Smuggled Trust
A Smuggled Wild Series Standalone
Belle Knight
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Belle Knight
Cover Art by Belle Knight
All rights reserved. For information please email [email protected]
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Bonus Scene
The Smuggled Wild series
Chapter 1
Laura stared at the class of ten-year-olds who were all trying NOT to stare back at her. Their faced shined with expectation and held a special sort of tension that only the last few minutes of the day could create.
The clock on the wall had been covered in paper decorations for the last week of school, but somehow, they could still sense exactly two minutes before it was time for the bell to ring—that quiet reach for papers, the sideways shuffle to backpacks, the silent exchange of looks from across the room.
Is it time? Did she forget it’s almost time? Will she ever let us out? Are we doomed to stay in school for the rest of our lives?
Laura bit back a grin. Ten year olds were hilarious and fun. In spite of the excitement over their ham radio project that day, they were eager for the day to be over.
“Pack it up!” Laura said.
“Thank you, Ms. Mannings!” Several of the students replied as the room exploded into a frenzy of noise and activity. Shuffling shoes, eager voices, the scramble to push the math tiles into the bins, pick up trash, push in chairs.
At the start of each year, when she introduced herself to the anxious new class, at least one brave soul would always ask about the “Ms” part of her name. It was the 21st century, but somehow the kids still got it in their heads that a woman should either be a Miss or a Mrs—and she was neither.
She had been married for a few years in her mid-twenties. The guy she had dated in college became the guy she had married after college.
Then he became the guy who had cheated on her with his secretary at work.
It was so cliché a story she couldn’t bear admitting it to any of her coworkers from her last school. So she had moved cities for this teaching job a year ago. As soon as her divorce was final, she changed back to her maiden name and added the “Ms.”
Whenever any adult asked about her status she would explain she had been married once but it didn’t work out. Whenever any of her students asked she explained something about how it didn’t matter if she was married or had ever been married or not, she was their teacher. Since the male teachers didn’t proclaim their marital status every time someone shared their name, she didn’t see why she should either. And she really meant it too.
She would never change who she was for a man again.
Her best friend, with a husband and three kids of her own, lamented that this was why she was still single.
The guts of a ham radio were spread across three entire desks, so she helped Benny and Carlos clean it up to get them out of class on time. The class was learning about the electromagnetic spectrum and along the way she had thrown in lessons about engineering, mechanics, gotten them amateur radio licenses, and shown them the fun of call signs and talking to people halfway across the world.
She made sure Samantha didn’t forget her jacket again and moved to stand by the door just as the bell rang. If she didn’t watch over them, they’d try to bounce out of the room like an overeager litter of puppies.
In a matter of seconds, the room had emptied, deathly quiet after the mass exit.
It was both her favorite and least favorite part of the day. The room smelled like paste and carpet and like thirty bodies had spent most of the day inside of it. The silence was beautiful after a long day of frenzied activity, but a classroom didn’t feel right without a bunch of students.
That’s why she volunteered at the museum in the afternoons, because her apartment was just as lonely as this classroom, and she couldn’t change any of it.
“Ms. Mannings.” A little girl with a ponytail that stretched halfway down her back stood a few feet away.
Turning, Laura said, “Oh, hi Kaitlyn.” She was a quiet girl among an entire classroom of students, but would often chatter up a storm one on one like this.
So much for peace and quiet. But Laura really did like Kaitlyn. She was a sweet girl interested in pretty much anything related to electronics.
“Did you see how I got the radio to work? It was so cool.”
Laura glanced at the clock. Right. She shook her head slightly, forgetting she had covered the clock in bunnies, pastel streamers, and colored paper eggs for spring.
Just like the kids. Eager to go home.
Her stomach clenched a little bit.
Home to what?
Her parents had both died from different kinds of cancer while she had still been married. She had no siblings, no pets. She was thirty years old now, had been teaching for over five years, but her life had exploded because of the divorce. She had moved to get away from everything and start over.
“My mom said you’re really pretty and it’s a shame you don’t have any kids of your own.”
Kaitlyn’s words punched Laura in the gut. She tried to keep her reaction from showing on her face. Kaitlyn didn’t know any better. She said things with an earnest honesty that Laura could usually take in stride.
Laura moved around the room to finish the final clean up tasks of the day. She took a deep breath and forced her voice into a neutral, emotionless tone. It wasn’t hard. Kaitlyn didn’t mean to hurt her and her mother probably had never intended for her daughter to share that comment with her teacher. “Oh, well, thank your mother for me.”
She gathered the legos used for student engineering projects and began tossing them into their appropriate bins. She liked to test her aim, just for kicks, and could make the shot with an over hand toss of a lego the full length of the classroom almost with her eyes closed.
