The Colton Sheriff

by Addison Fox

  At the time, he’d believed his mother was talking about Aisha. Now...

  As he glanced over at her, talking with Decker and Kendall to her left, luminescent in the form-fitting lavender dress, he had to wonder if he was the sucker in all this. When this charade was over, was he actually going to go back as if nothing had happened? Now that he knew what it was like to kiss her? To pick her up at her home to go out as a couple, dressed like a vision. To work with her, seeing that scary-smart brain in full gear over pizza and crime scene photos.

  He’d done this to himself, of course. All his cousins had found partners this year and he’d instead defaulted to work mode, taking an easy out with his best friend in order to get reelected. His gaze caught on the various faces assembled around the table, each smiling, happy couple reinforcing that truth.

  Wyatt and Bailey had the seats nearest Earl. Bailey’s gentle nature had Trey’s grandfather clearly charmed, his broad smile all lit up for Wyatt’s new wife. On Earl’s other side were Blaine and Tilda. His cousin Blaine had rediscovered his high school girlfriend and, in even more life-altering news, had discovered their young teenage son, Joshua. Trey had watched Blaine, an extreme sports enthusiast, put himself in harm’s way for years. It was awesome to see now how he’d changed. That daredevil spirit still lived inside him, but he’d put his energy into rebuilding his family from the ground up and Trey couldn’t help but envy the way fate had given all three of them a path to their future.

  Which was awfully self-centered and had absolutely nothing to do with his happiness for his cousin. But still, that envy coursed through him like an angry wind blowing through the trees.

  Had he given up the opportunity for all of that for his job? For that sense of duty that drove him to work the hardest and focus on doing every damn thing by the book.

  What if one of you develops feelings?

  Ignoring his mother’s lingering voice—or the reality that there wasn’t a happy-ever-after in his future after this ruse ended—Trey kept his gaze on the table.

  Next came his cousin Sloane and her new husband, Liam Kastor. A detective with the Roaring Springs PD, Liam had been a valuable link to what was going on with the Avalanche Killer and he, Trey and Daria had regularly shared information. The Feds might have taken over the majority of the case, but Liam came from the same school of thought as Trey: the Avalanche Killer had targeted their town and they had a vested interest in catching the bastard.

  He’d already spent a few minutes over a beer catching Liam up on the latest note that had come in, Aisha filling in her impressions of the clumsy writing and poorly articulated clues. If they even were clues, she’d added. Liam’s light green eyes had sharpened at Aisha’s description and he’d obviously wanted to know more before Trey’s sister, Bree, had admonished them to stop the shop talk, then pulled him and Aisha away to sit down for dinner.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Aisha leaned in close once more and, again, Trey imagined that all anyone saw was a happy couple, speaking in intimate tones meant only for one another.

  “Yes. Why?”

  Her gaze was direct when she whispered the words meant only for him. “You’re smiling, but I can see the sadness in your eyes.”

  “I’m happy for my family. It’s been a difficult year for the Coltons and they’ve all come through it.” He tilted his head slightly, gesturing to the table at large. “Every one of them has faced down some of the worst days of their lives and come out the other side stronger for it.”

  “You don’t think you can do the same?”

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  Before he could consider the move, he leaned in and captured her lips with his. He didn’t know anymore. In fact, he was shocked to realize how little he had a grasp on. His job. The killer haunting Roaring Springs. Even the upcoming election. All of it was out of control, rocketing through his life with all the destruction of an erupting volcano.

  Yet somehow, Aisha sat in the center of it all, a calming force that never ceased to amaze him. She was there. Present. Involved and engaged in every way that mattered.

  Not only was he not ready to give it up, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking a taste of what was so close.

  Their lips met, hot and hungry. Even as he remained conscious of their audience, he couldn’t quite stem the tide of need and desire that whipped through him.

  Her lips were plump but firm, a soft place to land yet strong enough to carry the passion that built and expanded between them. Her tongue met his, neither tentative nor shy, hesitant or cautious. Although they’d kissed only a few times, she was a woman who knew her own mind and who kissed like it.

  Who met him as an equal.

  He reveled in the exchange, the heady attraction intensifying even as he knew he needed to keep a firm hold on his emotions. More, that he couldn’t have what his body so obviously desired. She’d made that abundantly clear when they’d entered into this arrangement. This kiss—hell, this evening—was for show only.

  But what was it about this woman? And why, after so many years having her in his life, had something changed?

  His suggestion had been so simple. Pretend for a few months to be engaged. They already spent considerable time together. All they needed to do was put on a public front for others and leave the rest of their life as it was. Settled. Comfortable. Normal.

  Only now, nothing was normal. He wanted his best friend with a need that increasingly bordered on manic. And for as unsettled as Aisha Allen made him feel, he couldn’t twist the situation in any way that it didn’t feel right.

  Overwhelmingly, satisfyingly right.

  “Well, well.” The slow clap of hands interrupted the moment, growing louder as the joyous laughing around the table fell silent.

  “You’re not welcome here, Evigan!” Someone, Trey thought maybe Rylan, growled in warning.

