Chapter Six

“OK, well, let’s get a few things straight, huh?” he snapped.

Naomi felt misery start to spread through her at the tone in his voice. He was angry now, and this was a big trigger for her… she hated when people were angry at her. She was bad at confrontation and worse at sticking to her guns, even when she thought she should.

Don’t you dare apologize. You don’t have to fight him, or convince him of anything. Just say your piece and get out and call Mirrie. After that, you never have to see him again.

“I don’t see the need for that, but if you do, go ahead.” She leaned back in her chair, trying to look in control. “I’m listening.”

“First, like the garage, my other business is totally legal. I accept private contracts, I hire freelance employees, I file taxes, I voluntarily get audited every year. Like you, I account for every penny that I earn and spend, so it’s all above-board and no question about that. It’s not like I’m running around the country accepting bags of cash in back alleys from guys in ski masks. You get me?”

She didn’t respond. She was too busy thinking about making a break for it.

“Next. My employees are highly-trained and specialized, and they do what nobody else can do. They walk into life-and-death situations on almost every op, and they do so because they want to get bad guys. That’s it. They track down criminals on the run, and they rescue kidnap victims, and they bust up drug rings, and they extract sex slaves from lives of utter misery. They’re violent when they have to be. They kill when they have to. But we’re not the bad guys. We clear?”

Naomi shrank back in her chair, terrified of his anger. He had to have at least a hundred pounds on her, and he was pure muscle. The urge to make a run for the door began to grow.

King studied her, took in her fear. He softened his tone. “Naomi. There’s lots of talk about what happens when I meet my people in the backroom of my garage. I know that. And to be honest with you, most of what my people do is not nice. It’s – it’s dirty and dangerous. Ugly, sometimes, and yeah, we walk the line between legal and not-so-much. But some situations out there call for people who can do this kind of thing.”

She looked away from his intense stare, and he suddenly realized that he actually cared very much what she thought about him. This was a new experience for him, and he tried to get his focus back.

“What I’m saying is, don’t get the wrong idea about me, OK?”

“OK. Thanks for clearing that up.” She stood up now. “So, take care.”

“Wait.” King stood up too. “That’s it? You just leave?”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “I mean… your business is still something my organization can’t be linked to. That hasn’t changed.”

“Well, what if I made a private donation? Like, anonymously?”

She paused. “Mr. Kingston –”

“King.”

“Mr. Kingston. I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on this point.”

“Because of Callie, partly, and because of Noah. But also, because I did a bit of research into you, too.”

Right away, Naomi tensed up completely. What had he found out? If his people were super spies or whatever, they’d have no trouble finding out things about her… including her alcoholism.

“And?” Thank God her voice was cool, distant, unconcerned. “What did you find out?”

King indicated to her recently-vacated chair. “Please.”

She sat again, her hand clenched so hard around her coin that she felt her nails cutting into her palm.

He sat too. “You graduated with honors from the Fine Arts Program at the University of Colorado. You had lots of success as a painter, had several sold-out exhibitions. You then took some time off and started working with autistic adults – art therapy, art workshops, that kind of thing. From what I understand, you were disturbed that the workshops were nothing more than glorified babysitting services for autistic people.”

She blinked at him.

“You started to make arguments that artistic talent should be paid, full stop, and if an artist’s work was good enough to compete on the market, then it could and should be sold. You went around to art galleries all over the state, and showed the work from the workshops – and you created interest and demand. You sold the art for fair prices, cut the artists in on the profits. From there, you developed a business model.”

“I – how did you find out all of this about me?”