Colton (Found by You Book 7)

by Victoria H. Smith

  COLTON: A FOUND BY YOU NOVEL

  By Victoria H. Smith

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  COLTON: A FOUND BY YOU NOVEL

  Copyright © 2019 by Victoria H. Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Edits by Straight on ‘til Morningside and Judy’s Proofreading

  Chapter One

  Cami

  I pushed my way through the grinding bodies, shaking my head at the familiar situation I just lodged myself into.

  He’s going to get the cops called on his ass again.

  A beefy arm came out like a grapple hook from my right, and my heels flew out from underneath me. A startled screech left my throat, and I was lodged into the side of a body about seven feet tall to my five foot five. I didn’t know this guy, but he sure acted like he knew me, breathing a cloud of thick yeasty breath in my face. My boss sure hung out with the best.

  Embedding my fingers into my leather bag, I prepared to use it to slap the shit out of the guy who was all hands and no manners, but another guy matching his height with a slimmer physique separated us. Basketball players littered the site tonight. After all, I did work for a basketball player, but at least this was one I could handle.

  Jesse managed to get that asshat off me, beer in hand while he did so. He shoved him once I was free. “Watch it, douche.”

  The guy simply shrugged the encounter off, moving into a groove put on from the speakers that lined the house, which was located in the Hills. Embedded deep in the landscapes of palm trees and scenery, the LA home had a semblance of seclusion from the rest of the world, but it wasn’t like neighbors weren’t around to hear all this bullshit happening tonight.

  He’s really going to get the cops called on him.

  I brushed my latest tussle off. I had about three since I walked in already. Jesse fought to keep himself from snorting while I got my blouse together, but hid it behind his beer bottle.

  “You all right?” he asked behind brown eyes.

  I rolled mine, shrugging my bag up my arm. “I could have handled that.”

  “Oh, no doubt. I was saving him from you and your handbag, slugger.”

  And he knew I was capable of doing some damage too. I had before. Not like I had been given a choice. When were parties not happening here?

  I gazed around, my arms crossed. “Where is he?”

  By he, Jesse knew exactly to whom I referred. He raised his beer bottle to the room of thrashing bodies. “Enjoying the rewards of his hard-earned work. It’s not every day a guy’s got one of the hottest teams in the league after him. He’s taking it easy tonight.”

  The audacity of it all had me throwing my head back. “Kind of early to be celebrating when the papers aren’t even signed.”

  True, my boss got an offer. His dream team really and many more on the table as he was the most sought-after free agent in the game right now. Colton Chandler was the player everyone wanted to get their hands on and would fight tooth and nail to get, his rising stats and skills well known since his debut only a few years ago. Because of that, he got the pick of the litter as far as teams went once his latest contract was up. But none of that would matter if he couldn’t even take a moment to make things legal. His brother’s team was waiting on an answer, the one he ultimately chose.

  I wished I could say this had been the only “celebratory” party, but Colton had just gotten off a plane after the first. Once he got the big news about Miami coming for him, his family threw a huge shindig in his hometown back in Texas for him, something he’d barely been spotted at once he got there. I knew because I’d been on the front lines as his assistant, and my boss had basically gone AWOL, myself having to dodge questions left and right from his own frickin’ family about where the star was. I didn’t really get to see him until we left.

  He threw this party barely after the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac upon coming home to California.

  Jesse drew an arm around my neck, the only one who could pull that off and knew the gesture wouldn’t be met with a fresh hand to the face. Jesse Michaels was actually one of Colton’s friends I could stand, but he’d be wise not to test me now, his friend literally all over the place as of late. Colton’s agent, Joe, had been trying to get ahold of him since we got back as Miami really was waiting. They needed to hammer out when he’d sign the paperwork, but that couldn’t be done if the “star player” couldn’t be found.

  Jesse flashed deep brown eyes at me from under lengthy brown strands. “Relax, Cami. Take a night off and let the paperwork wait. Everyone’s here tonight to celebrate with Colt, and you should too. You’re a part of it.”

  The reason I had a job was because I didn’t participate in things like this and kept my boss in line. Someone had to be responsible for Colton Chandler when he wouldn’t be for himself.

  I slid from under his arm, my smile tight. “Colton, Jesse. Just Colton. I know you know where he is.”

  The smile left his lips. Raising the beer bottle toward his mouth, he flicked it in a random direction before taking a sip. “Off getting some pussy somewhere, I think.”

  I fought myself to keep from groaning. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d have to break that up to get him to handle his responsibilities. I supposed tonight would be yet another night.

  The bottle left Jesse’s lips when he lowered it. “I’d check his room.” The words had barely left Jesse’s mouth before his long reach found a redhead, his lips to her neck. “Hey, baby. Join me for a drink somewhere.”