Laura was good at her job. Being good at her job meant she knew how to control herself and her reactions no matter what the kids might try each day. “Don’t feel bad for me. I have all of you each day to hang out with. I’ve got a lot of kids!”
“But they’re not YOUR kids.”
Laura’s hands paused briefly, done now with the legos. She forced herself to move on, putting away a receiver, it’s coiled cord so foreign to the students who had iPhones, wireless-everything, bluetooth-everything-else, that the coiled cord had seemed fantastical and almost other-worldly, and something everyone was eager to touch.
You’re too controlled. I swear you can’t be real about anything anymore.You talk to me like one of your students. I’ve had enough.
Her ex-husband’s words from when he had blamed HIS affair on her. A flicker of anger rose inside her, but she did not allow it to show. Instead, she continued putting away bins, pushing in chairs, and chatting with Kaitlyn to distract herself from reliving that awful, life-shattering conversation.
Like a switch, she had known their whole relationship was over, had been over for a long time, but she hadn’t seen it until that moment.
He WAS li
ke a student, worse than a student, if he was going to blame her for his own choices. She had told him that in her best, most steady teacher voice too, because it was the only protection she had left and she couldn’t bear to let him see how he had shattered her—or how, deep down, she feared he was right about her.
“Kaitlyn, honey. I’ve got to head over to the museum now.” Laura made a show of grabbing a bunch of glue sticks and stuffing them into her skirt pockets to return to the appropriate bin on the way out. “Make sure you grab all your stuff and I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay, Ms. Mannings. See you tomorrow!” Kaitlyn skipped out of the classroom, completely unaware of the impact of her few simple sentences.
When the door closed behind her and the classroom was truly, completely, empty, all the life drained out of Laura.
She pulled one of the student chairs out and slumped into it, fighting back tears. Her energy level always plummeted after a school day of keeping herself going, going, going. She told herself she was extra tired today, that was all.
Plus, she had been spending a lot of time volunteering at the museum these last few weeks. Her side hobby, to the horror and glee of her students, was in cataloging museum specimens. Laura had been assigned a project by the museum that used her skills to the fullest: steady, emotional control, and her ability to power through mundane, but important tasks.
She was helping the museum researchers catalogue animal bones, especially fossils, but sometimes human bones, from thousands of years ago.
She loved her teaching job, and her museum work, it was just, sometimes, at night, when she’d caught up on all the grading and lesson planning and…
Laura stood up, straightened her clothes, brushed her hair back into place, and washed her hands because—germs.
…She didn’t have time to date, and she couldn’t stand the thought of making herself vulnerable like that with anyone again only to watch them change and pull away and ultimately reject her.
She gathered her purse, locked up the classroom, and pushed all thoughts and emotions aside, except for the next job in front of her. She loved her life—or at least most of it, most of the time.
Her work in the classroom was important, but her work in the museum had become urgent.
She was eager to lose herself in that work tonight.
Word from the director said a new shipment of bones had arrived by way of a confiscation through US customs.
She was determined to help the museum identify them.
Chapter 2
Laura’s flat shoes made soft slaps against the concrete steps that led to the museum’s staff entrance. The building was three stories tall and another two stories underneath the ground, which was where she was headed. The afternoon drowsiness of spring made her slow her steps just a little bit.
In college, she had thought about pursuing museum work as her specialty. She loved the smell and feel of the museum, the history, the significance. But any career she had been interested in at the time required a PhD. Time and finances had conflicted with her ex-husband’s career choices and so…
…she had been an idiot who had sacrificed her own opportunities because of a man. That’s what it came down to—and she had to live with the choices she had made.
Insects buzzed and birds fluttered in the nearby trees. The air smelled full of sweet blossoms. A man Laura had never seen before stood at the staff entrance, swiping his card in the door’s lock.
He looked like he was in his thirties and he wore dark jeans and a collared buttoned up shirt that fit snugly against the clearly toned muscles of his chest and arms. He had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows like he was ready to get to work on something that would require some physical labor. His shirt tucked into the jeans showed off his tight butt and muscular legs.
Laura flushed as a little zing sparked across her skin. Even with his back turned to her, he exuded raw strength and something—what was the word…
…something utterly competent.
The moment broke when he swiped his card one more time through the lock and cursed.
“Hi,” Laura said, stepping forward. She wanted to make her presence known before he continued cursing the door and broke her little daydream fantasy. If he kept cursing up a storm because he couldn’t open a simple locked door—well, that kind of threw competent out the window, didn’t it?
