The sudden tightness in his pants assured him of that. He shifted in his seat.
Saint rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “I guess the real question is, is this just residual shit or something new?”
Something new? They’d barely been involved in this case a week. Residual was the only logical choice. Wasn’t it?
Shit.
Saint was nodding as if he’d come to the same realization. I hope to hell not.
“Look”—Saint leaned closer, keeping his voice low—“I get what Dain is trying to do, putting you with Charlotte. Relieve the tension and, when we most need her trust, it’ll be right there waiting. But I’m telling you, this thing isn’t easing; it’s getting stronger. Her father is no idiot. Don’t give him a reason to have your ass canned.”
“I couldn’t give a fuck what Ben thinks.” No one but King needed to know that was a lie, but he worked hard to push it aside. The man had turned his back on King. If he let that affect him, he’d have to let himself care about all the other people who’d cut him off when he walked away from his parents. It didn’t matter that he’d been closer to Ben’s family than most. “But I won’t let you all down.”
King got it too—Dain had been pairing him with Charlotte more than strictly necessary. And King hadn’t protested because…of course he hadn’t. He’d wanted to be near Charlotte, whether he’d realized it consciously or not.
He rubbed a hand down his face, wishing he could wipe away the last few minutes of conversation—and its revelations—as easily. But Charlotte wasn’t going away.
As she proved when she came back through the door, a handful of pamphlets clutched in her grip. “Found it.”
He leaned back in his chair with a silent sigh of relief. Saint looked amused.
“The Fulton County group is run by a nurse in their maternity ward.” Charlotte opened one of the pamphlets. “Jessica Arnold.”
Saint typed the name into his phone. “Have you ever met her?”
“Not that I remember. I’ve spoken to various hospital officials and staff all over the greater Atlanta area, held meetings with them since Creating Families was formed. But I don’t remember this particular nurse. Usually Vicky would be our point person to get information to the various contacts, services, and support groups we connect with.”
Her last few words faded out as Charlotte realized what she’d said. “Not that I think Vicky has any connection to—”
“Oh, Vicky has connections to everyone!” The perky assistant breezed through the closed door without knocking, obviously catching the last part of Charlotte’s statement. “Anyone in particular I need to connect with?”
Charlotte’s mouth opened, but no words came out. King stepped into the breach.
“Just some things we’re working on for Charlotte’s security,” he said smoothly, smiling at the dark-haired woman. A faint blush colored her cheeks. “We’ll have some questions for you in a bit, I promise.”
Vicky stammered a, “S-sure,” before turning to Charlotte. Excitement lit her hazel eyes. “And speaking of security, I know we’ve canceled your attendance at the Magnolia Ball this weekend, but…”
The Magnolia Ball was the charity event of the year in Atlanta, attended by everyone who was anyone. Far too big an event for them to cover safely. Dread sparked in King’s gut.
“But what?” Charlotte asked. “Stop keeping me in suspense and spill it.”
“But…” Vicky bounced up on her toes. “I just received a call from this year’s committee chair. It seems they’ve had a specific request for your presence to receive a hundred-thousand-dollar donation.”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “From whom?”
Vicky shrugged as if the whom didn’t matter. “Someone who wishes to remain anonymous. Isn’t it awesome? Surely with a contribution that huge, we can arrange for you to attend?” Her hopeful gaze flicked from Charlotte to King to Saint and back again.
“Charlotte,” King warned.
Her raised hand stopped his words, then dropped to the desk to tap out a rhythm. “Do you know how many women and families we can help with that money, King?”
He stared at her hard, trying to convey the risk, the certainty that this was no coincidence. Someone was laying a trap, whether she wanted to believe it or not.
“How do you know the donation will actually materialize?” Saint asked, adding his own caution to King’s look.
“We don’t,” Charlotte said. “But if there’s any possibility…”
King could already tell they were fighting a losing battle. Charlotte would do anything for Creating Families, even if it meant putting herself in danger.
He glanced at Vicky. The woman leaned against the desk, happily going over details of the event with Charlotte. He caught Charlotte’s gaze and gestured to the hall, then pulled Saint out with him. Once there, he lowered his voice. “Can we get the name of our mystery nurse to the team?”
Saint wiggled his phone in the air. “Already done. Dain’s got Elliot on it.”
“Text him about this event as well. We’ll need his authority to nix it.”
Saint snickered. “I’ll tell him, but I don’t think nixing it is going to be as easy as you think it is.”
“This is a trap and we both know it. Charlotte can send someone else.”
“An obvious trap,” Saint agreed. “We need to figure out who’s planning it. But we have to consider something else, King.”
“What’s that?”
“This may be the fastest, surest way to find our go-between. Someone is contacting these families and offering the arrangement, and that’s who we have to find. They’ll be at that ball, no doubt about it.”
“We are not using Charlotte as bait!”
Saint’s shrug didn’t reassure him. “Keep fooling yourself, buddy. That choice is up to her, and we both know what it’s going to be. I’d start checking into a tux rental if I were you.”
“Me?”
