Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 2)

by James, Marysol

  “I did? You did?”

  “Yeah. You’ve been out for almost four hours.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.” He stroked her tumbled red curls off her face. “You’re pushing yourself way too hard with the physio and handling all this stuff with Naomi. Just – just stay still and breathe for a minute, alright?”

  She turned to face him and cuddled down in to his arms. She rested her forehead against his broad chest, felt his steady heartbeat under her fingertips. “I was so scared when I woke up and had no memory of getting here… I thought that I was starting to forget new things, too.”

  His arms tightened around her. “You didn’t forget anything, doll.”

  “OK.” She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “OK.”

  He made small circles on her still-tense back. “You were so wiped out, it worried me a bit. Was last night too much? I was too hard on you?”

  Sarah pulled back and gave him a shining, wicked smile. They had made love the night before, for the first time in more than two months, and it had been nothing less than incredible. Exhausting, for sure, but it was that amazing exhaustion that only Jax made her feel: he left her limp and sated, but still craving him, still hungering for more. No matter how many times he took her, there was no such thing as enough of him, no such thing as too much from him.

  She saw the worry on his handsome face, though, so she kissed him. “No. You were perfect last night.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She slowly ran her foot up the side of his leg. “The whole night was perfect.”

  Jax grinned now. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” She made that low, throaty sound that she knew he loved. Sure enough, those dark green eyes sparked in to flame. “What time are you going to Curves tonight?”

  “I have about two hours.”

  “Two, huh?”

  “Yep.” His hand was tracing the curve of her generous hip now. “Why are you asking?”

  “Oh, no reason. Just wondering if you want to make the first part of this evening perfect too.”

  “What did you have in mind, Red?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Maybe I can show you?” She pressed her palm against the front of his jeans. “It would help things quite a bit if you took these off, though, Stud.”

  “Oh, God, baby.” Jax groaned as she rubbed herself against his hardness. “Yes. Show me.”

  **

  King made eye contact with Tex and Honey. They were watching the warehouse closely and he saw their wariness even from thirty feet away.

  Yeah, I'm with you, guys. This is all wrong.

  "King?" Knox's voice in his earpiece was hushed. "You there?"

  "Yeah," he muttered. "You and Tank in position?"

  "Copy that."

  "What do you see?"

  A short pause. "Nothing much. No guard at the door, no cameras. The van is in the garage and the door is fucking wide open."

  "Who the hell leaves the getaway vehicle in plain sight like that?" King said. "This is fucking amateur hour, man. No way these are the same people who took the kid from the hospital. That was textbook."

  "No shit. Whoever these guys are, they're just the babysitters."

  King looked at his watch. "OK. We move in two and on my mark. Knox, you and Tank take the front, Honey and Tex take the side. You clear my way and I'll retrieve the package. Guys?"

  "Copy, boss," Honey said. "We got it."

  "And as tempting as it is to shoot these fuckers in the head, refrain for the moment," King said. "These boys aren't the ones we really want, but they have to know something. Maybe we'll be able to persuade them to talk before we bring in the cops."

  His team murmured their assent, then fell silent. King stared at the back door some more, pondering his next few moves. No way to tell for sure where Freddie Karr was, but he was determined to find him. King just hoped it was in one piece and still sucking in air.

  For just one second, he allowed himself to think about Pete and Jillian Karr; their pale, stricken faces had haunted his dreams for the past week. Despite not being wealthy people, they'd hired King's Men after almost a week of cooperating with the police. The cops were doing their best, but Freddie was the eighth newborn to go missing from hospitals all over Colorado in the past four months, and they were simply overwhelmed by false leads and mired in jurisdictional red tape.

  King's Men had no such issues. They gave finding that baby their full attention and they didn't worry about treading carefully around the local PD egos and politics. There were huge advantages to being private contractors and that included calling their own fucking shots.

  "OK," King said. "Tex and Honey, go."

  "Roger that."

  Flat on his stomach, King watched as they approached the side door, guns drawn. Tex tried the door and looked stunned when it was actually unlocked. He and Honey shook their heads and King did too. What kind of fucking kidnappers were this careless? Stupid ones, for damn sure, but also unprofessional, overconfident ones. He very much hoped that all these things would work against them now. Arrogant meant unprepared, in King's experience, and that was something he'd be happy to exploit.

  "We're in," Honey said.

  "Anyone?"

  "No. But we hear them. They're close to the front."

  "Excellent. Tank and Knox, go in hot on my mark. Anyone tries to get out the side doors, Honey and Tex, you shoot 'em in the fucking knees. I'll handle the back."

  "With pleasure," Tex growled.

  "I'm moving now," King said. "Wait for my green."

  "Got it, boss," Tank said. "Waitin'."

  He ran to the back of the building, alert and aware of everything. He got to the door and was mildly surprised to find it locked, but it was an old-fashioned key lock and he flicked it open in less than twenty seconds. He eased the door open, stood back. No movement inside, no noise, so he ducked in quickly.

  "I'm in," he said quietly. "Go."

