Deny Me (Southern Nights Enigma Book 4)

by Ella Sheridan

  “About three weeks.”

  Every time Becky answered that question, Charlotte could see the hint of uncertainty in her eyes. She couldn’t imagine being so close to what would be a life-changing moment for the girl. And now her whole world was falling apart on top of that. She settled a hand on Becky’s blanket-covered ankle, wishing she could do more to soothe her.

  “I’ve already spoken to Dr. Keller, the on-call physician at CF,” her mom said. “She’ll be coming by today to check Becky and Charlotte out, but we’ll need to make some arrangements with Becky’s doctor if she wants to continue with him instead. I’m sure we’ll manage.”

  Money usually smoothed the way. At least Becky was familiar with Susan Keller.

  “Which brings me to a very important discussion.”

  A subtle change in Elliot’s tone, her posture, told Charlotte the woman was shifting into business mode.

  “Security is best here at the house,” she said, her lips twisting a bit at the end. “You already know that, of course, but most people don’t consider how much time they actually spend away from home. So we need to discuss your typical routines, your daily obligations, and see how we can arrange to transfer those here, inside the gates, where we can better control what happens.”

  Charlotte’s throat closed up. This was the reality of what they were facing, wasn’t it? For how long?

  “Becky can’t deliver her baby here,” she pointed out. “This is her first child; she’ll need a hospital with emergency services available in case of unforeseen complications.” Yes, women chose home births all the time, but Charlotte wouldn’t risk Becky’s life.

  “We’ll figure something out by then.” Elliot’s gaze shifted from Charlotte to Becky, seeming to want to reassure them both. “In the meantime…let’s really get to know one another.”

  They discussed Becky’s family situation, which was nil. Her father had no relatives, and her mother had left long before. The girl was on her own.

  Well, not totally on her own. Charlotte patted Becky’s swollen ankle gently.

  “What about my dad?” Becky asked hesitantly. “What if he comes back?”

  Elliot leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “He’s on the run and will likely stay that way—he has not only the cops looking for him, but whoever he took the money from as well. If he does come back, he’ll be arrested for attempted murder. You do not have to worry about him at all. We will keep you safe—from him or any other threat that makes itself known, okay?”

  “Becky.” Charlotte waited till the girl’s eyes met hers. “We can also talk to Wes and see what would be involved in declaring you an emancipated minor, or if that even needs to happen since you’ll be a mother. Whatever we need to do, we’ll sever the ties with your dad. I promise.” They had all the evidence they’d need now.

  Becky nodded.

  There was no reason to go back to the trailer, thank goodness. School was also taken care of—CF had set her up in an online high school earlier in her pregnancy so she didn’t have to drop out when the baby came. She could study at home and get her diploma. A laptop already waited on a desk in one corner of the room. Charlotte knew for a fact that Becky was well ahead in her classes and would likely graduate early.

  CF had its own education expert, one of many people on Charlotte’s staff who offered their expertise to help those in need. Counseling, medical, education, legal, financial assistance to families who wanted to adopt but couldn’t afford the fees. Babies had begun Charlotte’s interest in adoptions, but the people she’d met, on both sides of the equation, had quickly come to mean just as much to her.

  “All right, Charlotte, on to you.” Elliot’s serious gaze swept her way.

  She’d never analyzed how she spent her days; she’d just spent them. “I mostly work at CF.” Weekdays, weekends, it didn’t really matter. There was plenty to do and, as with most nonprofits, not enough hands to do it, although Charlotte had far more resources than most.

  “Long hours,” her mom put in.

  Charlotte grimaced. So she was a workaholic. “I’m not president of the organization in name only. I try to stay as hands-on as I can with every client. Every family.” It was important.

  What else? “I sometimes have events I need to attend, fundraising for CF or other nonprofits.”

  “Anything coming up in the next few weeks?” Elliot asked.

  “A couple of things. I can download my calendar for you.”

  “That would work. I’ll need your contact list while you’re at it. We can go through it together and discuss who is close enough to consider for access. What about personal involvement—any boyfriends?”

  Becky gave a little giggle beside her. It was such a teen thing to do that Charlotte couldn’t help but grin.

  She didn’t notice her mother leaning forward. “Well,” Mom said, “Wes is—”

  “A close friend.” Charlotte shot her mother a warning look.

  “Very close.”

  She fought not to roll her eyes. How did they get from her daily routine to the Wes-is-great-husband-material argument? One could only pray they didn’t bring the subject up with King in the room. Her ex and his first cousin—God, wouldn’t that be awkward?

  She looked to Elliot, seeing a hint of amusement in the quirk of the woman’s lips. “No boyfriends.”

  The amusement got the better of Elliot—she smirked. “Okay, no boyfriends.”

  Charlotte’s answering grin slowly faded as Elliot began quizzing her mom on household details and routines. No boyfriends. Wes had made it clear that he would move beyond the friendship stage with her at the slightest signal, but he deserved far more than she could ever give him. Than she could ever give anyone. The dream of a relationship, of marriage and family had died ten years ago.

  When she finished with Charlotte’s mom, Elliot turned back to her. “Let’s get that contact list first. Dain will likely want to go over it as well.”

