“A man was in the car. Apparently he had pulled over and passed out,” Torrance said, not looking up but staring at his notebook. “There wasn’t any identification on the man, but the reports state he was covered with blood.”
“Oh my God,” London gasped, covering her hands over her mouth.
Haley was around the table, putting her arms around London. “Where is he now? Do you have pictures? I can identify my son.”
Detective Murray leaned back, reaching inside his suit and pulling out a manila folder. London had a flashback to the large envelopes that were delivered to her house with pictures of her parents in them as she stared at the envelope in the detective’s hand.
“I need to warn you,” Detective Murray said, his voice very soft-spoken as he glanced from Haley to London.
“You might be surprised at some of the pictures I’ve seen,” Haley assured him, stepping forward. “Not to mention what I’ve seen in real life.”
“It’s often different when you’re staring at someone you know,” Detective Torrance said.
“Or someone you’re related to,” Murray added.
“Show me the pictures.” The sudden stern edge in Haley’s voice was enough.
Detective Murray slid eight-by-tens out of the envelope. These weren’t glossy, colored shots. They were black and white and looked as if they’d been faxed or sent via the computer somehow. They were printed on regular typing paper.
Haley blocked London’s view. Either intentional or not, London wasn’t sure. But Haley picked up one of the shots, then another. After staring at them for only a moment, she dropped them on the table, letting them fall as she almost ran to the bathroom, yelling for her husband.
“Greg! Greg!” she demanded, opening the door and flying into the bathroom. She was out of view but easily heard. “They’ve found Marc. Get out here. They know where he is.”
Greg King appeared immediately, his tall, large frame filling the bathroom doorway before he stepped into the hotel room, giving each detective an intense once-over before moving toward them. He wore dark blue new-looking jeans, probably the pair Haley had bought for him before returning from the hospital. He still held a white towel, and water beaded across his bare chest as he approached, barefoot and solemn.
“Detectives,” he said quietly, using the towel to dry his hand and then extending it to shake hands with both men.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. King.” Detective Torrance was probably a good ten years older than Greg but seemed in awe when the large man shook his hand. “I regret it’s under such circumstances.”
After shaking hands with both detectives, Greg picked up one of the pictures Haley had tossed on the table. He looked at it for a second, his expression hardening as he stared over it at the detectives.
“Is my boy alive?” he demanded.
“He’s been flown to Phoenix Baptist Hospital,” Torrance said, once again looking at his notebook. “The car was about twenty miles outside of Phoenix.”
“What would he have been doing down there?” Haley asked, although she didn’t direct the question at anyone.
“He was headed north. If he’s your son, it appears he might have been taken down there and was trying to come back here.”
London listened to the detectives and the Kings speculate. It was obvious both detectives had heard of Greg King and treated him with a reverence that showed his reputation had preceded him. London was impressed and watched as Greg spoke with them, slipping into their language and using a lot of slang whose meaning she wasn’t sure of. She remembered Marc telling her his father had been a cop for years before becoming a bounty hunter. Maybe he did what many cops dreamed of doing. Something told her the detectives came to the hotel with this new information as quickly as they did because they suspected they’d found Greg King’s son. She’d always heard law enforcement took care of their own, treating them better than they would anyone else reporting a crime. Whether there was truth to that or not, the detectives listened and didn’t interrupt when Greg shared his opinion of the underground facility, their abductions, and everything they’d learned so far. The detectives didn’t deny his accusation when he predicted this investigation would be shelved before they had all their answers.
London stayed out of the conversation, not having anything to say and still so very new to being included among the good guys. She’d had a lifetime of listening to criminals plot and scheme. Hearing the detectives and bounty hunters plot and predict outcomes didn’t seem all that different from hearing it from the other side.
No one paid attention to her when she stepped up to the table and glanced down at the pictures. She didn’t pick them up at first but took her time looking at the first picture that was facing her on the table. Although printed and not an original, the image of a man sitting in a small car, his head reclined against the back of the seat and one hand resting on the steering wheel, was clear enough to pick up on details.
London grabbed the second picture, staring at it up close before she realized she’d picked it up. Someone had leaned into the car, placing the camera in front of the man to take the picture. She stared at Marc, his eyes closed and his head tilted with his mouth opened. He looked like he was sleeping. There were dark smudges going down his cheek, but it didn’t look as if he’d been beaten.
The picture of him taken from outside the car, with the door opened, was more revealing. They’d taken the pictures with the morning sun behind them, making it easy to see details in spite of the picture being black and white and a copy. The dark stain covering the front of Marc’s shirt and sleeve looked like it could be dried blood. He’d been driving back here, possibly having escaped from Evelyn VanCooper, or whoever took him from the underground facility. He was injured and the pain had overtaken him until he’d pulled over and apparently passed out.
London looked up when something one of the detectives said grabbed her attention.
“I’ll head down there. I can leave right now. How far are we from Phoenix?”