  He heard the blast as Tank blew the front door clean off its hinges with his shotgun, heard the panicked voices and shouting. Moving now, moving towards the chaos, he came face-to-face with a man. The little prick blinked in shock and raised his gun.

  Without a second of hesitation, King shot him in the hand. The man howled and dropped the gun, and King was on him. He smashed his head in to the floor and the man went still.

  "Asshole," King muttered and got to his feet again. He stuck the man's gun in the waistband of his jeans – never know when a spare might come in handy – and crept down the hallway.

  The shooting was much louder now, and he heard his people shouting commands to stand still and drop weapons. From the sound of Tex's roars, these idiots weren't such great listeners and King grinned when he heard the unmistakable sound of fists on flesh and bone. It was ugly in there, no doubt about that, but that wasn't King's concern. His people were handling the kidnappers and he had to find that baby.

  I'm coming, kiddo. You just hang in there.

  He moved faster, checking every room, every corner. The fact that Freddie wasn't crying after all that noise was worrying; King hoped that whatever drugs they'd given him weren't too strong. They had some supplies here and Knox could handle basic medical shit, but none of his team were real doctors.

  There was one closed door at the very end of the hall and he approached it carefully, sure that this was where Freddie was. He listened, heard nothing inside, turned the handle, flung the door open. It rebounded off the wall and he stepped aside, expecting a blast of gunfire, but absolutely nothing happened.

  They left the baby alone? Goddammit, these guys are morons and I truly look forward to having a word with them.

  There was a filthy bundle on the floor and King's heart actually stopped when he saw a tiny hand peeking out from the blankets. He kicked the door closed behind him and locked it, holstered his gun and ripped off the kevlar. He crossed the room in
three paces and fell to his knees next to the baby. Gently, so gently, he plucked Freddie from the stinking blankets and settled him against his chest.

  "Hey, little man," he murmured. "Come on now... make a sound for me, OK?"

  Freddie's face was scarily pale, his breathing deep and slow. King felt his pulse, noticing how huge his fingers were on the baby's delicate neck; it was sluggish and he felt his own heart rate spike with worry.

  "Guys?" he said. "We clear?"

  "Clear," Tank said. "Me and Honey just did a sweep. We're good."

  "I'm coming out now. I've got him."

  Sighs of relief were breathed in his ear and he opened the door slowly, nodded when he saw Tex standing there.

  "How is he?" Tex said.

  "Drugged."

  Tex clenched his hands. "Can we kick their fucking heads in now?"

  "Yep. I was just thinking the same thing. And call in that ambulance."

  "Copy that, boss."

  King walked in to a large room. It stank of cigarettes and booze and he was shocked, yet again, at the stupidity at play here. No professional got drunk on the job, and he eyed the four bleeding men with more than his usual rancor. He cradled Freddie closer, wanting the baby to feel his body heat and hear his heart, even if he was so far under that he didn't even know to cry.

  "What the fuck did you give him?" King heard the fury in his own voice. "No dicking around now, boys."

  They looked down and away, and King narrowed his eyes at them.

  "Knox?" He was quiet now. "Take him, yeah? Check him?"

  Knox took Freddie from his arms and everyone watched as he tenderly laid the tiny, limp body on Tank's coat. Knox checked his breathing, listened to his heart, lifted his eyelids. The whole time, King kept his eyes nailed on the four men.

  "He's definitely been drugged," Knox said. "But it's wearing off now. Strong heartbeat, good breathing sounds."

  "He's OK?" King said.

  "Yeah."

  "Lucky for you," he said to the men. "So now I can ask you a few questions about your employer. Is that cool with you guys?"

  "Fuck you," said the one with the biggest death wish. "We ain't telling you shit."

  King approached him now, watched the man's eyes get big in his face. The men were sitting at a long table that was scattered with playing cards and empty beer bottles. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and they were dripping blood all over the damn place. King figured a bit more damage couldn't hurt at this point.

  He stood right behind the bigmouth. "I'll ask again. Who hired you to watch this baby?"

  "And I said –"

  King slammed the man's face on to the table, heard a crunch as his nose shattered. He lifted the man by his greasy hair and paused. "I'm sorry," King said. "What was that last part?"

  The man wailed and King rolled his eyes. Fucking amateurs.

  "You going to tell me, or do I need to knock out a few teeth?"

  The man shook his head wildly. "No... no, don't!"

  "You want to talk, then?"

  "I can't! I don't know jack! I'm just the wheels man!"

  "So which one of you does know jack?"

  The man indicated with his chin to the guy at the end of the row. "Him!"

  "Thank you for your cooperation," King said. He walked over to the other man now and glared at him. "Talk."

  "Fuck you."

  King sighed. "Moron." He smashed the man's face down twice. "Is that jogging your memory?"

  "This is police brutality!" the idiot howled. "I'm gonna sue your asses!"

  Tank laughed, the sound rolling out of his massive chest. "Fuck, man. We look like cops to you?"

  The men squinted up at the team now.

  "You ain't cops?" said the first one.

  "Not even close," Honey said. "Which means that you got problems, boys. The cops won't come until we call them – and we won't call them until you talk. I should also call your attention to the fact that you've helped kidnap eight babies in four months, so expecting any sympathy from law enforcement is optimistic to the point of foolish."