  “Why?” Wasn’t Elliot enough?

  Elliot stood. “Just a precaution. We don’t know who our enemy is. Unfortunately, too often it’s someone far closer to us than we’d really like to think about.”

  Elliot sounded like she’d had experience in that area, something Charlotte might ask her about later. But the idea that anyone she came into regular contact with would be selling babies was ludicrous.

  Becky cleared her throat, gaining their attention. Rubbing her belly, she asked, “Are we really safe here?”

  Charlotte closed her eyes for the briefest moment. Becky shouldn’t be worrying about safety; she should be focused on her child.

  Elliot moved to the sofa and crouched next to Becky. “I assure you, Becky, that we absolutely know what we’re doing. No one, and I mean no one, is getting past us. You and your baby will be safe, no matter what we have to do to ensure that.”

  Charlotte felt the same. No matter what.

  Chapter Nine

  The afternoon quiet was broken only by the clicking of King’s fingers on his keyboard and the creaking of the wooden chair beneath him as he shifted, trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t feel like it was bruising his ass. He swore Ruth used to have cushions on the old oak chairs that sat around the long table in the servants’ dining room, but if she had, they’d disappeared before he’d walked through the door. He’d gladly suffer the older woman’s grudge, but he hated to admit to his team that he was the reason they had to suffer the bare wood seats day after day.

  He’d just gotten up to stretch his kinked back when the swinging door pushed inward and Wes walked through. They hadn’t been alone since his cousin had come to his office yesterday morning, but it was still a shock when the jolt of familiarity went through him. Familiarity and curiosity. For years he’d blocked his family from his mind, not wanting to deal with the pain of losing everything familiar to follow his calling. Now his family was waiting around every corner—or through every door.

  “Hey, Wes.”

  “Hey.”


  He eyed the less than crisp lines of Wes’s suit. “Long day at the office?”

  “Considering I’ve been up since three, yeah.”

  Wes had always been a hard worker, but King doubted he set his alarm for three. “Worried?”

  A vee creased between Wes’s brows. “Aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.” He just had more training in not thinking about it. Not thinking about Charlotte. If he did, too much emotion could cloud his judgment when he needed it. Besides, he had no right to worry about her anymore. “We will protect her, Wes. We’ll protect them both.”

  Wes slumped into a chair to King’s left, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “You know, I actually hesitated before I came to see you. How could I do that?” He shook his head. “What if I hadn’t? God knows who could be coming after them. And I was going to let petty jealousy get in the way of that.”

  “Jealousy?” Wes was the one who’d been by Charlotte’s side, not King.

  Wes gave him a wry smile as he stared up at King leaning against his chair back. “You probably don’t realize it, but yours are hard shoes to fill.”

  “It should never have been about filling my shoes, Wes.” Lord knew his decisions hadn’t been ones he’d encourage anyone to make; they’d hurt too much. He’d spent enough of his life trying to be someone he wasn’t, and he’d definitely never wanted that for the man he’d considered his brother.

  But Wes wasn’t talking about their family, was he? He was talking about Charlotte. He ignored the knot in his stomach to say what needed to be said. “Charlotte and I made our decisions a long time ago; you know that.” Just because he was helping keep her safe didn’t mean he was waiting for her to fall into his arms.

  Wes’s blue eyes, so like his, locked on. “I know.”

  “And I’m not the successful lawyer who didn’t walk away from his family, remember?” Wes had always been the family golden boy, King the family troublemaker.

  “I know.” But something dark lurked in his gaze.

  The silence that fell between them felt awkward. King hated that. He’d missed his cousin, the easy comradery they’d once had, more than he’d allowed himself to realize. He dropped his eyes to the dark oak table, cleared his throat. “So you and Charlotte are serious, then?”

  The darkness was gone when King looked back at his cousin, replaced by a grin. “Let’s just say I’m working on it.”

  And bastard that he was, King felt relief surge through him—working on it was not yes. He opened his mouth, unsure what to say, but closed it when Dain walked through the door. Instead he found his seat, wishing for the tenth time today that he was sitting in his cushy command chair back in his office.

  Wes waited until Dain and Saint had come in before asking, “Any news?”

  King shook his head. “My contact in the investigation into Jones is fairly forthcoming, but it’s too early to have any leads. They’ve got an APB out on the motorcycle and they’re watching Jones’s credit cards, but the man probably has enough cash on hand to stay off the grid a long while.”

  “He’ll make a mistake,” Wes said. “He’s not smart enough to stay hidden forever.”

  “Unless he wants to stay alive,” Dain pointed out. “Survival can be a powerful motivator.”

  Wes raked a hand through his perfectly cut hair. “True.”

  “We have something in common with them, actually.” Saint picked up a pen and began to doodle on the pad of paper in front of him. King knew from experience that his friend used the drawing to work out puzzles in their investigations in his head. “We’ve only been here since yesterday afternoon. It’s too early to know much of anything, including who our enemy really is.”