  Undeterred, Barton Evigan moved closer to the table. “I’m just stopping by to congratulate the happy couple.”

  As his hulking form towered over Aisha, Trey didn’t even think. He stood, moving into Evigan’s physical space as a way to shift the man away from Aisha. In the distance Barton’s wife stood, wringing her hands as she stood next to a man who could have been her husband’s carbon copy.

  “You’ve said your piece. Now move on.”

  “Oh, come now, Sheriff.” Evigan’s bloodshot blue eyes lit up. “Is that any way to talk to one of your constituents?”

  “Is that what you’re calling yourself now?”

  “I’m a taxpaying resident of Bradford County. What else would I be?”

  “A public nuisance.” Aisha shot out the insult, standing and moving to Trey’s side.

  While Trey wanted nothing more than to shield her from his opponent, he wasn’t going to get another chance like this one. Especially as all talk had quieted in The Chateau dining room.

  Evigan’s brows rose as his gaze roamed over Aisha, something dark flashing in those bloodshot depths.

  “I suggest you have a little more respect for the woman who is going to be my wife”

  “A real man doesn’t need to throw his weight around.” Aisha’s gaze shifted meaningfully to Evigan’s wife, standing a few feet away, her eyes on the floor. “He’s more than confident to walk beside his wife.”

  “You’re a little spitfire, aren’t you? Uppity with your degree like that makes you someone.” Evigan lashed out the words, meting them out in a quiet voice that stung with all the force of pelting ice. To anyone watching, the byplay appeared physical and tense, but even straining to hear, they’d likely have missed the exchange.

  Or the repeated evidence Evigan bore a distinct streak of bigotry.

  His disdain was practically a living, breathing entity between them. Trey had known from the first that Barton Evigan would be a poor choice for Bradford County. It was disheartening to see, once again, ju
st how correct he’d been from the start.

  “Come on, Bart.” The man who was clearly his brother moved up behind them, slapping Barton on the back. “People are starting to notice. You catch more honey with flies, you know that.”

  A dark grin spread across Barton’s lips, as equally cold as the sneer it replaced. “How right you are, Trace. We should let this family get back to their celebration.”

  The two men backed away, their twin forms matched in width and girth. Trey never moved, nor was he willing to sit down until they’d left the room. He’d learned early in life not to turn his back on a feral animal, and the two jerks leaving The Chateau’s dining room certainly qualified.

  He did, however, want to reassure Aisha. With his gaze on the retreating forms of the Evigan brothers, he reached for her hand. “Are you all right?”

  She linked her fingers with his, squeezing gently. “I’m fine.”

  “He’s not worth our time.”

  “Maybe not, but he is worth our fight.” Once the two men exited the room with Barton’s wife, Trey finally turned to face her.

  What had he brought her into? “I’m so sorry for that. For what he said to you.”

  “I can stand up to a bigot and a bully. I’ve had some practice.”

  He clenched his jaw. “You shouldn’t have to. Not here. And certainly not from a man seeking public office.”

  “That’s why you’re going to beat him. I’m in this with you, Trey. And I’m going to help you do it.”

  He pulled her close for a hug, not caring what his family saw or what they assumed. Barton Evigan had lashed out at Aisha and while there was no law against being a jerk, Trey was going to protect her all the same.

  Whatever else had happened tonight, his opponent for office had shown his hand. His true nature had trickled through before, but tonight the raw ambition and barely leashed ferocity was on full display. He’d come to the table to taunt them, arrogance personified.

  But it had backfired.

  Whatever lingering doubts Trey had about the rightness of his and Aisha’s deception had vanished. Evigan needed to go down and Trey was just the man for the job. He hadn’t been afraid of the school bully as a kid and he’d be damned if he was going to be afraid of the town bully now.

  Only one thing was different.

  This time, Aisha had put herself in the crosshairs.

  Chapter 12

  Daria stared at her computer screen, search results falling in a cascade beneath the query box. She scanned each of them quickly, disappointed when nothing bore fruit. Not a single Bloom.

  Anywhere.

  She fought the small pain that arrowed through her heart and shut down the search program. She was always on the lookout for new tools available to the sheriff’s office and when she’d heard about the updated missing persons database she’d hoped it might give her what she needed to find her birth mother.

  But nothing.

  Another strikeout, and on a Saturday night, no less.

  She was a workaholic so the Saturday night wasn’t anything new—especially not with all that needed to be done at the moment—but still... She’d hoped the twenty-minute carve out for herself would be a bit more successful. Even if she hadn’t found immediate evidence of her mother, a small kernel of information she hadn’t uncovered before would have been a victory.

  She picked up the nameplate that identified her from the edge of her desk.

  Daria Bloom.

  A change from the name she’d carried most of her life before coming to Roaring Springs.

  Daria Colton.

  Bloom had been her birth name and the one she’d returned to when she’d decided to look for her birth mother in earnest. It connected her—or so she’d believed—and she had embraced the change. How disappointing to realize that the name change hadn’t put her any closer to answering the question that had haunted her for most of her life.

  Why had her mother given her up?

