Beauty and the Billionaire Bachelors

I stared at the phone when Hunter came bounding down the stairs.

“Can we make that popcorn strand you told me about?”

“Sure. Sure we can.” I tossed my phone on the table. “And we can put on a Christmas movie. How does that sound?”

I made my way to the kitchen and started on the popcorn. I had no idea where Hawk was and I didn’t like the feeling in my stomach one bit. I felt nauseated again, and my head suddenly felt fuzzy. It was too much stress. Too much worry. But I had to power through. For Hunter.

39

Kane

The woman who sat across from me in the din

er kept picking at the stuffing coming out of the booth.

“Coffee?” I offered.

She looked over her shoulder at the waitress approaching the table.

“Yes, I’d like a cup.”

I nodded to the waitress to bring us two cups.

“So, tell me Ms. Martin. Why did you make up this story?”

I wasn’t the kind of man to hold back my emotions or my thoughts. I knew when someone was conning me. And this woman wasn’t taking my son from me.

She slammed her fist on the table and hissed, “My son was kidnapped. I didn’t make it up.”

“Yeah, that part of your story checks out. But why do you think it’s my son? Why did you contact DC police last night? Hunter has been in the system for three years. There is no record of anyone ever trying to contact him, meet him, reach out to him. Nothing.” I glared at her.

She pulled the wool cap over her forehead. “How was I supposed to know he was in DC?”

She had met me on I-95, just south of Fredericksburg. I was surprised no one had spotted me yet.

I leaned back, crossing my arms. I didn’t buy it. None of it. “You’re not that far away. Tell me what it is you want.”

“I want my child,” she seethed.

“Hunter isn’t yours,” I countered.

If Julie knew I was here, she would kill me. But I had to get to the bottom of this myself. The investigator had reluctantly given me the mother’s name: Martha Martin. The rest I did myself with a little web search.

“You don’t know that.” She wasn’t backing down.

We waited while the coffee was served until we resumed our argument. “I know that kid has had a shitty life. He’s been in and out of foster homes. He didn’t have clothes. He wasn’t eating. Shit, he barely spoke a sentence when I met him. But you know what? He’s happy now. And you’re crazy as hell if you think I’m going to let you ruin that with some kind of insane claim.”

She leaned over the table. “You think the courts are going to take your side over mine?”

“It’s not going to get that far. Name your price. I know that’s why you’re really here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pretend you’re shocked. I know bullshit. Fuck, I invented bullshit. Hunter isn’t your kid. You saw him on TV. You saw the story on how I’m trying to adopt him and you thought you could cash in on that.”

Her eyes darted wildly.

She was caught.