“Of course! How could I not? I’m not worrying about sleep. I’ve got people plying me with food everywhere I turn.” A half-hearted smile tugged at Becky’s mouth. “Your mom is insisting on taking care of me and buying everything a baby could possibly need, all from the comfort of a living room that’s bigger than my trailer. At least”—her gaze dropped away from Charlotte’s—“I think it’s my trailer.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” Charlotte asked, the tentative tone of Becky’s voice gelling the problem in her mind. “That you won’t have a place to live with Richard gone?”
“A place to live. A way to take care of myself, of her.”
The sound of someone moving down the hall near the kitchen had Charlotte grasping Becky’s hand and pulling her into a side room. She closed the door quietly before turning to take her hands again. “I don’t know anything about the legalities of your father’s property, though Wes can probably help us there. But let me make this a hundred percent, absolutely clear: You don’t ever—ever—have to worry about a place to live again.”
“Why?”
Her heart broke at Becky’s uncertainty. For years Charlotte had dealt with her own private heartache, but she’d never had to worry about being worthy enough to love. Becky’s parents had taught her nothing could make her worthy. “Because I’m going to make sure of it, Becky. Because all that stuff my mom is buying is for you to use no matter what, but we would really love for you to use it here, with us. And not just because both our lives could be in danger.” Pulling Becky close, she stood on tiptoe to rest their foreheads together. “You didn’t think I was going to shuttle you off, did you?”
Becky shrugged. “My own father did.”
Forget breaking—her heart shattered in that moment. But there was no denying the truth. “He did. But I won’t.” She nudged Becky’s chin up until their gazes met. “I’m not him, and neither is my family. Which you are a part of now. You might not understand what that means yet, but you’ll learn. You don’t have to earn a place here, and you don’t have to worry about being thrown out if you do anything wrong. You’re home, okay?”
“Even if I decide not to keep her?”
“Even then,” Charlotte choked out, her emotion running over.
The tension in Becky’s shoulders slowly softened. “I’m not sure I believe that.”
Charlotte shook her gently. “That’s understandable, but it doesn’t change the facts. You’re our family now. I’ll keep reminding you, no matter how long it takes.”
“Charlotte!”
Her mother’s voice broke the moment. “I think we’re being paged.”
Becky gave a watery giggle as she followed Charlotte back out into the hallway.
“Charlotte!” Her mother rounded the corner. “Oh, there you are. The team has informed me you have a visitor.”
Oh. “Who?”
“No idea.”
Well, they’d find out together, she guessed. She followed her mom down the hall, Becky bringing up the rear. In the open foyer at the base of the stairs, a semicircle of people stood at the front door—two broad backs and a narrow female one blocking Charlotte’s view of their guests. She managed a peek past Elliot’s shoulder as she moved into the room, and saw—
“Abby!”
“Charlotte.”
Pushing her way through the small crowd, she flung herself into her friend’s open arms, surprised at the sudden press of tears behind her eyelids. She might not have seen Abby again, might not have seen her family again. Because of a greedy man who’d wanted to sell his grandchild.
Damn Richard to hell and back.
She eased away, watching as Abby’s concerned gaze took in the people around them. A smirk tugged at Charlotte’s lips. Normally it was Abby who was surrounded by men who looked ready to tear someone’s head off for coming too close. So this is how she feels.
“Let me introduce you to my own personal team of bodyguards,” she teased, the smirk becoming a full-fledged smile, her first since the accident. “This is Saint and Elliot and their team lead, Dain, from JCL Security.” Where was King? “Everyone, meet my friend, Abigail Roslyn.”
The daughter of a former prominent businessman turned politician, Abby had grown up in the same social tier as Charlotte and King, though she was a few years younger. Her father had been killed after trying to murder Abby and her lover, Levi. No other word really fit the man currently standing protectively behind her friend. He was over six feet, broad and muscular, with a menacing presence and a stare that could be stone-cold. Boyfriend just didn’t do him justice.
Of course his stare was amused right now as he glanced over the team watching him, each set of eyes narrowed suspiciously. Charlotte didn’t blame them. The glint of humor in his gaze merely turned his serial killer look into an amused serial killer look.
Charlotte tucked a laugh down deep. “I’m sure you all know Levi Agozi as well, head of Hacr Technologies.”
Her words seemed to break through the appraisal the team was stuck in. Handshakes made the rounds, and it was only as the crowd moved toward the sitting room that she noticed King behind Levi. He’d obviously opened the door to the couple, Levi’s bulk keeping him out of her sight during the introductions. Probably a good thing. She’d only seen him once, minutes after her return from the hospital, but now that she’d caught sight of him again, his presence dominated the room even more than Levi’s did—the shock of seeing him, this man that she’d longed for, for ten years, hit her just as hard now as it had the first time. And when his eyes met hers?
The moment was electric. Her step hitched; her mouth opened to say something…
King dropped his gaze to the floor and moved toward the hall. Away from her.
Okay then.
