King was already moving toward the phone. Dennis Hawker, a longtime agent at the Atlanta FBI field office, had been a friend of King’s back in college and still kept in touch. King had put in a call to him on Monday, but Dennis was out of town on a case. He must finally be back.
“Dennis,” he said as the agent answered his phone. “I’m putting you on speaker, my man.”
“Since when do you prefer an audience?”
And those were the joys of working with people who’d known you since you were still figuring out your path in life. Of course, Saint hadn’t known King back then, and he never hesitated to give him a hard time, even now.
“He always prefers an audience,” his friend joked. “Builds his status, ya know.”
King growled at Saint. Dain cleared his throat. “Dennis, good to speak with you again.”
The mantle of responsibility fell over them, wiping away the congenial atmosphere. Even Dennis seemed to feel it. “Dain,” he said, more formally this time, “likewise. You all have an interesting case going on over there, huh?”
“You got my e-mail?” King asked.
“Sure did.”
“We believe we’ve stumbled onto a baby-selling ring that has gotten its tentacles into an adoption facilitating organization here in Atlanta,” Dain explained. “We have two women we know definitively who’ve been targeted, one whose child was taken, one whose family was paid for her unborn child. There are likely more.”
Dennis grunted. “Makes sense. We plugged into a national task force last year investigating a nationwide ring. They traced a couple of their contacts here, and it took off from there.”
“So there is a known ring operating here in Atlanta?” Saint asked.
“Given its location, Atlanta is a hub for all sorts of trafficking, but as far as a baby-selling ring…a branch of one is being tracked here, yes.”
Some of the weight they’d all been carrying lifted; King could tell by the easing of the tension in his team members’ bodies. Knowing they had heavy-duty firepower already at work on the selling end of this ring gave them not only backup, but hope.
“About the image I sent over yesterday,” King said. They’d managed a clear screenshot of their intruder, and if he was part of the network Dennis’s fellow agents were investigating, that could give them some leads on local connections.
“About that…” The sound of rustling papers came through the speakerphone. “The guy you’re looking for is Jason West. A mid-level East Coast enforcer. We’ve tracked his movements primarily in the Southeast—”
“Not enough hard evidence to pick him up?” Elliot asked. Her game plan consisted of identify and eliminate, a fact she’d demonstrated with lethal accuracy when they’d gone up against her father, Martin Diako, a few months ago. Tolerance for wait-and-see operations wasn’t high on her priority list.
“No, there isn’t,” Dennis said firmly. “Not to mention any hint of observation could send the rats running. The fingers of this thing spread out nationally; tag and release is the game right now.”
For how long? If any more of Charlotte’s calls panned out, they could prove this ring had been operating here for years.
King met Elliot’s narrowed gaze and knew she was thinking the same thing. The good news was, Dennis and his team were responsible for investigating the selling end, the ring that took possession of these babies and found new, wealthy homes for them, but King’s team was focused on the other end: cutting off supply. Whoever had latched on to Creating Families as a source couldn’t be allowed to continue. This person or persons had attracted the wrong attention, and now that King’s team was on the case, that person’s time was up.
“Why would West break in here?” Saint asked. “I don’t see the sellers doing the dirty work. They’d squeeze their contact for the child or the money, maybe go after it if their contact was dead, but other than that…”
“We know whoever it is, isn’t dead. No one in Charlotte’s circle has died or disappeared except Richard Jones, and he’s not smart enough to pull off a longtime con,” Dain said.
“If West came after your client,” Dennis said, “it was the only way they could get close enough.”
King clenched his fists. “Because their go-between is incapable of doing it. Why?”
“They’re incompetent,” Elliot offered.
“They’re recognizable,” Saint said at the same time.
Dain nodded at them both. “Exactly. Can you picture a single person we’ve met so far that’s capable of infiltration?”
They all answered in the negative.
King turned the question over in his mind before trying a different angle. “Our guy,” he said, for want of a better way to identify the enemy, “may not have the ability to infiltrate undetected. But he couldn’t have successfully stolen more than one baby without the ability to make contact and maintain a business relationship with a ruthless gang of heartless baby sellers. We need to evaluate who on our list has the balls for that.”
“Any clues as to who their contact is on the local level?” King asked.
“Definitely more than one,” Dennis said. “There are too many babies coming through for it to be only one—that would be too noticeable. We’re zeroing in on possible connections, but so far nothing seems to connect known subjects to the names you’ve sent me.”
King’s team would make the connection; they had to. “Thanks, Dennis. I’m sending you some information we gained today and a contact if you want to interview the woman we uncovered. Any resources you can give us on tracking down the missing baby would be greatly appreciated.”
They made plans to talk further; then King closed out the call. Planting his fists on the table, he eyed the grim faces surrounding him. “Okay, what next?”
∞
Charlotte refused her mother’s knocking, needing to hide away from the pain of memories she struggled to keep buried on a good day. Memories Kim Alexander had dragged up in her quest to breach the connection between Charlotte and King, a connection Charlotte wasn’t even certain she wanted. She could be fooling herself. All the…stuff…going on right now could be messing with her brain. And her heart.
