Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 2) (5 page)

"He's definitely been drugged," Knox said. "But it's wearing off now. Strong heartbeat, good breathing sounds."

"He's OK?" King said.

"Yeah."

"Lucky for you," he said to the men. "So now I can ask you a few questions about your employer. Is that cool with you guys?"

"Fuck you," said the one with the biggest death wish. "We ain't telling you shit."

King approached him now, watched the man's eyes get big in his face. The men were sitting at a long table that was scattered with playing cards and empty beer bottles. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and they were dripping blood all over the damn place. King figured a bit more damage couldn't hurt at this point.

He stood right behind the bigmouth. "I'll ask again. Who hired you to watch this baby?"

"And
I
said –"

King slammed the man's face on to the table, heard a crunch as his nose shattered. He lifted the man by his greasy hair and paused. "I'm sorry," King said. "What was that last part?"

The man wailed and King rolled his eyes.
Fucking amateurs
.

"You going to tell me, or do I need to knock out a few teeth?"

The man shook his head wildly. "No... no, don't!"

"You want to talk, then?"

"I can't! I don't know jack! I'm just the wheels man!"

"So which one of you
does
know jack?"

The man indicated with his chin to the guy at the end of the row. "Him!"

"Thank you for your cooperation," King said. He walked over to the other man now and glared at him. "Talk."

"Fuck you."

King sighed. "Moron." He smashed the man's face down twice. "Is that jogging your memory?"

"This is police brutality!" the idiot howled. "I'm gonna sue your asses!"

Tank laughed, the sound rolling out of his massive chest. "Fuck, man. We look like cops to you?"

The men squinted up at the team now.

"You ain't cops?" said the first one.

"Not even close," Honey said. "Which means that you got problems, boys. The cops won't come until we call them – and we won't call them until you talk. I should also call your attention to the fact that you've helped kidnap eight babies in four months, so expecting any sympathy from law enforcement is optimistic to the point of foolish."

They stared at her.

"And," Tex added. "Shit happens when a bunch of people like us storm a building to rescue a baby. People get beat up, people get shot. Cops won't be too worried about that, so long as you're semi-alive and can show up for your day in court. You savvy?"

Terrified, the men nodded now and King almost heaved a sigh of relief. They'd tell him who was running this operation and he'd pass it all on to a few cops he trusted and worked with all the time, off the record. They'd do what they had to do to get hard evidence and extract confessions the legal way, the way that actually stood up in court. King's way was effective, but it wasn't the stuff of court cases and his name never came up anywhere. King's Men never got any of the glory – and they were all just fine with that.

Hell, maybe they'd even find those other missing babies. King strongly suspected they'd been sold to shady adoption agencies and he hoped they were safe with some family. He hated to think how hurt the adoptive parents were going to be... unless they were in on it, of course. But beyond tonight, King wasn't involved. He'd done what he'd been hired to do,and that was find Freddie Karr.

They heard a siren now and King nodded at Knox. "Take him to the ambulance and go with them to the hospital. Call the parents and have them meet you there."

"OK." Knox carried Freddie away and King turned back to the men.

"So." He smiled at them. "Who's talking first?"

Chapter Four

Naomi stared at her work laptop in complete, total, utter shock. The bank balance in front of her made not one lick of earthly sense.

What the fuck?

She had checked the bank account before leaving work yesterday and it had contained just under seventy thousand dollars, thanks to an art gallery in Colorado Springs sending payment for a few sold items. But now? It stood at just under seventy thousand dollars – plus another million.

What the
actual
fuck?

Naomi picked up the phone and called Ryan Chang, the organization’s accountant. As she waited for his assistant to put her through, she stared out the window at the Rockies, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

Matt – did
you
do this?

There was a click. “Good morning, Naomi.”

“Hi, Ryan. I’m calling because –”

“Oh, I know why you’re calling, believe me.”

“Yeah. Where the hell did this money come from?”

“I followed up the second I got the e-mail alert and it turns out, it’s an anonymous donation. It was made yesterday through the accounting firm of Silvers and Edelstein, and they refuse to divulge their client’s name.”

Goddammit, Matt.

“They can do that?” she said. “Refuse us the name of the donor?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

“And we can still take the money?
That
much money?”

“I double-checked with legal this morning and yes, you can. No problem.”

“Wow.”

“Congratulations, Naomi. That’s an amazing contribution. You’ll be able to do a lot with that, huh?”

“Yes.” There were tears in her eyes now. “I would have been able to do
everything
with it.”

What a shame I won’t be able to accept it.

**

King glanced in the rear view mirror, carefully observing the back seat of the SUV. It was very quiet back there, which wasn’t a big surprise, but the level of emotional tension was.

Callie and Noah may not have been looking at each other – they were both studiously staring out their respective windows, actually – but their body language interested him. For two adults who had a hard time connecting with others and expressing emotion, they were doing all kinds of silent communicating.