Trying to ignore the tinge of hurt she had no right to feel, she turned to follow the crowd into the sitting room. Took a few steps. Stumbled to a halt. She and King had a past—they couldn’t deny it, couldn’t change it—but they could change this strange whatever this was that hit whenever she saw him. She just had to get used to him again, right? As a friend.
He was protecting Becky. What if Charlotte hesitated at a crucial time because she was unsure of King? Better to deal with it now than let it cause problems later.
Just a few words. Just speak to him, Charlotte. How bad can it be?
She squared her shoulders, winced when pain shot through her collarbone, then made herself turn back toward the foyer.
Which was empty. So was the hallway she and Becky had entered by. Crossing the room, she caught a quick glimpse of King, body tight, expression closed, facing her way. Her father stood before him.
Dad was speaking too low for her to hear, but she didn’t need the words to know he was angry—his posture shouted that fact quite clearly.
Before she could move down the hall to come between the two men, King met her gaze over her father’s shoulder. The faintest shake of his head had her hesitating.
“—told you to never be in the same room with her, didn’t I?”
Shock jolted through her. She saw more than heard King’s low response, his eyes still locked with hers. “Yes, sir.”
“Then what the hell were—”
She didn’t hear the rest; she didn’t have to. She understood enough. Her father had warned King to stay away from her. He’d hamstrung Dain’s team because he couldn’t get over what had happened to her after King left.
Not that there was any getting over it. But that didn’t mean King deserved the blame. He didn’t even know it had occurred, would probably never forgive her for keeping it from him if he did.
No one should shoulder the blame—it had simply…happened. No anticipating it. No stopping it. Only living through it as best she could.
At least that’s what she told herself. On the good days she even believed it. On the bad days? Well, she placed blame, but not on King.
She blamed herself.
As if walking through knee-high mud
, she forced one foot forward, then another. Ignored the way King’s eyes narrowed, the warning there to stop, turn away, not interfere. This was her family, her past, her guilt, not his. The pain she and her family felt was theirs alone, and she couldn’t allow it to put their lives at risk.
“Dad.”
Harsh words broke off abruptly. Her father spun on his heel. “Charlotte, you should be with Abby.”
“Maybe I should,” she acknowledged, “but I’m not. What is going on?”
He had the grace to look embarrassed even as King stared her down stonily, refusing to reveal the smallest hint of emotion. “I needed to speak with Moncrief—”
“You needed to remind him to stay out of my sight.”
Faint color darkened his cheeks. “Charlotte—”
“No.” She forced herself to look at King. “You are here to protect us.” She turned back to her dad. “And nothing we do will interfere with that. Nothing. Becky’s safety is the only thing that matters right now. King needs to be free to do his job, and we are going to support him and his team completely.”
“Charlotte, you can’t—” The faint sheen of moisture in her father’s eyes ripped at her heart. “After everything…we can’t just allow this man back into our home, into our lives.”
“Completely, Dad.” Her own eyes tingled with the need to cry, but she fought it back, fought back the memories biting at the edges of her mind. “What happened, happened. It’s in the past. King and I aren’t the people we were back then.” She could never go back to being that young, naive girl, even if she’d wanted to. “Let him do his job.”
She turned back to the foyer, hurrying away before the tears she’d barely held back leaked out.
Chapter Eleven
“Charlotte has some interesting friends,” Dain observed as he entered our dining-room “office.”
“You mean Mr. Menace?” Saint asked, bringing up the rear. Elliot was escorting Charlotte and Becky upstairs to do whatever it is they were doing before dinner.
“I’ve seen Levi Agozi in the news,” King said, “but he never came across quite that…”
“Lethal?” Dain rubbed his chin. “He’s the head of the largest tech firm in the US, with multiple top-secret government contracts. They would have run their clearances, but”—he frowned—“he makes me uneasy.”
Anyone with eyes that coldly laser-focused would make people uneasy. For a member of their team, trained to recognize danger at a glance, Agozi was a flashing neon sign to watch their back.
“Want us to do some digging?” King asked. How Agozi, lethal or not, could tie in with their current situation, he didn’t know, but they couldn’t ignore any possibility.
Dain eyed him, and King fought the urge to squirm, though he wasn’t certain why. Finally his fearless leader spoke. “Interesting conversation you had in the hallway earlier.”
Well fuck. He clamped down harder on the itch running up his spine. Never let ’em see you sweat. “Didn’t know you heard that.”
“I hear everything.” Dain’s cocky grin lightened the intensity of his warrior facade. “I think we need to keep that particular ball moving in the right direction.”
“What direction? What ball?” Saint’s confusion was plain.
“The direction of an unfettered investigation,” Dain said. “Why don’t you head upstairs, King. Relieve Elliot. We’ll need her hacking skills if we want to get any information on the Agozis. She can work on some deep background while you question Becky and Charlotte about those employees we flagged.”
The sinking feeling in King’s stomach was his career going down in flames, wasn’t it? Ben might acquiesce to his daughter’s demands in public, but that wouldn’t keep him from blackballing King in private. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“You are acting second in command of our team,” Dain pointed out. “And the only way to get our clients used to your presence is—”
“To rub it in their faces?”
“I was going to say constant exposure, but whatever.” Dain jerked his chin toward the files on the table. “Head out.”