King had been gone for years; was this just proximity and chemistry rearing its head, or something else?
Did it matter right now?
“Charlotte?”
That wasn’t her mother. Elliot’s voice drew her to the door of her bedroom. There was nothing she could do about red-rimmed eyes and the pounding in her head that she was certain showed on her face, but she wouldn’t neglect her duty.
Elliot’s knowing gaze stared back at her as she opened the door. Surely King hadn’t told his team? No, those eyes had traced her face and seen exactly what she’d known they would see. “Yes?”
“We need to meet with you and your family,” Elliot said, not unkindly.
“Okay.” Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. “Give me five minutes?” Maybe that would allow her time to add some makeup to her ravaged face, give her some semblance of dignity in front of King and his teammates.
“That’ll work.” Elliot was already turning toward the hall. “I’ll bring Becky down as well.”
Good. Becky had far more at risk than Charlotte, and she was glad to see they weren’t excluding her simply because she was young.
Exactly five minutes later, Charlotte walked into the front sitting room. Everyone was present but Elliot and Becky, who followed closely behind Charlotte. They all took their seats, Charlotte careful to keep her focus on Dain and Dain alone.
“We’ve had a couple of developments,” he said once everyone was settled. “The FBI has a task force already working on gathering evidence to prosecute the perpetrators of this ring. They’ve agreed to work with us in return for any information we can give them. Unfortunately that doesn’t lead us any farther toward the person or persons working as a go-between with the ring selling the babies.”
“Are we certain there is a go-between?”
Charlotte’s father asked. “Maybe these people are contacting the families or birth mothers directly.”
“We considered that,” Dain assured him. “Based on intel from the FBI regarding yesterday’s intruder, we are certain he cannot be the go-between. He had too much inside information about your home and your family’s routines. There is someone else feeding him information, and that someone knows all of you very well.”
Charlotte’s mom took a shuddering breath. Charlotte reached for Becky’s hand where she sat beside her, trying hard to convey confidence and strength. “We will keep you and the baby safe.”
Becky nodded. “I know that.” She rubbed a hand over her rounded stomach, fatigue darkening her eyes.
“Becky,” King said, “we want you to know that, even after you give birth, your child will be protected. If we have to put the adoptive family under protective custody, we will. Nothing will happen to you—”
“You won’t have to do that,” Becky said, straightening her shoulders.
“Becky…” Charlotte gave the swollen hand in hers a gentle squeeze.
“I’m going to keep her,” Becky announced firmly, then met Charlotte’s eyes. “I want to keep her. I want to be a good mom, just like you would be.”
Pain caved in Charlotte’s chest, but she fought to keep her face serene. “You will be an excellent mother. And we’ll be right here to help you any way we can.”
Becky searched deep in her gaze, then nodded. Turning back to Dain and King, she said, “We’ll be staying here.”
The men smiled. “Of course,” King said. “I never really doubted that.”
Charlotte hadn’t either. All Becky had needed was security and resources, neither of which she’d had until her father abandoned her. A silver lining in a world of mess.
Which reminded her… “Where are we with Violet?”
“Who is Violet?” her dad asked.
Saint stepped in, and Charlotte wondered if the man was seeking to keep Ben’s attention away from his friend. “While at CF today, we discovered another young woman whose baby had been stolen.”
Becky gasped.
“We’re currently moving her to a safe house that we’ve established for her and any other women like her that need protection. They will stay there while Charlotte works to get them on their feet and safely established—”
“And while we assist the FBI in a search for their children in hopes of reuniting them,” Dain said.
Her dad cleared his throat. “I’ll discuss specifics with you later, Dain. I’d like to assist with that effort, even if money is all I can contribute.”
“Money isn’t anything to sneeze at,” Dain reminded him. A safe house, protection, living expense…the bills would add up quickly. Charlotte made a mental note to discuss with Vicky what CF resources they could divert to help the women.
Then jerked her thoughts to a stop. She couldn’t tell Vicky, not yet. She couldn’t tell anyone at work.
Which brought her to their next complication. “What do we plan to do about the Magnolia Ball?”
“I thought your attendance was canceled, Charlotte?” Her mom’s narrowed gaze asked far more questions than the obvious.
Dain quietly informed her parents of the donation the chairwoman had informed CF of, and Charlotte’s now mandatory appearance. “We’ve decided, with Charlotte’s agreement, that attending is imperative.”
“Because you might catch whoever is after her?”
Dain gave her father an approving glance. “Yes. We believe we can root him out.”
Charlotte ignored the concerned glances being shot her way. “We’re working on a plan for that, correct?” she asked Dain.
“We are,” he agreed. “So let’s discuss the options we’ve come up with so far.”
Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte slid the champagne silk from its padded hanger and draped it carefully over her bed. The intensity of her mother’s stare from the opposite side of the bed made her even more jittery than she already was, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had a charity event to get ready for.
“I don’t think this is safe,” her mom repeated for maybe the tenth time since their meeting last night with Dain and his team.