  Even with the steady love of her adoptive parents, nothing had erased the desperate need to find out where she came from. Joe Colton had been a model father and he wanted what was best for her—he still wanted that—but he hadn’t been able to give her the one thing she needed.

  Answers.

  So she’d come here. Of the few clues she had, one was that her life had begun in the West, likely Colorado. When she’d realized she could be near her extended adoptive family by coming to Roaring Springs, she’d taken the opportunity. Although the branch of the Coltons that lived in Colorado was rather distant from former President Joe Colton, she’d still loved the idea of being near family.

  Telling them who she was, however, was an entirely different matter. When she finally declared herself a Colton, she wanted it to be because she knew who Daria Bloom was.

  Unfortunately, she’d been in Roaring Springs for nearly a year and still had no answers.

  And now everyone she knew, including her distant cousin Trey, had no idea who she really was.

  What would they do when they found out? A year of deception didn’t exactly sit in her favor. Even as her conscience kept nagging at her to just come clean. They were family. Somehow, they’d understand. Or would eventually. But still, she held back. She loved working for Trey and knew him to be a fair and honorable man. In her quieter moments, she’d nearly convinced herself to tell him everything, confessing her secret.

  Then an opportunity would present itself and she’d chicken out.

  Which was silly since he might even be able to help her. The Avalanche Killer currently occupied their minds 24/7, but she’d seen his work style over the past year. He was methodical and careful, by-the-book yet able to toss that book when he needed to act on gut instinct. It was a rare gift—a leader who could balance both—and Trey Colton had her undying devotion and respect.

  So tell him.

  That small voice whispered again and she pushed back from her desk, willing it to quiet. She’d grab a fresh cup of coffee and head back to the conference room and review the murder boards. That would give her something to focus on and temper the disappointment of another dead end.

  It had to.

  Ten minutes later, her coffee full of a small dab of cream, just the way she liked it, she stared at the evidence they’d accumulated on the latest potential victim. The hair and blood sample didn’t necessarily mean death, but since the killer’s call on Monday night and the delivery of the package, they’d operated under the assumption there was a body to be found. The second note and the use of the word victim had further solidified the assumption.

  “But what if?” She murmured the words out loud, nearly bobbling her coffee when an answer came winging back at her.

  “What if she’s still alive?”

  Daria whirled around to find FBI Agent Stefan Roberts standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “I work here,” she huffed.

  “That’s why I came to find you.”

  “Me?”

  He pointed to one of the rolling chairs, neatly pushed in around the conference room table. “Mind if I sit?”

  “Sure.”

  His dark gaze drifted to the boards, and she used that moment to consider him. He had the prettiest skin she’d ever seen, and that wasn’t a term she usually used when she considered a man. His skin was dark brown, his complexion smooth and unblemished. Every time she saw him, she had this crazy urge to reach out and trace the tip of her finger over his cheek, convinced she’d feel nothing but the lightest scratch of his beard.

  He was delicious.

  It was all she kept coming back to, as images of replacing her finger with her lips would immediately shift the image from curiosity to urgent need.

  Which was why she avoided thinking about how Stefan Roberts looked. Or possibly taste
d. Or sounded.

  Even if that deep, resonant voice had invaded her dreams more than a few times since they’d met over the Avalanche Killer case.

  “How can I help you, Agent Roberts?”

  “The latest note. The one that came in on Wednesday. We’ve been over it and over it and feel there’s something to the use of the word box.”

  “We agree.”

  “We?” He leaned forward, his gaze holding hers for a moment. “Not I?”

  “We’re a team here.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  She heard the dry notes and wasn’t going to let them lie. “You have a problem with that?”

  “No.”

  “Because you sound like you do.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  “My hearing’s quite good,” she shot back.

  “Then listen well. I don’t have a problem.”

  Daria wasn’t ready to change her mind but she had no interest in arguing the point. “So. The note?”

  “Slow like the fox. You’d better watch out. Evidence in a box. Another victim, no doubt.” He recited the words she’d already committed to memory, the message as puzzling out loud as it was on the page.

  “It makes no sense beyond the rhyme,” she said after he’d finished.

  “You think that’s important?” he asked, curiosity glimmering in his gaze.

  “You don’t?”

  “It’s meaningless crap. All of it.”

  Aisha couldn’t resist the smile, so she attempted to hide it behind her coffee mug. She spoke just before taking a sip. “Is that your professional opinion?”

  “Mine and the profilers.” He didn’t hold back a grin of his own. It was subtle and started slow, but once it spread across his face, it positively electrified his features. The man went from incredibly handsome to mind-blowingly hot in the matter of a smile.

  The intense and immediate reaction was enough to quell her own smile and Daria shifted gears, determined to focus on the ramblings of a killer. “What do they think about it? I have my opinions, but profiling isn’t my expertise.”

  “The bodies discovered after the avalanche suggest all the classic patterns of a serial killer. Meticulous and methodical behavior. Careful management of the bodies. Even with the destruction of the avalanche the depressions in situ showed they were all buried with the same precision. The same body position from what we could find. That indicates a level of awareness and preparation.”