Kingston's Captive (Kingston Security 2), page 2
Adam wanted to hit something. Or someone. Whatever it took to erase the shadows of fear he could see in Cara’s beautiful blue-green eyes.
The same eyes and beautiful face he’d seen in his dreams every damn night for the past year since he’d attended the art exhibition where some of Cara’s paintings were being shown and he’d seen her for the first time again in ten years.
Cara had been a bewildered fourteen-year-old girl when he and the rest of his Special Forces team had helped rescue her from kidnappers, along with her twelve-year-old sister, Rosie. They had arrived too late to save the girls’ mother, Claudia Ferrari-Smythe.
Adam and Max had kept an eye on the two girls for a few months after they were returned to their father, but had ceased that surveillance once both girls were recovered enough from their ordeal to return to boarding school. Consequently, Adam hadn’t seen Cara again until a year ago, when he’d attended the art exhibition.
Well…if Adam was being completely honest, he didn’t usually go to art exhibitions. He’d gone to that particular one because he’d seen it advertised in the newspaper, along with the names of the artists whose work was being shown.
He’d been curious to know if the artist listed simply as CaraFlora, was, in fact, the same CaraFlora Ferrari-Smythe he’d met all those years ago.
Not only was she the same CaraFlora, but at twenty-four, she was also the most beautiful woman Adam had ever set eyes on.
She was still a tiny little thing, only a couple of inches over five feet tall, with a slender figure. Her long hair was deep auburn, her face pale and delicate. Her eyes were unusual, in that they were sometimes blue and sometimes green, and other times a combination of the two. Her nose was small and pert, her cheeks smooth, and her lips a beautiful bow shape.
Since seeing Cara again that night and appreciating what a beautiful woman she’d become, Adam hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.
He’d also fantasized more than once about having the grown-up Cara on her knees in front of him, her auburn hair wrapped about his hand as he held her head in place to keep those pouting lips wrapped around his cock.
Damn it, he’d fantasized about doing a lot more than that with and to her!
As if a beautiful and obviously accomplished woman like Cara would ever look at someone like him.
Adam made no apologies for the fact he was a product of having been orphaned at the age of ten and taken in by his aunt and uncle to be brought up with his six male cousins. They’d all had the same private education, and attended university, and attained decent degrees, but seven boys, then seven teenagers developing into grown men, had meant there’d been some serious fights amongst them. But those same six cousins were Adam’s closest friends, ones he knew he could call upon and rely on in any situation.
Adam’s years in the military had resulted in a kill-or-be-killed instinct, and he had the physical scars to prove it.
Merely looking at his scarred and tattooed body was probably enough to give Cara nightmares, along with the fact his very existence was a reminder of the murder of her mother. A traumatic past Cara would no doubt rather not be reminded of every time she saw him.
There were just too many levels on which Adam was not what a beautiful and accomplished woman like Cara was looking for in the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life or to have children with.
He shrugged off thoughts of what he already knew. “You know damn well you can’t just drive off to God knows where.”
Her jaw clenched. “I refuse to let that man make me continue to live like a prisoner in my own home. Bad enough it’s been like that for me this past week, too afraid to go outside or to meet family or friends.” Tears glistened in those beautiful blue-green eyes. “I want my life back.”
Since seeing Cara again a year ago, Adam had been keeping a cursory eye on her. Nothing stalkerish, just the occasional drop into a gallery where her paintings were being shown or a walk by her apartment.
She didn’t appear to have a great many friends, the closest one being her sister, Rosie, but Cara lived as full and happy a life as she seemed comfortable with.
Her relationship with her father had never been a close one, and it seemed to have deteriorated even more since the kidnapping ten years ago.
Adam hadn’t liked it when a few months ago, Cara started dating James Langley, the guy who owned the gallery where the next exhibition of her paintings was going to take place. Unfortunately, because Cara had no idea of Adam’s interest, he’d had no choice but to grit his teeth and accept it.
Because he knew Langley was everything Adam wasn’t.
The other man was blond haired and blue eyed. The bespoke suits he always wore were perfectly tailored to his slender but lithe build. As were the shirts he wore beneath them, the matching ties obviously silk. Nor was there a single piece of ink visible on the other man’s body.
Adam knew he couldn’t compete with that sophistication. Because he wasn’t just rough around the edges—his toughness went all the way through.
After he and Max left the military, they and the rest of Max’s brothers had decided to pool their skills and form their own company, Kingston Security. For the most part, it operated as a legitimate company, specializing in personal and business security.
But beneath that, there was another layer, one less legal and run by Sinclair, the eldest of Adam’s cousins. The cases Sinclair focused on were based solely on finding the people who had walked free after ruining someone else’s life. Or worse, taking it away completely.
For personal reasons, Sinclair was on a mission to hunt down the people responsible for any kidnappings or abductions that had fatal consequences, ensuring the people responsible paid for their crimes.