“Good luck,” Saint called as King made his way toward the door.
He shot his friend a wry glance. “You know Ben might shoot out my kneecaps, right?”
“Nah.” Saint’s white teeth gleamed against his dark olive skin. “He’ll aim for your junk if it comes to that.”
Comforting thought.
Elliot didn’t blink when King knocked on the door of the guest suite. She never did. Ready for anything and everything, that was Elliot. And tough enough to handle either one. He dropped his voice so as not to release the female ire he knew would arise if Elliot’s charges heard what he needed. “Dain wants some background on our recent guest.”
Elliot nodded. “I figured.” She moved into the hallway, allowing him inside. “Back soon.”
Becky and Kim sat on the far couch, facing him. The girl eyed him a bit warily still, not that he blamed her. She’d been through hell; she had every right not to trust men. Kim’s gaze was dark for a different reason—she trusted men, just not him.
At their expressions, Charlotte glanced over her shoulder toward him. Shock flared in her eyes, the same jolt that hit him every time he saw her. Gray eyes darkened to midnight before she turned to face forward in her chair.
He told himself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t feel anything at her rejection. Yeah, right. He could pretend he didn’t feel the punch to his gut, but that didn’t negate its existence.
Rounding Charlotte’s chair, he firmed his voice. “I have some questions if this is a good time, ladies.”
Charlotte watched him settle into the seat beside her, expression unreadable. “Questions?”
He met her gaze head-on. “Yes.”
“I don’t think—”
Charlotte held up her hand, forestalling her mother’s objection. “Whatever your team needs for this case, we’ll do,” she said evenly.
The years had wrought so many changes in her, not just physically, but in maturity, composure, and a steel spine that refused to back down from this case despite fear and injury. He couldn’t help but admire those changes.
Hell, it wasn’t mere admiration. It was want.
He couldn’t afford to let that want free.
Stuffing that knowledge back behind the cool facade that had kept him safe for a decade, he said to the room in general, “You know we’ve been looking into contacts for both of you, searching for a link Richard could have used to connect with whoever is a threat to you, Becky.”
“Because you don’t think he could set this up on his own,” Charlotte said, a statement rather than a question. That didn’t cover the hurt lurking beneath the words, the knowledge that the someone they were looking for could be close to her or Becky or both.
“Right.” He met Charlotte’s steady stare. “We’ve eliminated most everyone on Becky’s end, and Saint has moved on to Richard’s phone records. But we both know a steady supply is the most important principle for a business, legal or illegal.”
“A steady supply of babies,” Kim said, her voice strangled.
King gave her a sympathetic smile.
“You think someone at CF is selling babies,” Charlotte said.
“Yes.” Stark. Bald, maybe too bald. But sugarcoating the truth wasn’t going to help any of them. “There are dozens of people connected with CF, even peripherally, and all of them have to be looked at, but we have to start somewhere. The top is usually best.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “My team has been in place for years—”
“And things change over time,” he pointed out. “We’re not saying any of them have done this, but we aren’t going to dismiss a single person without a thorough look.” He shifted back into his seat and opened the file at the top of the stack he’d brought. “Tell me about Dr. Susan Keller.”
Becky whimpered. Charlotte’s mother scooted closer to take her hand while glaring at him.<
br />
“Remember what I said, Becky.” He attempted a soothing tone, all the while knowing soothing didn’t really go with interrogation. “We have to ask the questions. It doesn’t mean anyone we ask about is actually involved.”
After a moment Becky reluctantly nodded. “Dr. Keller has always been good to me.”
“So you’ve never felt any hesitation around her, any concern?” The girl might not know anything concrete, but instincts sometimes surprised him. Humans were genetically engineered to sense danger.
“No.” King was pleased to see her hesitate, look thoughtful, as if considering her automatic response. Then, “No, I’ve never been afraid of Dr. Keller. She’s always been kind, concerned about keeping me and the baby healthy, not just the baby.”
“Any unnecessarily obtrusive questions, maybe hinting about changing your adoption or offering money?”
She rubbed a hand over the swell of her stomach, and his heart ached to see her fingers trembling. “No. I’ve met with her nearly every time I’m at Creating Families, and she has never done anything but help me.”
The simple words had him nodding. “That’s helpful to know.” Charlotte’s turn. “Were there any red flags in Keller’s background check or past performance?”
Charlotte straightened her spine as if going into battle. “Susan? Of course not.”
He resisted the urge to rub at the ache in his forehead. “Charlotte, loyalty is admirable, but it isn’t always earned. Everyone has secrets. If those secrets have nothing to do with selling babies, then questioning won’t harm the woman.”
“Susan was one of the first people the board hired when CF was formed. We wanted not only a consummate professional, but someone compassionate, with excellent medical knowledge. She was a perfect fit from the get-go. And I haven’t questioned that decision once in the years since.”
Exactly what Wes had said. Still… He flipped a few pages through the notes they’d gathered. “Were you aware Keller recently separated from her husband?”
Charlotte nodded. “We’re a close-knit office. She told me the day after it happened.”
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