  They stared at her.

  "And," Tex added. "Shit happens when a bunch of people like us storm a building to rescue a baby. People get beat up, people get shot. Cops won't be too worried about that, so long as you're semi-alive and can show up for your day in court. You savvy?"

  Terrified, the men nodded now and King almost heaved a sigh of relief. They'd tell him who was running this operation and he'd pass it all on to a few cops he trusted and worked with all the time, off the record. They'd do what they had to do to get hard evidence and extract confessions the legal way, the way that actually stood up in court. King's way was effective, but it wasn't the stuff of court cases and his name never came up anywhere. King's Men never got any of the glory – and they were all just fine with that.

  Hell, maybe they'd even find those other missing babies. King strongly suspected they'd been sold to shady adoption agencies and he hoped they were safe with some family. He hated to think how hurt the adoptive parents were going to be... unless they were in on it, of course. But beyond tonight, King wasn't involved. He'd done what he'd been hired to do,and that was find Freddie Karr.

  They heard a siren now and King nodded at Knox. "Take him to the ambulance and go with them to the hospital. Call the parents and have them meet you there."

  "OK." Knox carried Freddie away and King turned back to the men.

  "So." He smiled at them. "Who's talking first?"

  Chapter Four

  Naomi stared at her work laptop in complete, total, utter shock. The bank balance in front of her made not one lick of earthly sense.

  What the fuck?

  She had checked the bank account before leaving work yesterday and it had contained just under seventy thousand dollars, thanks to an art gallery in Colorado Springs sending payment for a few sold items. But now? It stood at just under seventy thousand dollars – plus another million.

  What the actual fuck?

  Naomi picked up the phone and called Ryan Chang, the organization’s accountant. As she waited for his assistant to put her through, she stared out the window at the Rockies, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

  Matt – did you do this?

  There was a click. “Good morning, Naomi.”

  “Hi, Ryan. I’m calling because –”

  “Oh, I know why you’re calling, believe me.”

  “Yeah. Where the hell did this money come from?”

  “I followed up the second I got the e-mail alert and it turns out, it’s an anonymous donation. It was made yesterday through the accounting firm of Silvers and Edelstein, and they refuse to divulge their client’s name.”

  Goddammit, Matt.

  “They can do that?” she said. “Refuse us the name of the donor?”

  “Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

  “And we can still take the money? That much money?”

  “I double-checked with legal this morning and yes, you can. No problem.”

  “Wow.”

  “Congratulations, Naomi. That’s an amazing contribution. You’ll be able to do a lot with that, huh?”

  “Yes.” There were tears in her eyes now. “I would have been able to do everything with it.”

  What a shame I won’t be able to accept it.

  **

  King glanced in the rear view mirror, carefully observing the back seat of the SUV. It was very quiet back there, which wasn’t a big surprise, but the level of emotional tension was.

  Callie and Noah may not have been looking at each other – they were both studiously staring out their respective windows, actually – but their body language interested him. For two adults who had a hard time connecting with others and expressing emotion, they were doing all kinds of silent communicating.

  Well, well. This is intriguing.

  He pulled up in front of the Art With Heart Center. Despite his exhaustion from
being at the hospital with Freddie's parents all night, he felt a bubble of excitement in his stomach. He hoped, with everything that he had, that Naomi was there now. After last night's ugliness and the stress of the past week, he needed to lay eyes on something bright and beautiful – even just from across the room and even just for a few seconds. That’d hold him for the day.

  The three of them went in. Callie and Noah hung up their coats in the closet area, changed out of their outdoor boots. Callie gave King a peck on the cheek and scuttled away, and Noah watched her go.

  “Noah?”

  Noah’s blue eyes jerked back to King’s face. “King?”

  “You ready to get to painting, man?”

  “Yes. I have my own workspace, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re lucky.”

  “Want to see?”

  “I do. Show me.”

  They walked in to the massive open space area, and King was relieved when every single staff member nodded at Noah and greeted him by name. Noah didn’t really respond – he had reverted to his old habit of clenching his hands over and over and avoiding eye contact – and King felt worry move in his chest. He hadn’t seen Noah this unnerved in a while, and he hoped that the younger man would be OK.

  Noah led him over to the far corner, next to a massive arched window. King watched as Noah took off his backpack and set it on a stool.

  “My workspace.” Noah sounded proud and goddamn, he should be. Just by standing there, he’d blown most every expectation that every health care professional had ever laid down on him. Sarah and her mother Annie had worked their asses off for years to help Noah be more flexible with changes in routine, and now the result was standing in front of King.

  Noah was in a brand new place, surrounded by brand new people – and Sarah was nowhere in sight. Noah had insisted on doing this himself and although his twin sister had tied herself up in knots about it, she’d agreed in the end. This whole thing was, after all, about Noah’s increasing independence, and he had to start sometime.

  King thought about what Annie had said this morning, when King had picked Noah up at his house. Noah had been packing his backpack with his beloved baseball cards, Sudoku puzzles, pencils and juicebox, and Annie had stood there wringing her hands.