*
It was awkward riding for over two hours to Phoenix with Greg and Haley King. After London had been watching how the detectives treated Greg, he seemed almost larger than life to her. She reminded herself more than once that he was just a man. He’d been a cop, had probably done well with his career, and now was a bit more glamorous leading the life of the bounty hunter. But he was just a man. And she’d never done anything to make herself less than his equal.
In spite of her private lectures, it was still hard driving in Marc’s car with Greg and Haley, sitting in the backseat and for the most part not being part of their conversation. Although after they’d been on the road a bit, the three of them drove in silence. Jake had grumbled a bit about not going but resigned himself to the fact that crashing for the day while his family drove to and from Phoenix would make him rested when the rest of them returned exhausted.
London was feeling the weight of a rough couple of days as she followed the Kings into the Phoenix hospital later that afternoon. Her eyes burned and her muscles ached when they walked down the large hallway and breathed in the familiar hospital smell.
“It’s about goddamn time you two got here.” Marc turned from where he stood, staring out a window, and looked more relieved than grouchy when his parents walked up to him. “I’ve been climbing the walls. Do you know how hard it is to exist in this world when you don’t have ID? They wouldn’t release me.”
“Marc!” Haley ignored every word he said, hurrying into him and wrapping her arms around her son. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“Hi, Mom.” Marc hugged his mother, his tone softening drastically when he buried his head on top of hers for a moment. They whispered to each other while Greg stood facing the two of them, seemingly content to give the two of them their moment without intruding. When Marc lifted his head, looking at his father, his expression was hard and focused. “Did they find her? No one here would tell me a fucking thing.”
�
��Find who?” Greg asked.
“Evelyn VanCooper,” Marc said.
London was growing used to being on the outside of the conversation with this family and stood quietly, just inside the doorway, glancing at another patient Marc shared his room with, who was sleeping on his side with a curtain pulled halfway the length of the room, giving a bit of privacy.
“She took you from the underground prison?” Greg asked, and lowered his voice, which made him sound harsh and cold. “That pompous weasel, Claude, is her husband.”
“I know.” Marc shifted his weight and moved his mother to one side of him.
Greg didn’t comment on how his son appeared to be nursing his left side. “Claude spilled his guts to the cops but didn’t indicate he knew where she was. Thanks to our London here, it’s not too surprising he doesn’t handle pain as well as he dishes it out. She shot him and he’s been singing like a canary ever since. There were a few topics, though, he got real closemouthed about. One of them being his wife. I can’t help but think he really doesn’t know a lot about her affairs. If you hadn’t pulled over on the interstate we might not have found you as soon as we did.”
Marc seemed to notice London for the first time when his father mentioned her. He let go of his mother, moving around his parents. Marc wasn’t in the same clothes he’d been in when they had thought they were leaving the motel to check out Canyon Diablo.
The black pants and shirt he wore made him look even more dangerous. They fitted him perfectly. Whoever had provided his outfit had shopped specifically for him. Marc’s height and incredibly muscular physique would make it hard to pick clothes up for him just anywhere. Haley had shown her excitement over finding a clothing store suited for her men. Marc’s captor would have had to do the same thing. The VanCoopers had singled Marc and his family out and had made all preparations to keep them prisoners.
When she caught a glimpse of a bandage barely visible at the edge of his collar, she started to reach for it. Something in the way he looked at her made her hesitate. Marc offered a small, polite smile and touched her cheek with his fingertips before dropping his hand to his side.
“You came with my parents,” he said, almost whispering as he smiled down at her. “It’s good to see you.”
He turned before she could respond, once again speaking to his parents. “Where’s Jake? Is he okay? And Natasha?”
“Everyone’s fine,” Haley said, hurrying back to her son’s side. She was glowing with happiness, but then she had a wonderful family and now had them all back together. “Let’s get you discharged and get out of here.”
“Best thing I’ve heard all day,” Marc said, hugging his mother as he kept her on his good side.
The men sat up front and Haley and London in the back on the drive back to Flagstaff. Haley leaned forward, resting her hand on her husband’s shoulder while talking to him and Marc. London could have done the same, making herself part of the conversation, but Marc’s rather formal greeting when he saw her confused her. Greg and Haley had welcomed London into their world on the assumption that she was seeing their son. What would they think of her now when Marc was barely giving her any attention?
Worse yet, there was no backing away from them so she could be alone. They all stayed together when they returned to the hotel, rehashing the events each of them had endured. Even when they traveled to the hospital to see Natasha, a shuttle was provided, so they could all ride together. Marc told Natasha how he’d yanked capsules out from under his skin near his armpit, and although it was now the third time London had heard the story, it still made her sick.
“Where are the capsules now?” Natasha asked. She looked pale and her pretty long black hair was stringy as it fanned around her on her hospital pillow. “If they really were what Evelyn said they were, we could run tests on them and possibly learn what this drug is that she was using on everyone.”
“Everyone but Marc.” Jake sneered at his brother. “The woman was obviously insane if she had the hots for you and not me.”
