirming to get down. Logan put her on the floor and she made a beeline for Veronica, scrambling onto her lap. Now at a safe distance, she gave Pam a tentative smile, and a backward wave.

Pam returned the wave and then bumped shoulders with Logan. "Only you would name your daughter, Wyatt." She laughed. "Is her middle name Freedom?"

Logan grinned. "Sadly, no, but maybe for the next one."

"I'm surprised Bailey wasn't Billy."

"This close," he answered, holding his thumb and forefinger a breath apart.

Pam's smile widened and she tossed her arms around him in an impulsive hug. "You're such a jack—" She bit off the end of the word with a quick glance at Wyatt. "I won't say it, but know that you are one."

"Aw, I missed you too." Logan draped an arm across her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.

The more time they spent together, the more relaxed and comfortable they seemed to be in each other's company. Give it another hour and she'll be sitting in his lap, whispering in his ear. Veronica abruptly stood, scratching her chair against the floor. "Do you want to have your milk and cookies at your table, sweet pea?"

"Cookies!" Wyatt clapped her hands together.

Putting her on the floor, Veronica turned toward the pantry. "Go on inside and I'll bring them to you."

She started skipping for the living room, stopped to look at Pam, and offered her a quick —"Bye-bye" — before continuing inside without waiting for a response.

"She's beautiful." Pam elbowed his side. "What's that saying? Daughters are God's revenge on fathers for the kind of men they were when they were young?"

Logan shook his head. "Well then I'm fucked."

"Probably," she agreed with a grin and then her expression sobered and she glanced at the clock again. "I really need to get back to Tyler. Do you need to call Dick and ask him if it's okay?"

"I'll call him from the car."

Veronica whirled around, milk sloshing from the uncapped sippy cup. "Car? Where are you going?"

"To help Pam move and meet Tyler."