“You.” Saint’s dark eyes practically twinkled. “What you wanna bet you get assigned as Ms. Alexander’s escort?”
King didn’t have to think about it; he already knew. King had connections to nearly everyone who would be at that party, and Dain wasn’t about to show any mercy in exploiting that.
King was screwed, and not in a good way.
Chapter Seventeen
Saint left to retrieve the car for them. King nudged Charlotte toward the door, breaking off from Vicky’s excited rambling about the Magnolia Ball. They’d done all they could here at Creating Families; now it was time to rejoin his team and figure out all the loose ends they’d discovered.
As they stood on the steps outside the door, waiting for Saint, King noticed Charlotte’s fingers, now rubbing at her forehead, were shaking. His first instinct was to take those fingers in his and steady her, share his strength. And then, just like he had dozens of times since this had all started, he remembered she wasn’t his to comfort, not anymore.
And not for the first time, denial crowded his throat, threatening to burst forth.
“I guess the real question is, is this just residual shit or something new?”
Fucking Saint, bringing up what needed to stay buried.
Charlotte angled herself toward him. “You don’t happen to have any Tylenol, do you?”
He eyed her purse. “None in there?” he asked, not unkindly, but the bag looked like it could be hiding the kitchen sink without a strain.
A tired smirk curved one side of her mouth. “Probably the only thing I don’t have in there.” A wave of pain passed over her face, and she swayed.
He was holding her upright the next second.
“Here.” His hands looked big surrounding her white face, his fingers slowly massaging across her brow, tucking into her hair to knead her scalp. It had been ten years, but it took his breath away, how familiar she still felt. How much the yearning to make her feel better rose in his chest. He didn’t think that would ever go away. After being so
close to someone, melding your life with theirs, it became part of your DNA, a need his body and heart knew even when his mind tried to forget.
Charlotte’s sigh of relief made his chest swell, and he knew right then—he was in far deeper than he’d realized, even after that kiss yesterday. The quicksand was rising fast, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted a handhold.
“You two gonna get in or what?” Saint called from the car. Charlotte jerked away, her gaze darting anywhere but to him.
King glared at his teammate. Saint gave him an innocent smile.
Asshole.
The trip back was interrupted only by Charlotte’s questions about Violet and this nurse, Jessica, and the ball. None of which he or Saint could answer. He could sense her rising frustration, could certainly sympathize—waiting was the hardest part of any op. But the team had to come together to hash out ideas, and only when they’d determined their best possible options would they present them to Charlotte, Ben, and Kim.
Speaking of Kim… They’d pulled up to the stairs leading to the front of the mansion when Charlotte’s mother appeared at the door, arms crossed over her chest, that stern mom face he remembered from his teenage years staring down at them. Charlotte cursed under her breath, words King repeated in the privacy of his mind. He’d hoped to get out of discussing what had happened between him and Charlotte last night, but if he had to bet, he’d say Kim wanted her say before another minute passed.
He wasn’t wrong.
She led them both toward the empty library off the main foyer. Saint threw him a sympathetic glance as Kim closed the doors behind them. She paused for a moment with her hands on the doorknobs, then turned to face them, eyes narrowed on him. King fell automatically into parade rest, hands locked at the small of his back.
“Tell me that nothing is going on between the two of you.”
The words were an arrow shooting straight through his heart, but he didn’t dare show a reaction. He was only now beginning to understand what was stirring in his chest when it came to Charlotte. Baring his soul to this woman who had meant so much to him during his adolescence and growing into adulthood, a woman who now seemed to hate him, was impossible. He’d fought futility with his own family until it had finally ripped them apart—he didn’t owe Kim and Ben, or even Charlotte, that fight.
Why bother? Charlotte wouldn’t choose him anyway. Her body might be susceptible to him, but not her heart, not under normal circumstances. Their history had taught him that.
From the corner of his eye he caught Charlotte starting to speak, pausing. Searching for a diplomatic way to assure her mother she wasn’t foolish? Her mother might not agree, but she would accept the answer.
“Mom…” She didn’t move closer, didn’t glance his way. “I don’t know what’s going on. Nothing. Something. There’s too much else—”
Kim had tensed with the first word. “No, there isn’t.”
King had no more than a moment to cover his surprise before Kim squared off with him. “We might need your help right now, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to open our arms and welcome you right back into this family.”
As if Charlotte’s emotions were his to control. Or maybe she really did think he was working some kind of voodoo on her daughter—he comes back, and all of a sudden they’re kissing. On the one hand, he could see her point, but on the other…
For fuck’s sake, she’d known him better than his own family once upon a time.
“Why do you hate me so much, you and Ben both?” he asked. “I understand you love Charlotte, and I guess I can understand the lack of warmth for a guy who chose to walk away from the life you wanted for her. But we used to be family. It’s been ten years. This”—he waved a hand between them—“this is overkill. Why?”
A choked-off sound came from Charlotte’s direction—a denial.
Kim didn’t even blink. Venom filled her voice. “You have no idea the devastation you left in your wake.”
“Mom!”