Sinclair hadn’t been involved ten years ago in the death of James Langley’s father, the bratva pakhan, Kirill Bortkov, and the man who had ordered the abduction of the three Ferrari-Smythe females. But five years ago, Sinclair had ensured the two men still alive who had carried out the kidnapping of the Ferrari-Smythe women would never kidnap or hurt another woman. Ever.
In the same way, Adam and his cousins had been on twenty-four-hour rotation this past week to protect Cara and Rosie. Langley might be in custody, but his accomplices weren’t.
They’d been hoping the protection wouldn’t be necessary for too much longer, that once Langley was formally charged, the men who worked for him would cut their losses and go off to find another criminal to work for.
With the proviso that if those men decided not to take that route, Adam and his cousins would ensure they disappeared.
Nope, Adam acknowledged, he wasn’t civilized in the slightest!
Nor, after the decision in court today allowing Langley back on the streets, was Cara going to “get her life back” anytime soon.
If it was left to Adam, he would simply have made the man disappear. But, several of his cousins had reasoned, that was exactly the sort of move Langley was hoping one of them would make, and by doing so confirm all the accusations he’d made against them.
“I know this past week, after being kidnapped a second time, has been difficult for you.” Adam kept his voice calm and even. “But we know Langley has men working for him because he knew our every move when we were looking for you— What the fuck are you laughing at?” His concern increased as Cara continued to laugh until there were tears falling down her cheeks and the laughter turned to a sob. “Fuck. Cara.” He wrapped his arms about her and held her tightly against him.
He couldn’t resist closing his eyes and enjoying these few seconds of being in heaven. Usually, Cara was so damned prickly, he didn’t dare get too close to her.
She felt small and soft in his arms. Her hair, where her head rested beneath his chin, was like spun silk against the roughness of his scruff, and he felt slightly heady from breathing in her perfume of something floral and a totally feminine spice.
Adam bit back a groan when Cara put her arms about his waist and rested her cheek against his chest.
She gave a humorless choking sound. “I was laughing because how many people get kidnapped a first time, let alone a second?”
She had a point. But it wasn’t one that caused Adam any mirth. Nor, in this case, was the second kidnapping unusual when those two kidnappings were connected by the father and the son.
The difference was that Cara had been a teenager on the brink of womanhood ten years ago. This time around, she was most definitely a grown woman. Moreover, one who had no intention of taking any bullshit from anyone, least of all the son of the man responsible for the previous kidnapping and her mother’s death.
Cara had been numb with grief ten years ago. But with Langley Cara had fought back spectacularly, to the extent she had been completely in charge of the situation by the time they arrived to rescue her.
The judge’s decision today to release Langley on bail had been a blow none of them were expecting.
“You need to pack a bag,” Adam bit out.
Cara tensed, pulling back enough to look up at him. “Why?”
“You’ll be staying at my place tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll make other arrangements.” For now, he just wanted her somewhere safe, and preferably with him.
“I don’t think so,” she scoffed, pulling out of his arms and stepping back. “This is my home, and no one, especially Bortkov’s son, is going to make me leave it.”
“You were leaving when I arrived.”
“But I was coming back.”
“Were you?”
“I’m not going with you,” she stated flatly.
“Cara—”
“Adam.”
God save him from stubborn women. “Remember that I asked nicely and suggested you pack a bag,” he warned as he bent slightly and placed his arm about the backs of her thighs to lifted her, fireman fashion, over his shoulder.
“Adam!” Cara protested loudly as she now dangled head down over his shoulder.
He turned to unlock and open the door, pausing to check there were no reporters outside, before stepping forward.
He only had time to quickly turn sideways and ensure Cara wasn’t a visible target when he heard the lethal sound of a gun being fired.
CHAPTER THREE
It might be ten years since Cara last heard that ominous whistling sound, but she still recognized it as being a bullet coming out the barrel of a gun.
Adam obviously recognized it too, because he lost no time in tightening his arm about the backs of her thighs prior to running to the low black car parked next the pavement.
Adam wrenched open the passenger door and threw her none too gently inside. “Do up your seat belt,” he instructed harshly before shutting her in and running round to the driver’s side of what Cara, and everyone else on the planet, would recognize as a Lamborghini.
She’d previously only seen him behind the wheel of one of the black SUVs that had been parked outside her house this past week, the men inside keeping a protective watch over her.
Cara heard another couple of shots being fired as Adam opened his door and quickly slid into the seat beside her.
He gave her a brief glance as he turned on the engine, his expression grim. “Do up your fucking seat belt,” he repeated impatiently as he put the car in gear and pressed his booted foot down hard on the accelerator.
Cara didn’t find that easy to do when the speed of the car was pressing her back against the leather seat. She eventually managed to click the seat belt into place. Just as well, because Adam wasn’t letting up on the speed in the least as he steered the car down half a dozen winding side streets, all the time glancing in the rearview mirror to see if they were being followed.
Cara gave a couple of glances back herself, and for the same reason. She couldn’t see any vehicles close behind them or speeding to catch up with them, so hopefully they had managed to get away from whoever had shot at them.
