Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 2) by James Marysol

Author:James, Marysol [James, Marysol]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, sex, Contemporary, Fiction, Women's Fiction
Published: 2015-01-22T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“So am I allowed to ask about your work?” Naomi said cautiously. “Or is the whole topic of King’s Men off-limits?”

“Nothing’s off-limits,” King said. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know – so long as it doesn’t put any of my people in danger or breach client confidentiality.”

“OK.” She thought for a minute. “I’ve heard stuff about the group… rumors.”

“Yeah, me too.” King took a sip of his coffee. “Ask, honey.”

“Uh. Hmmm. Where to begin?” Her dark eyes were considering. “How did you end up running the group? Are you ex-military?”

“Kind of. Not like my team – they’re mostly hardcore ex-SEALs and -Marines and so on. I wasn’t anything like that elite. I was a paratrooper.”

Naomi cocked her head. “A what?”

“I was dropped by air in to some hot zones, usually to help with military extraction and support. My background and training was the Marines, but I was never part of an ops unit. I just parachuted in where they needed me, gave a hand, and moved on.”

“Which hot zones?”

“Iraq, mostly. One tour in Afghanistan, but it wasn’t a full tour. I was discharged on medical grounds.”

“You were shot?” Naomi felt her chest tighten.

“Nope.” He grinned at her. “Blew my knee out.”

She paused. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Jumping’s hard on the body – wrecks your knees and back, and at my height and weight, it was just a matter of time before it happened.” He shrugged. “I came back to Denver, took my college education paid for by the army. Went to law school, actually.”

She choked on her waffle. “You what?”

“Yep. You’re having fancy brunch with a lawyer, darlin’.”

She stared across the table at Matt, took in his tattooed forearms and the heavy silver rings on his thick fingers. He had dressed up a bit for their brunch and was wearing jeans and a blue dress shirt; yet again, she was getting tempting little glimpses of that astounding chest. She tried to imagine all that ferocious strength in a law office and utterly failed. Matt’s body was built for warzones, not courtrooms; for hauling injured men over his shoulder, not carrying a briefcase.

“Huh,” she said. “I totally did not see that coming.”

“Nobody does. I like to drop it in to casual conversation and watch people freak out.”

She laughed. “So why don’t you do that anymore?”

“Oh, I barely lasted two years before I quit. I hated it.”

“Why?”

“I was a prosecuting attorney and I got really tired of watching bad people walk away on technicalities and wriggle through loop holes. If a cop fucked up something on the paperwork, or some witness was deemed unreliable, then everything just fell apart. I mean, look at Sarah, right? Beaten almost to death in her own house, and her ex gets ten months. It’s legal but it’s not anything remotely resembling justice.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“So I ran for the door and started my own company. I hired a few ex-military types to work freelance, and I kept an eye on the legalities. My law background has come in awfully handy on more than one occasion, I can tell you.

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