He whirled around. Noises faded, classroom worries disappeared, her hands and feet went numb. She forgot everything as she stared into his striking face. He had the most beautiful, clear blue eyes. Dark lashes and eyebrows framed the blue, making the contrast even more striking. Dark, thick hair covered his head. His five o’clock shadow wrapped around a strong chin that just begged her to reach out and feel its rough, severe texture.
He frowned, but then his expression smoothed and he smiled, revealing straight white teeth and a strong mouth that tilted to one side. He held up an ID Badge that dangled from a red lanyard.
She broke from her reverie and returned his smile while holding up her own museum badge with a red lanyard.
“I’m Heald Davidson,” he said.
Heald Davidson, she silently mouthed. She repeated his name five times, slightly moving her lips each time, trying to burn the name into her memory.
He stilled, staring at her mouth.
Embarrassed, she said, “I’m a teacher. It’s a trick I have that helps me remember student names.”
“What?” The word caught deep in his throat.
She shivered under his gaze until his attention broke and he looked away. She felt the loss of his eyes on her like a cold breeze.
“You were staring,” she said.
“I was not,” he said, sounding offending.
“No. I mean, you were staring at my mouth because it’s how I memorize names. I always repeat a new name to myself five times in a row.”
He frowned and then returned his gaze to her lips, returning the warm flush to her body. “Right, sorry. I’m just distracted. What was your name?”
She held out a hand to shake his. “Laura Mannings.”
His hand engulfed hers and a spark zinged between them. He was warm and strong and gentle. She wondered what it would feel like if he were to cup his arm around her waist and pull her into his chest.
Oh, hell.
She was really, really lonely if she already wanted to spoon with some random stranger five seconds after meeting him.
“Well, Laura. It’s nice to meet you. I guess they haven’t activated my badge yet.”
She still shook his hand. Well, no, they weren’t actually shaking hands, they were just touching, holding onto each other in mid-air. Laura’s eyes flew to the large knot she noticed bulging from Heald’s jeans.
She flushed, pulled her hand away and feeling ridiculous, and really, really awkward now, even as a low ache grew in her stomach.
“So… will you let me inside?” Heald said, voice rough.
Laura’s eyes flew to his face. Inside—
“Inside the building—you have a badge, right?”
Laura licked her lips. Ugg, this was bad. She shook her head, bringing herself back to her senses. She stepped back once, putting more space between them. “Right, of course. I can use mine.”
She twirled her lanyard once around her finger and smiled. She brushed by him, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt against her bare arm. When she reached the door’s lock, she held out her hand to swipe it and then paused. How did she know for sure that he was supposed to be there?
She should ask to see his badge—
Before swiping the door, she stepped back.
She felt the length of his body against hers. He was all hard muscle—chest, flat stomach, an unmistakable bulge in his jeans right at her lower back. She couldn’t help herself and pressed just a little against his knot. Her body was burning from head to toe from an intoxicating electricity.
He froze against her, except for the part of him that throbbed, hot and hard,
against the top of her ass. He brushed his rough hands gently down her bare arms.
“Steady,” Heald said, his voice rough.
Goosebumps broke out along her arms, raising the hair on her skin. What the hell was she doing?
She stepped forward, fumbling with her badge, hot, bothered, and utterly, absolutely embarrassed. “Sorry.”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she brought herself back under control. Facing him, she tried to act casual, tried to pretend she hadn’t just felt the boner in his jeans—and like she hadn’t just rubbed herself up against it like a cat in heat. She didn’t dare look into his eyes in case he could read how much she wanted to jump his bones right then.
Bones.
Unidentified bones.
Right.
She laughed again. “Sorry.”
Shit. She’d said that twice already.
“It’s all right,” he said in a tone of voice that sounded an awful lot like he was trying to hold back a laugh.
A laugh? At her?
She snapped her gaze to his eyes, not afraid anymore—back in full control over herself. His face was in shadow now and there was a mild smile to his lips.
Laura used her best, get-out-your-homework voice. “I need to see your badge.”
Heald frowned. “What?”
“Is that a problem?” Laura said, her voice catching in her throat.
“No,” he said slowly. “Not at all.”
But he hesitated for a half second too long. At least, that’s what Laura told herself to explain away her sudden suspicion of his motives. She was dressed in her regular teacher clothes—an ankle-length patterned skirt, a solid-colored fitted shirt, flats—nothing special to look at. And why didn’t his badge work?
He held the badge out to her by its red lanyard. She grabbed the badge and examined it, avoiding even the slightest brush against his hand. His touch was too dangerous. She didn’t want his electricity to distract her.
Comparing the badge to her own, they were an exact match. Name, volunteer title, everything matched, even down to the red lanyard. His big smile in the picture more than made up for the grainy, pixelated lighting. At least he had great hair. Her badge picture looked ridiculous, like one of her ten year old student’s school pictures.
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