“I know, Mom.” Charlotte wasn’t sure how she felt about the plan either—except scared, definitely—but Dain was the expert. If he thought this was the best chance they had of catching West and the person feeding him information, she had no choice but to go with it.
Or maybe you just want the chance to be alone with King again. Anything for an excuse.
Yes, her conscience was as bad as her mother right now. Was there anyone not giving her a hard time at this point?
Becky. Elliot. Saint, if she didn’t count his teasing as a hard time. That was about it.
“I don’t trust King to keep you safe,” Mom said.
“I know.” She pulled the edges of her robe tighter, refusing to give in to the urge to retreat to the nearby bathroom and never come out again. If only fixing what was wrong between her family and King—or heck, even her and King—was that simple. “Mom…”
“You know I’m right.”
“No, I don’t know any such thing.”
“Well, I do!” Her mother seemed to surprise herself with the force of her words. Lips that had once been full with youth now pressed hard together, trying to keep her argument inside. Charlotte prayed she’d succeed, but the hope of that felt slim. There was too much going on, too much pressing at them from all sides; her parents could only be expected to put up with so much before they let their true feelings loose.
“Mom.” Charlotte cleared her throat. If she didn’t put her foot down now, they would never work their way past this, and they had to, no matter how much easier it would be to ignore it. “Mom, you know I love you and Dad, and I would never want to disappoint you.”
“But?”
“But…” She tried in vain to ease her death grip on the robe’s lapel. “What I choose to believe about King or do with him is my business. I need the two of you to understand that.”
“So you are getting back with him?”
“I—” How to answer that? It wasn’t her decision alone, but if it was? “There is too much going on to decide something like that, but pressure from you and Dad is not going to make things go your way. I have to make that call when the time comes. But now is not that time.”
Her mom opened her mouth, probably to argue, but a knock at the door forestalled her.
“Charlotte, about ready?”
Elliot. Charlotte moved back to the bed and dropped her robe. “Just a minute!”
Five minutes later the dress was hugging her curves in sinfully cool silk, four-inch heels gave her a bit of height, and carefully applied makeup helped cover the evidence of too much drama and not enough sleep in the past week. She exited the bathroom to find Elliot standing with her mom, a black sheath dress doing wonderful things for her athletic curves.
“Nice!”
Elliot glowered in Charlotte’s direction without meeting her gaze. “I don’t want to hear a word about it.”
“Why not? You look gorgeous.”
Her mom waved away the words. “I already tried, Charlotte.”
“Well, we’ll just have to try harder.”
“To what?”
The gravel-rough voice came from the hallway. Charlotte swung around, silk floating against her skin, and caught her breath at the sight of King standing in the door in formal wear that did even more for his muscular body than the tight T-shirts and snug fatigues that made up his uniform.
“To…uh…” She glanced between Elliot and King. “Never mind.” Snatching up a thin shawl and clutch, she gave her mom a passing kiss and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
Saint played chauffeur. When Charlotte followed Elliot into the back seat, she found the woman sitting on the backward-facing bench with a handsome dark-haired man Charlotte hadn’t seen before. Once she was settled,
King beside her in a black tux identical to the newcomer’s, the man reached out a hand. “Deacon Walsh,” he said, his deep voice and the dangerous edge around his eyes making her shiver. “Elliot’s fiancé.”
Charlotte’s wide-eyed glance at Elliot was intended to convey how impressed she was. The woman actually blushed deep enough for Charlotte to see the pink in the twilight inside the car.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Deacon,” she said, making no attempt at all to hide her grin. He returned it with a roguish tilt of his lips before dragging Elliot close against his hip.
“Deacon has security experience,” King began.
“A lot of experience.” Deacon smirked.
Charlotte could hear the eye roll in King’s response. “Of course he does.” He cleared his throat. “They’ll be shadowing us at the ball for close-cover security.”
“I appreciate your help,” Charlotte told Deacon.
“I wouldn’t miss the chance to see my spitfire in a dress like this one.”
“Be careful or I’ll stab you.” Elliot slid a hand down her thigh, pulling the thin material of the dress tight against her skin, and Charlotte realized with a start that the ridge she was seeing was a strap, probably holding a knife to the shapely slope of muscle above Elliot’s knee.
“I think she means it,” she said.
“Oh, she does.” Deacon’s growl was one of the sexiest sounds Charlotte had ever heard. She could barely make out his wink in the growing gloom inside the limo.
Elliot’s laugh seemed huskier than usual. Charlotte couldn’t help laughing as well.
The Magnolia Ball was held every year at the Swan House in Buckhead, about an hour north of Charlotte’s parents’ house, on the opposite end of Atlanta. Now part of the Atlanta History Center, the 1930s mansion went through extensive renovations early in the twenty-first century, and Charlotte got a thrill every time she pulled up the drive and saw the glorious steps lining either side of a scalloped fountain cascading down the front hill. Two iconic blue doors were thrown wide this evening, inviting the cream of Atlanta’s society inside the antebellum mansion.
Deny Me Page 12