Well, well.
This
is intriguing.

He pulled up in front of the Art With Heart Center. Despite his exhaustion from being at the hospital with Freddie's parents all night, he felt a bubble of excitement in his stomach. He hoped, with everything that he had, that Naomi was there now. After last night's ugliness and the stress of the past week, he needed to lay eyes on something bright and beautiful – even just from across the room and even just for a few seconds. That’d hold him for the day.

The three of them went in. Callie and Noah hung up their coats in the closet area, changed out of their outdoor boots. Callie gave King a peck on the cheek and scuttled away, and Noah watched her go.

“Noah?”

Noah’s blue eyes jerked back to King’s face. “King?”

“You ready to get to painting, man?”

“Yes. I have my own workspace, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re lucky.”

“Want to see?”

“I do. Show me.”

They walked in to the massive open space area, and King was relieved when every single staff member nodded at Noah and greeted him by name. Noah didn’t really respond – he had reverted to his old habit of clenching his hands over and over and avoiding eye contact – and King felt worry move in his chest. He hadn’t seen Noah this unnerved in a while, and he hoped that the younger man would be OK.

Noah led him over to the far corner, next to a massive arched window. King watched as Noah took off his backpack and set it on a stool.

“My workspace.” Noah sounded proud and goddamn, he
should
be. Just by standing there, he’d blown most every expectation that every health care professional had ever laid down on him. Sarah and her mother Annie had worked their asses off for
years
to help Noah be more flexible with changes in routine, and now the result was standing in front of King.

Noah was in a brand new place, surrounded by brand new people – and Sarah was nowhere in sight. Noah had insisted on doing this himself and although his twin sister had tied herself up in knots about it, she’d agreed in the end. This whole thing was, after all, about Noah’s increasing independence, and he had to start sometime.

King thought about what Annie had said this morning, when King had picked Noah up at his house. Noah had been packing his backpack with his beloved baseball cards, Sudoku puzzles, pencils and juicebox, and Annie had stood there wringing her hands.

She had turned to King. “It’s like the first day of school.”

He’d grinned a bit. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“No, really. Noah’s never gone to regular school and back when my husband was around and we had money, we had home help and care and babysitters. Then Sarah took over, as you know, and it’s been Sarah here with him ever since. We had Helen for two days a week, and now we have Garrett who comes every day. But Noah leaving the house, going to a place and staying there for the whole day? That’s never happened, King. Not until today.”

He’d paused. “That’s true, huh?”

Annie had brushed away the tears in her eyes. “First day of school at the age of twenty-five, I swear. I’m scared to death for him.”

“Hey, now,” King had said gently. “He’s going to love it, Annie, and it’ll be good for all of you. You'll be nervous and worried until he comes home this afternoon, then you’ll see how great it all was.”

“Yeah.” She had smiled at him, and a rare flash of beauty had moved over that tired, strained face. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Now, King looked around at the other artists already at work. “So. You want to get started, man?”

“Yes.”

“Did you bring your music?”

“Yes.” Noah unzipped his backpack and produced a cheap CD Walkman. It was battered and beaten up but Noah handled it like it was the most beautiful thing on the planet. King watched as he loaded up a disc, put on the headphones, and turned to stare at the blank canvas.

And just like that, Noah was gone in to his head, in to his own little world. King smiled as Noah grabbed a paintbrush and dabbled it in a bit of water, dipped it in bright yellow paint. He blinked at the white landscape stretched out in front of him, and King would have paid a boatload of money to know what Noah was seeing on it.

He backed up quietly, wondering if Noah would freak out at him leaving. But Noah gave him a quick glance, a small wave, then turned his attention back to the easel. As King watched, Noah made a decisive brush stroke, then another; that was when King relaxed completely.

“Matt?”

He spun at that soft voice, and almost sighed at the sight of Naomi standing there. She was in a dress and high heeled knee-high boots today, and his eyes roamed over her body hungrily.
God
, what she’d be like to get his hands on – all soft curves and silky smoothness, he imagined. It would be a miracle and a gift to touch her, just once.

“Morning, Naomi. How you doing today?”

She was staring at him with a very serious expression on her face. “I’m fine. Can we talk privately for one minute?”

If they were going to be private, then
talking
wasn’t what he wanted to do with her, but he nodded and followed her in to her office. She shut the door behind him, then sat at her desk. That serious look hadn’t gone anywhere and now he began to get a bit worried.

“The organization received a huge anonymous transfer in to its bank account this morning,” she said, getting straight to the point. “One million dollars.”

“Wow.” King’s face was carefully arranged in a politely puzzled expression. “That’s amazing.”

“It is. I also can’t accept it.”

He paused. “Why not?”

“Because it’s way too much.”

“Well.” King grinned at her. “I’m sure that the anonymous donor can afford it – otherwise they’d never have sent it, huh?”

“I’m sure that the anonymous donor meant well, but it’s just… it’s so much money. Aren’t they worried about how it will be spent?”

