The bodyguard was there, intercepting him, but if that was a bomb, weren't they in the danger zone?
"There are at least two reporters present," Conrad said. Almost like a warning.
She couldn't tear her eyes away from the bundle at the man’s chest.
And then she realized it was wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket. A baby blanket.
"It's a baby." Tears of relief pricked her eyes. "He's got a baby. Not a bomb."
She glanced at the men to find Conrad looking at her as if she'd spoken Swahili. Valentin hadn't looked away from the approaching man.
"It's okay," he called out to the bodyguard, who glanced back at him and then let the guy through.
And she realized why the man looked familiar.
It was Max. Valentin's brother.
Oh no.
She glanced at Conrad, and this time they were on the same page. They needed to get Valentin out of there.
More people had gathered, some on this side of the street. They were watching and pointing and whispering.
Valentin seemed frozen in place as Max approached. He stared at the bundle at his brother's chest.
Max had several days' scruff at his chin and looked more rumpled than she'd ever seen him in photographs.
He glanced briefly at her and Conrad but didn't waver from his course toward his brother.
"What are you doing here?" Valentin asked. She'd heard that same cold tone in his voice in his office that first morning.
"I told you, I need to talk to you."
The baby let out a wail, and Valentin jerked.
"Meet your niece. Clara."
Valentin stood still and expressionless. A muscle jumped in his cheek.
Max exhaled loudly, looking off to the side. "This isn't easy, is it?” he said. “I'm sorry."
He sounded genuine. But Crystal didn't know the man. Maybe he was a consummate liar.
Valentin didn't respond.
A shout from behind them drew Crystal's attention. The crowd was pressing closer. Perhaps they'd sniffed out a family scandal unfolding right before their eyes. The bodyguard was using himself as a buffer, arms outstretched to keep the people at bay. But one man wasn't going to stand long against that many people.
"Get him out of here." Conrad pressed something cold into her hand. Car keys. Then he joined the bodyguard to try and hold back the press of people.
She moved behind Valentin and touched his arm. He surprised her by gripping her hand. He was burning up, his skin hot to the touch.
"We need to leave," she murmured.
Max's gaze fixed on their joined hands. "Who's this?" His smile was genuine, not flirtatious.
But Valentin bared his teeth, his entire body going tense. He started to pull away as if he were preparing to throw a punch.
"Don't—" she said quietly.