  The two left me in the crowded living room, and I could only shake my head. Colton with a girl meant Jesse had to have two to his one. He grabbed another on his way out to the deck overlooking the pool. I’d never get over guys having to one-up the other.

  My heels trekked up the spiral staircase. Colton’s guests were making full use of the wet bar on level two. He let these people suck him dry, but then again, that’s how people like him operated. The rich were an entirely different breed, a fact I knew too well.

  A girl passed out in the stairwell caused me to snarl my lip. I passed over her and headed down to Colton’s room. He’d be handling that one pronto. He did not need a potential sexual assault case happening in his home.

  My fist drummed against the wide door, hoping he at least had his clothes on when he answered the door this time. Last time had been… questionable.

  The door opened, and my back stiffened at the half-naked girl on the other side. Colton’s type for sure, leggy and beautiful as she buttoned up her shorts. But that’s not why my back
went up. It was the fear in her eyes, and the stream of tears she had in a thick trail of mascara running down a set of flushed cheeks. Her front bare, she had a shirt pressed up against her naked breasts.

  She sniffed. “I told him not to take so much.”

  That’s all she said. That’s all she got out before rushing away from me and fleeing down the hallway.

  A sprinkle of scattered clothing led to Colton’s bed, and the sight on top made my bag fall from my shoulder and my stomach toss as my pulse ticked rapidly in my neck.

  Colton wore nothing but boxer briefs on his extensive frame, similar to the girl and her near nakedness in that aspect, but there was a difference, a vast one that made the world spin where I stood.

  A single body did nothing but thrash in his bed, convulse. His mouth was open, the sheets bunching under his shaking frame and a table with white scattered powder told me why, a couple rolled dollar bills beside them.

  Oh my God.

  I rushed to his side, my own hands shaking as I picked up his cellphone, lying haphazardly next to the splatter of drugs. His eyes had turned white, what I knew to be bright blue irises lost as they’d rolled back in his head.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  My hand hovered over him, his body that wouldn’t stop moving, wouldn’t stop shaking. I stared at the powder, a thin trail remaining from what I assumed were snorted lines. There were so many, so many.

  “911, please state your emergency.”

  His skin paled, his body white, and next to him was an empty pill bottle, the tiny capsules from inside strewn about underneath his arms.

  What are you doing? You don’t…

  “911, please—”

  “It’s my boss,” I said, pressing the phone to my ear. “It’s my boss. He took something. I don’t know what. He’s shaking. Please help me.”

  “Where are you located, ma’am?”

  “In the Hills,” I said, rattling off the address next. This didn’t make sense. This was a dream.

  “I’m sending an ambulance, ma’am,” said the dispatcher. “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Camille,” I flustered. “Cami. This man is my boss. His name is Colton Chandler, and he’s convulsing. His skin, it’s…”

  A body that used to be tan thrashed so hard beside me. His arm shot out in a broken-like position, and then a thick foam trickled from his open mouth.

  My breath left me.

  “He’s vomiting! Oh, God. He’s vomiting. Help me, please!”

  “Okay, Cami. I’m going to need you to turn his head. Don’t hold his arms or keep him from moving. Just turn it so he doesn’t choke.”

  Moving on the bed, my hand slid under thick blond curls. Upon turning his head, the pink liquid in his mouth spilled, staining the white pillow beneath him. So much seeped out but he didn’t gag on it. I kept his head turned until he stopped.

  “Is he still vomiting, Cami?”

  I shook my head like she could see. “No, but he’s still moving. I think he’s having a seizure.”

  But he was alive. He was alive.

  “Just don’t touch him, Cami. Is he in a position to injure himself?”

  I eyed him. “No.”

  “Good. Can you tell me Colton’s height and weight? His age?”

  “He’s twenty-six. Just had a birthday and…” My brain reached for other information, things I should know backwards and forwards. I knew everything about this man. I was paid to know, but in that moment, it all fuzzed like a thick cloud in my mind.

  Lines. So many lines were on that table.

  I rattled off six foot five and his weight. I had no idea how close I was on the latter with the fog in my rattled brain. “He plays basketball professionally.”

  “Thank you, Cami. Can you tell me what you think he took?”

  Pills around him lay scattered from an unlabeled bottle, the lines of drugs foreign to me as well. Could have been coke, could have been something else, but Colton didn’t do drugs. He didn’t… and then, the bottle of vodka took my attention, the glass shattered in a million pieces on the floor. He took all this.

  He ingested it all.

  “Cami, please tell me what you think he took. Describe it for me. I need you to be my eyes.”

  I turned as flashing lights sprinkled the room through the bedroom’s wide window, cops unloading from the very cars that held them below. Moving, I saw no ambulance, only a police response.

  A response to a party.

  He really did get the cops called on him.

  “Cami?”

  The strain of the voice took my attention, the weakness in a familiar depth.