  Saint was right. King was awaiting response from a local FBI friend to see if there was a task force in place in their region to look for possible baby selling rings. The police investigations would move slowly. Tonight they would work in split shifts along with three additional men from the office to patrol the house and grounds, and cameras had been put in place to capture every angle of the estate. For now, their only option was to hunker down and wait for the enemy to make a mistake.

  Not that he’d tell Wes that.

  “Would these people not just cut their losses instead of risking getting caught?” Wes was asking.

  “We can’t trust that they will,” Dain answered. “Where are we on the contact lists?” he asked King.

  King gestured toward his laptop. “Elliot downloaded Charlotte’s from her cell phone and computer. Becky didn’t have a cell, but she did have e-mail and IM on the laptop Creating Families gave her for school, which will help us wade through the list she gave us of her friends. I’ve also got the information she gave me on people who may have heard from Richard.”

  Wes frowned. “You think someone on their contacts lists was involved?”

  Something his cousin said made King pause, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to make the thought solidify. “You can never have too much information.”

  “Any overlap?” Dain asked.

  “Only from Creating Families.”

  Saint opened his laptop. “I’m beginning background checks on Becky’s contacts.”

  Becky’s contacts.

  “The question we have to answer is, who would have access and try to sell a child? We assumed it was someone close to the family,” King said slowly, feeling his way through the maze of thoughts in his head. “Assuming this attempt isn’t a one-off, which I guess is always a possibility—”

  Saint shook his head. “Do we really think Richard Jones had the know-how to both find and contact a baby-selling ring to offer up his child’s baby?”

  King leaned back in his chair, grimacing as pain shot through his shoulders and lower back. “So, not a one-off.” Putting his hands behind his head, he shifted his unseeing gaze to the ceiling. “These kinds of setups are usually nationwide, both for recruitment and placement of the ‘product’—too many in one area would draw attention if they went missing. But not if the mothers already intended to adopt them and all that changed was the family receiving them.”

  “And that means access to places women who intend to adopt would be,” Dain said, catching his drift. A glimmer of excitement sparked in his dark eyes when King met them.

  Wes muttered a curse under his breath. “You think someone at Creating Families is doing this?”

  Yes. “Not necessarily,” King assured him. “It could be someone close to CF’s business—a service they use, a contractor, a…” The words faded as Wes’s face turned white.

  “Someone close to Charlotte?”

  “They’d need localized connections to find babies, and CF has all that they need in one place,” Saint said.

  How did they find out if any other babies had disappeared?

  Dain leaned forward, elbows planted on the table. “We’re going to need access to CF files and personnel records, Wes.”

  His cousin cleared his throat. “A lot of those files cannot be shared. They contain private medical information, information about mothers and babies, closed adoptions.” His hands relaxed on the table, his voice going to lawyer neutral. “I can’t release those things without express permission from those involved.”

  Dain sighed. “I can see that. Okay, plan B. We’ll start with personnel—I need a list of employee names and records, as well as a list of service providers Creating Families is affiliated with. We’ll move to donors after that.”

  “But—” Wes stopped. His shoulders slumped. King thought his cousin looked even more weary than when he’d come in, as if the thought of someone at Creating Families being responsible for this made him sick. King understood, although it made him angry instead of sick. He’d looked into the basic background and structure of the organization Charlotte had founded, the work they did to help people. The thought that someone was taking advantage of that… Fuck.

  Wes took a deep breath, rubbed his hands over his face, then stood. “
I’ll need to consult with Charlotte.”

  Dain’s and Saint’s protests joined King’s.

  Wes squared his shoulders. “I don’t have a choice. No one knows every angle of the organization like she does.” A halfhearted smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Besides, if I don’t, she’ll kill me. This might hurt her more than the car accident; CF is her baby.”

  King went to his side, laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a definite. But it is a lead, one we have to follow through on.”

  “Of course.” For a moment Wes was still under his palm; then his cousin turned to give him a chest-bump, slap-on-the-back kind of hug. “I’ll be back.”

  King watched him leave, then glanced toward his teammates. Both men’s faces said exactly what he felt: this wasn’t just a lead. It was the best lead they had—and it might devastate Charlotte if they weren’t incredibly careful.

  Chapter Ten

  The elevator at the back of the house was put in for Ruth several years ago. The housekeeper had been with their family since Charlotte was a baby, and when arthritis developed in one of her knees, she’d refused to retire. Ben had acquiesced—then proceeded to put in an elevator and hire two maids to come in daily and do the heavy lifting so Ruth didn’t overtax herself. People often said, What Daddy wants, he gets, in a condescending way, but her father took care of those around him, often in overly generous ways, financially and emotionally.

  Tonight the elevator was perfect for an eight-months-pregnant teen and a concussion-recovering woman needing to get from the third to the first floor without taking the stairs.

  “Charlotte?”

  She glanced at the hesitant look on Becky’s face. The girl appeared more rested after two days with Charlotte than she had her entire pregnancy living with her father. “Yeah?”

  The ding of the bell announcing their arrival caused Becky to hesitate. They stepped into the back hall, the only ones around. Charlotte put her hand on Becky’s arm, stopping her when she would have moved away. “Tell me what’s going on. Are you feeling okay?”