He shrugged. “I suspect the donor did some research in to you and the program, and is fully confident that the money will be put to good use, and that you can be trusted to oversee its spending.”

“How can the donor be so sure?”

He smiled at her now and her stomach fell smack on to the floor. The crinkles around his eyes were simply the damn sexiest things she’d ever seen, and she idly wondered how old the man was. If she had to guess, she’d put him at about thirty-four, three years older than her. He was sheer strength and power and confidence, and she just
knew
he’d be a master in the bedroom: controlled and wild at the same time.

“Because the donor thinks the world of you… or so I would imagine.”

That stopped her. She caught her breath at the look on his face.

“You – the donor does?”

“Yes. I’m quite sure the donor does.”

“The donor barely knows me,” she said quietly.

“He knows enough.”

She bit her lip, thinking about the depth and breadth of her secrets. The alcoholic drinking, and all the dark and horrible places it had taken her over the years. “He doesn’t know anything really important.”

“He’d
like
to, though.”

“He – he would?”

“Yes.”

“What – how – what does that mean?”

“Well.” King leaned forward a bit. “Maybe – just maybe – the donor would like to take you for dinner tonight, and find out some important things.”

Holy fuck
. Naomi went from cautious flirtation to panic mode in the wink of an eye. She had to shut this down, and now. She stood up, putting even more space between them.

“Maybe he would. Unfortunately, since the donation was anonymous, I have no way of finding out who he might be, so going for dinner is out of the question. Assuming it even
is
a ‘he’ – it could well be a ‘she’, you know.”

King blinked at her lightning-quick change in mood. “Uh, well. That’s true.”

“Yes, it is. And anyway, mixing business and pleasure is always a mistake, in my experience, and it’s an even
bigger
mistake when this amount of money is involved." Her whole body was cold with anger and fear. "For example, if the donor gave the organization that much money only because he – or she – expected something from me in return, that would be quite unethical. A real conflict of interest.”

King froze.

“It could
almost
be seen as pre-payment for services expected to be rendered.” The temperature in the room was sub-zero now. “Don’t you think?”

Jesus Christ… is she actually accusing me of giving her the money so that I can get the leverage to fuck her?

He stood up now too. “I am absolutely certain that the donor had no such thing in mind when he – or she – authorized the transfer. I’m sure all he – or she – was thinking about was the good of the organization.”

“Yes. I’m sure too.”

They stared at each other; King furious, Naomi possibly a smidge more so.

“OK, then.” He shook his head, wondering just how the hell he’d gotten her so wrong. Normally, he read people way the fuck better than this; it
was
his job, after all. “I’ve got to get going.”

Naomi watched him walk towards the door and every cell in her body was screaming at her to stop him. What the hell was
wrong
with her, implying that he’d handed over that much money to get her to spread her legs? She knew it wasn’t true.

She flashed back to a conversation that she and Mirrie had had many times over the months of her recovery, namely, the tendency for alcoholics to go on the offensive when they feel emotionally vulnerable or exposed. Matt Kingston had a way of making her feel off-balance and unsteady – around him, she felt almost nothing
but
totally vulnerable and completely exposed.

God, Naomi. Don’t dump your shit on him… he’s done nothing to deserve it.

“Matt?”

He paused, his hand on the door handle, his broad back to her.

“Matt, can you please look at me?”

He turned his massive upper body slightly, but still didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry. That was – that was unforgivable.”

King turned to face her now, his arms crossed loosely.

“I – I don’t know why I said that to you.” She felt tears prickle her eyes. “It was cruel and it was total bullshit.”

He saw her eyes brighten and his anger relaxed. “It’s OK.”

“It’s
not
OK.” Her voice was thick. “It’s most
definitely
not OK. It was uncalled for and bitchy and so, so awful.”

“Hey, don’t cry.” He crossed the office again. He didn’t touch her, but he stood close enough to inhale her perfume. She smelled of something fresh and green; something pure and bright. “All’s forgiven.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just – you really shocked me, and I’m not good when I’m taken by surprise like that.”

He dropped the game and pretense completely. “I shocked you when I sent you the money, or when I asked you to dinner?”

“Both.” The tears were spilling down her cheeks now. “I wasn’t expecting either, and I don’t always know how to handle these kinds of things. I get defensive in all the wrong ways.”

Gently, he reached out to wipe the tears with his thumb. Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined and he tried to stay focused on the conversation. Not so easy when he was getting tempting glimpses of her breasts as he stared down at her from his towering height.

“Hey,
I’m
sorry to throw you so badly,” he said. “I honestly didn’t expect anything from you in return, I swear. The money isn't some sleazy form of sexual blackmail, alright? The money is for Callie and Noah and all the others. The invitation to dinner is for me to enjoy your company.”

She averted her eyes, her skin tingling and hot under his surprisingly gentle touch. “I appreciate it, but I can’t accept.”