“Obviously not,” King agreed, ignoring Charlotte’s protest. He was turning Kim’s words over in his mind, and fear begin a slow creep up his spine.
This wasn’t about him leaving. It couldn’t be. So what had happened afterward?
He didn’t want to hear the words from anyone but Charlotte. A glance told him alarm had widened her eyes, tightened her hands into fists. “Charlotte?”
Kim choked on an angry laugh. “Do you know she still has the land her father gave her for your engagement? The land you planned to build a life on? She can’t let it go. She can’t let anything g—”
“Mom.” A flash of desperation.
“No, Charlotte! We almost lost you, for God’s sake. You can’t—”
“That’s enough!”
Charlotte’s pain echoed clearly in her shout, but even that couldn’t distract him from her mother’s words. He tried again. “Charlotte?”
The land didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything. It had been a gift from Ben to his daughter, not to his son-in-law to be. It belonged to Charlotte, and he’d had no expectations over what she would choose to do with it. They hadn’t gotten beyond a few vague ideas for a house there anyway. That decision was up to her; it didn’t mean she couldn’t let go of King.
But… “We almost lost you…” What the hell?
His heartbeat throbbed in his throat, choking off his air. “Charlotte, what is she talking about?” Had the woman he’d loved, probably still loved if he was being completely honest with himself, tried to kill herself after he left?
No, surely not. She’d been young, their breakup had been devastating to them both, but she wouldn’t have done that.
Would she?
Kim seemed beyond stopping. Some part of him, the objective part that hovered overhead, watching the conversation dispassionately, understood the fear that whatever was happening between him and Charlotte could impact her daughter, her family. The other part of him…
Well, it was still panicking over something he didn’t know yet.
“Tell him, Charlotte. Tell him what he cost you.”
What he…?
“Stop this, Mom.” His own panic was reflected in Charlotte’s gaze, but he didn’t understand why. “Just stop.”
“He—”
“Stop!” A single tear drifted down her cheek, ripping at his chest, pushing him to go to her, to make this all go away by surrounding her in his arms. “That wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine.”
“It was certainly not yours,” Kim insisted. “No one can blame you for—”
Charlotte’s hand came up, the sob that escaped stopping Kim’s words as if they’d hit a wall and not her daughter’s will. “Stop, Mom. Please. Just stop.”
Kim covered her mouth. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Charlotte.”
“No.” She dropped her hand, but the crying didn’t stop. King found himself moving forward, needing to touch her so bad he shook. Needing to make her pain go away even if he had no clue what had caused it.
Did I almost lose her permanently? Did she almost die?
He couldn’t fathom even the possibility, but what else could this be about?
Charlotte squared her shoulders, and he froze in place. Something tough, impenetrable, settled over her. “Nothing that happened after King and I separated was his fault. Period.” Her voice broke on the word, pushing doubt into his mind. “I don’t want to hear another word about it, or about what King and I choose to do now. It’s between the two of us, not us and you or Dad.” She cleared the strain from her throat. “Now, I need to check in with Becky, and then we have some things to discuss with the team. Right, King?” Her gaze glanced off him, not truly connecting before darting away once more.
He couldn’t stop himself from giving her what she so obviously needed. “Right.”
She nodded. “Right.” Moving toward the door, she threw over her shoulder, “Mom, let Dad know, please?” And then she was gone, leaving him to face the aftermath alone.
Kim met his gaze. Something lost and broken stared at him through her eyes. He didn’t know what it was, couldn’t fix it, but…
“Kim…”
She brought her hands up to cover her face, fingers rubbing over her brow as if pain had settled there.
He tried again. “Kim, you’re right. I don’t know what’s going on here.” Not that he wouldn’t try to find out—he needed to know what this was, the unknown that had ripped his heart apart mere minutes ago. “But for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know my decision hurt Charlotte, but…”
“It’s not worth much.” Kim dropped her hands. Shook her head. A heavy sigh left her. “That was…uncharitable of me.” Cleared her throat. “I apologize. I should never have spoken of—”
“Of what?” Fear rose once more. “Kim, I can’t fix what I don’t know about.”
Her smile was sad. “There’s no fixing this.” Her gaze met his once more, unflinching. “And maybe that’s why we can’t forgive you. You weren’t here when she needed you, King. You weren’t here, and that, more than anything else that went before it, is inexcusable.”
She turned and walked out, leaving him alone in a room echoing with the pain of the past.
Chapter Eighteen
King’s lungs hurt by the time he made it back into the office. The rest of his team waited, each of them giving him knowing looks, but only Dain spoke.
“Anything I need to know about?”
He rubbed at the ache in his chest as he shook his head. “No,” he croaked, then winced. “No,” he said again, steadier this time. Whatever was going on with Charlotte—or whatever had gone on with her ten years ago—he couldn’t change it now. Work waited. Keeping her safe. The reason he was here in the first place. “Saint brought you up to speed?”
Dain nodded. “We’ll go over plans later, but for now, you got a call from your contact in the FBI. Figured we could all use that intel before Elliot assembles the family and Becky for a meetup.”
Deny Me (Southern Nights Enigma Book 4) Page 11