“You can have her,” Marc grunted as his father punched Jake in his noninjured arm. “And the last I saw them, the capsules and fingernail clippers were in a small glass I took from the hotel room. I wrapped the glass in plastic and had it in the passenger seat of the car I was driving back up here.”
“God only knows where that glass is now,” Haley said, leaning on her fist as her gaze shifted from one of them to the other.
“My guess is the car would have been impounded. I’ll contact Torrance and Murray and see if they can help us narrow down which wrecker service would have picked up the car.” Greg stood at the end of the bed, his thick arms crossed over his large chest.
“Who are Torrance and Murray?” Natasha asked, and pulled her hand that had the IV in it out from under her blankets to cover her mouth when she yawned.
“Your cousin might have mad scientists who have the hots for him,” Haley offered, causing Jake to snicker. “But your uncle has detectives drooling over him.”
Everyone laughed and the conversation lightened after that. London was even pulled into their easy bantering until it became obvious Natasha was exhausted. They each took turns hugging her, with promises to return first thing in the morning, when they hoped they would be able to arrange to have her transferred to an L.A. hospital so they could all go home. No one suggested any of them leave without all of them heading home together.
It was an odd feeling and one London enjoyed as well as disliked. Marc’s family was tight, all of them so open with one another and relaxed in one another’s company. In a world where she’d never had a best friend, let alone another person who knew that much about her, spending the entire day with the King family left her overwhelmed.
“Should we eat in the restaurant or order up for room service?” Haley asked when they all stood close to one another on the elevator ride up to their rooms.
“I think London and I are going to bow out on dinner,” Marc said, not even looking at her when they stepped into the hallway and started to their rooms. “We’ll catch a bite on our own.”
Jake was the only one to glance from her to Marc. “I’ll head into Mom and Dad’s room,” he offered, winking at London but then turning his back to her when he stopped behind his parents at their room.
The three of them disappeared into the hotel room across from London’s and she pulled out the card key. Marc took it from her and opened the door, holding it with his good hand so she could enter ahead of him. Suddenly she was incredibly nervous.
Marc let the door close behind him and grabbed London’s jaw, walking into her and backing her up against the wall as his mouth captured hers. It wasn’t a soft, hesitant kiss. The unleashed hunger, aggression, and possessive way in which he devoured her mouth left no doubts why he wanted to be alone with her.
He pressed his body against hers, keeping her pinned where she was, and deepened the kiss. Raw, untamed hunger roared to life between them. All uncertainty, hesitation, and worries dissipated in moments when passion ignited and burned furiously inside her.
London wrapped her hand around his waist, running her fingers over solid, hard-as-steel muscle, and ached to touch him everywhere. She didn’t understand his reserved nature earlier, but his behavior right now was very clear. Marc made a feast of her mouth, making it clear his intentions and that stopping to discuss them wouldn’t be an option.
Not that she could think of a word to say. Pressure spread throughout her insides. She was immediately soaked. Her pussy pulsed and swelled, anxious for him to touch her there and fill her with his swollen cock. She could feel it growing between them, pulsing and jerking against her hip.
When Marc finally released her from the wall, it was to pull her along with him to the bed. He didn’t speak but stared into her eyes with blue orbs the color of a dark sky before a thunderstorm erupted and exploded. In a way, that was exactly how it was. There was a storm building between them. Any moment it would release its wild and torrential p
assion and knowing that moment was close stole London’s breath. She couldn’t look away from him when he yanked on her shirt, dragging her to the bed.
All day he’d gingerly used his left side. London was very careful not to touch him anywhere near his injury, since it obviously seemed to be bothering him. There was no sign now that any part of him wasn’t in perfect working order, however.
“God, woman,” he growled, his voice rough as he almost ripped her shirt off her.
She willingly lifted her arms when he undressed her, his hands all over her and almost rough when he unzipped her jeans and dragged them down her legs. When she lost her balance, Marc pushed her backward, causing her to fall on the bed.
“You have no clue,” he rumbled, every word thick with emotion.
London slipped out of her bra, sensing if she let him remove her underwear she might not be able to wear it again. “Clue about what?” she asked, leaning back on her elbows, completely naked and staring up at him.
Marc’s expression was dark, intense, and so incredibly sexy as he stared down at her, not answering her right away but instead taking his time letting his gaze travel down her body. Her flesh sizzled. It was the worst kind of torture. He stood over her, adoring her, while need ransacked every inch of her body until she wanted to leap at him and demand he fuck her.
“I missed you,” he said simply, and started removing his shirt.
London couldn’t remain on the bed any longer. She felt as if she jumped to her knees like some eager child, unwilling to wait any longer before unwrapping her present. As anxious as she was, when she touched him she wasn’t rough as he was with her.
The moment her fingers brushed along his waist his gaze sharpened. Marc stilled when she slowly lifted his shirt. The way he looked at her would make her melt, turning her into a puddle at his feet. No one had ever made her feel so beautiful, so incredibly wanted, as he did.
Get Lucky Page 32