Under the circumstances, it really wasn’t the time for Cara to admire the sleek interior of the Lamborghini. But there was no ignoring the smell of expensive black leather or the impressive array of dials on the dashboard that probably rivaled the technology inside a spaceship.
She’d known the Kingston family was wealthy, of course, but this car was something else. “We’re going to have an accident if you don’t slow down,” she warned when Adam veered the car sharply to the right to avoid hitting several of the tall plastic bins at the back of one of the buildings on the narrow alley they were currently driving down. “Adam?” she prompted sharply, turning in the seat to look at him when she received no answer. Her eyes widened when she saw how pale his face was. “Oh dear God, have you been hit?”
“It’s only a scratch,” he dismissed.
Cara didn’t think so. His expression was grim and there was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead.
She moved her assessing gaze over his chest, stomach, and legs. She couldn’t see any visible bullet wounds, but then blood wouldn’t be instantly visible on his black clothing, and there was no denying how pale he was. He also, she realized, seemed to be sitting slightly sideways in the seat, favoring his right side. She leaned across the console with the intention of pushing aside his leather jacket.
“Leave it,” he bit out.
“But—”
“I said fucking leave it!” he snarled.
Cara recoiled back against her seat at his impatient aggression. “You’ve been shot.” She wasn’t sure if it was a question or an accusation. Or whether it really mattered which, if it was true.
“It’s nothing,” he dismissed again.
It was true. “You’ve gone pale and you’re sweating, both signs that you could go into shock at any moment—”
“Cara, I’ve been tortured by experts, shot half a dozen times, attacked and cut with knives, and blown up by an IED—twice—all without any of those injuries sending me into shock. I doubt this little scratch is going to do it either,” he scorned.
Cara recoiled at the violence Adam spoke of so dismissively, hating to think of him having suffered through the pain of all those injuries.
He’d been tortured, for God’s sake. Blown up. Attacked with guns and knives. No wonder he had so many scars on his body.
And maybe he was right and he wasn’t going to go into shock this time either, but he was certainly losing enough blood from somewhere to have caused that sudden pallor to his face.
“I’m sorry—”
“The last thing I need is your pity,” he bit out harshly.
She flinched as if he’d struck her. “I was only going to say I’m sorry that this time you’ve been hurt protecting me,” she stated firmly. “As for the rest of it, you knew what the risks were when you decided to join the military.”
* * *
Adam gave her a brief, admiring glance. “That’s my ballsy girl.”
“I’m not yours, and I’m not a girl,” Cara snapped.
He sobered. “You’re a girl compared to me.”
She snorted. “You’re fifteen years older than me, not fifty! Besides, Max is seventeen years older than Rosie, and he doesn’t seem in the least bothered by it.”
“He was in the beginning, thought he was not only too old for her, but had seen too much of the horror in the world to be with someone as innocent as Rosie,” Adam told her. “He got over it pretty quickly once Rosie had convinced him of what an idiot he was being.”
“Then you should get over it, because you’re behaving like an idiot too.”
Adam wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that.
Nor was this the time to think about it, because Cara was right, he’d been shot.
He had felt the bullet pierce his side after placing her inside the car and straightening to go round to the driver’s side. He was pretty sure it was a through and through because the front and back of his T-shirt were soaking through with blood beneath his leather jacket. Blood he was pretty sure he was losing too quickly to remain compos mentis enough for the hour it would take for him to drive to Kingston Manor.
After having someone—no doubt Langley’s men—shoot at them in the street in broad daylight, Adam didn’t believe London, even his penthouse apartment, was secure enough to keep Cara completely safe.
The estate had high-tech security inside and out, as well as guards and his two Rottweilers patrolling the grounds. That level of security might seem like overkill to some people, but the work Kingston Security did had been known to piss off the not very nice people they hunted down. The level of security at the estate was certainly going to be useful in this situation.
Adam reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket to take out his cell phone and put it in the hands-free holder to make a call.
“What do you need?” Sinclair answered economically. The number Adam had called was the one they all used in an emergency.
Adam sensed the intensity of Cara’s gaze on him as he related the situation to his eldest cousin.
“Cara, can you drive the Lamborghini?” Sinclair asked as soon as Adam had finished talking.
“I… Yes, I guess so,” she confirmed slowly, her eyes widening as she looked at that array of dials in front of her. “Take away the fact the car is so low, we’re almost sitting on the tarmac, the control panel is so high-tech it belongs in something taking off for the moon, that the speed indicator says the car can be driven at over two hundred miles an hour, then otherwise, it’s pretty much like driving the Mini Cooper I used to own when I was at university.”
“Adam, I need you to pull the car over to the side of the road now,” Sinclair instructed rather than respond to Cara’s sarcasm. “The two of you need to swap seats, and Cara will take over for the rest of the drive to Kingston Manor. We’re still at the courthouse, but we’re leaving now and will join the two of you back at the estate shortly.”
Several members of the Kingston family had been present in the courtroom today, the four men who had been with Rosie when she came looking for Cara, at least. Sinclair was one of them, along with Casper, Max, and Adam. Rosie was still there with Max.