  The tremors had left Colton’s big body, the seizure abated. Eyes roaming, he couldn’t focus on me, his lids opening and closing, but he said my name. I know he did.

  I leaned in, touching his silky curls. I never touched him like this before, his hair so soft.

  “Colton?” I asked, searching for his eyes. I found him when that ray of blue finally made its way toward me. He found me and when he did, his expression cringed into something tortuous I didn’t understand, the agony in his eyes not far behind.

  “Don’t,” he started, reaching for me before he closed his eyes. “Don’t tell my family. Don’t tell them. Don’t tell them…”

  He just kept saying that over and over, to not tell his family, to keep to myself about what was happening.

  I gazed around, the booze and drugs filling my eyes before I faced him. His breath steady, no other words but those continued to leave his lips.

  “Don’t tell them,” he gasped, his voice weak. “Don’t tell them.”

  The drugs surrounded him, emergency services in my ears, but all I could hear was Colton, his desperate plea rising above all else and as I took in the reality of what he did and to the extreme lengths he did them, all I could think was one thing…

  What exactly was he asking me not to tell?

  Several Weeks Later

  Chapter Two

  Colton

  Thirty days. Thirty days of long nights, afternoons, mornings. For thirty days, I’d been removed from my life. I guess I should consider myself lucky, though. If the judge had it his way, I would’ve gotten ninety.

  I braced myself as the jet’s wheels hit tarmac, the sun casting its glow on the wide runway of LAX. I didn’t know what awaited me after I left this seat, but I had an idea. I was given my personal items on the way out of Shining Hope, the place I’d been crashing at for some of the worst days of my life. How ironic a guy could be sent to rehab when he’d only taken hard drugs once in his life.

  I slid my ball cap on, squeezing the bill before exiting the plane with my bag. The flight attendant handed me off to an escort, not unusual as someone went with me everywhere. Two bodyguards flanked behind me, and I fell into a place of familiarity. I really was home. If the men in black didn’t tell me that, the photographers at baggage claim did.

  I bypassed the flashing lights entirely, covering my eyes as a black Suburban pulled up in front of me. The windows were tinted, the inside unidentifiable, and a sudden wave of nausea warped me. Beads of sweat misted my brow, my hands clammy like just before an intense game.

  Is she… in there?

  The door opened from the inside, and I was relieved as much as I was anxious. Deep brown eyes and the curly dark lashes surrounding them I evaded for now, but that just meant more time would pass between us. It was time I needed to address sooner rather than later if only for my anxiety.

  The assistant to my assistant, Tommy, hopped out of the ride, feeling the need to bow for some reason with his clipboard. He grinned. “Mr. Chandler, welcome back.”

  Mr. Chandler was my pop. Not me in all of my twentysomething years. I threw my bag over my back, nodding before hopping inside the SUV. I expected Tommy to join me right after and inquire about something as soon as he did, something about me. He might have, but he never got the chance.

  Familiar hands, my stylist Margy, appro
ached me immediately in the back of the car. Comb in hand, she whipped my hat off to take a comb to my head. Little did my stylist know, I went through some changes in rehab.

  In more ways than one.

  The stylist blanched at a shaved head. I guess you could call it an act of rebellion for having to serve time at a place I didn’t belong.

  I took the hat back, but she wouldn’t let me return it to my head. Making do with what she had, she exchanged the comb for a thick bristle brush. She moved that brush over my head, and my other stylist Josie—also in the vehicle—attempted to rip my hoodie off, holding up a suit jacket to replace it. I eyed Tommy.

  He simply smiled. “Joe’s scheduled a press conference for you. You know, to make a statement.”

  I could think of a few choice words, but I kept them to myself, knowing Joe’s way. My agent, Joe Martina, didn’t waste time when it came to me. He knew my aversion to the press so he forced me to deal with them like ripping off a Band-Aid. I loved the guy and had worked with him for a long time. He’d been a referral through my sister-in-law’s firm. Vetted and all that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t bug the piss out of me sometimes with his brash techniques.

  I moved back from all the hands on me. “I don’t feel like dealing with the press today.”

  A flash of panic touched Tommy’s face, and I knew I just hit him with defiance he wasn’t equipped to handle. There was a reason he was assistant to my assistant. He lacked the iron stomach for this job. That came from someone else. Someone else who wasn’t here for some reason. Tommy opened his mouth. “I understand, Mr. Chandler. But Joe said…” He paused, hesitant to argue. “Joe just wants you to get this out of the way so you don’t have to deal with it. And Camille, she’s tasked me with getting you there on time and ready. I’ve been informed the press conference won’t take long and will have hardly any questions.”

  Cami. I raised my hand, giving up. “I’ll go. Fine.” She’d be there, no doubt. That’s probably why she wasn’t escorting me today, preparing for this thing.