Runaway Colton

by Karen Whiddon

  An hour later, staring at herself in the salon mirror, Piper laughed out loud. She could barely recognize herself. “I should have done this years ago,” she remarked.

  “I agree.” The quiet stylist brought a mirror around to show Piper the back. “The cut brings out your cheekbones and makes your eyes appear huge!”

  “And I love the pink tips.” Odd how such a simple thing as a haircut could make Piper feel like herself again. She paid in cash, tipping exactly 20 percent, though she wished she could give more. For now, she had to be frugal with her money. This was all she had until she found out the truth about what had happened to Eldridge and exonerated herself.

  All she had to do was find the true murderer. Since she had few illusions that finding Eldridge’s real killer would be easy, maybe she should hire a private investigator. Could she afford that? Or could she afford not to?

  She thought back to a guy she’d once known. Cord Maxwell. He’d lived on the ranch as a kid since his father had been a ranch hand. Though she’d lost track of him over the years, she’d heard he’d gone to work with Sam Ater as a PI.

  Walking out of the salon a good seven inches of hair lighter, she shook her head, loving the way air felt on her naked neck. She’d never worn her hair this short, nor had layers. She had to say, the tousled look and different colors made her feel like a totally different person. Since that’s exactly how she needed to look, she considered it money well spent. All she needed now was a pair of oversize eyeglasses and hopefully no one would look twice. She drove to Walmart, walked inside and purchased a pair of frames with clear, nonprescription lenses. Slipping them on, she caught sight of herself in her car window and grinned. Perfect.

  Now she’d taken care of a disguise, which hopefully would buy her time to search for information about where Eldridge had been and who he’d seen the day he’d supposedly been killed. The one thing she didn’t understand was how the police could assume he’d been murdered when they didn’t even have a body. Since they couldn’t seem to find one, she believed quite strongly that Eldridge wasn’t dead.

  The bloody shirt needed explaining. Who hated her enough to try and frame her for murder?

  Rubbing her hands together, trademark optimism back in place, she needed to decide what to do next.

  She had a small problem. Okay, maybe a big one. Despite watching lots of detective and true crime shows on TV, she actually had no idea how to start searching for Eldridge. If the police couldn’t find him, how could she?

  Of course, she didn’t think the sheriff and his deputies had searched much once they’d decided to arrest her.

  Her brief consideration of hiring Cord Maxwell came back around. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. She needed a professional. Someone who did this sort of thing all the time. Someone with contacts, who could be discreet, and would accept a payment in cash.

  She thought he might be just that person. The only problem—his office was on Third Street, back in town.

  Glancing at her watch, she knew she had enough time to drive back toward town and stop at his office. But then she reconsidered. Not only did she run the risk of being recognized, even with her disguise, but what if Cord had heard she’d left town? This could be misconstrued as skipping out on her bail. He was a bounty hunter, after all.

  Instead, she decided to call him. Once he’d verbally accepted her offer to work for her, he couldn’t bring her in, could he? She thought it would be a conflict of interest. Or something.

  Using her phone, she did a quick internet search for S.A. Enterprises and located their web page. Once she had the phone number, she put it in her phone. Her finger hovered above the green phone icon. Was she sure she wanted to do this?

  Though a trickle of fear clogged her throat, she knew she had to make the call. Truth be told, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

  *

  When his office phone rang, Cord almost didn’t answer it. He’d spent the last hour mapping out a search area. Since Piper Colton wasn’t used to being on the lam, he figured she’d be easy to find. Of course, he’d believed the same thing about Renee.

  Something, call it instinct or maybe just desperation, had him reaching for the phone. After he answered and heard the husky feminine voice on the line, he could hardly believe he could be this lucky.

  Piper Colton. And she wanted to hire him.

  “Wait, slow down,” he said, barely able to make sense out of the torrent of words. “Maybe you should come in so we can talk.”

  She went silent then. For a few seconds at least, long enough for him to worry he might have blown it. “Or we can meet somewhere,” he added, aware she might not feel comfortable venturing back into town.

  “There’s a flea market tomorrow in Terrell,” she finally said, sounding remarkably upbeat considering her situation. “Meet me in front of the entrance at nine. It’s usually pretty crowded, so I’ll wear a yellow T-shirt.”

  Quickly, he agreed. Evidently, Piper Colton still liked to hunt down junked out furniture and make it pretty. He’d actually planned to begin searching at the Terrell Trade Days.

  She ended the call before he could question her further. No matter. He could hardly believe this case would be so easy. Not even two days had passed since Fowler had hired him.

  Grinning, he wished Sam were still here to high-five. Well-paying, quick and easy cases happened very seldom.

  The next morning, Cord donned his usual jeans, work boots and T-shirt. Though he wore his pistol in the concealed holster, he knew he most likely wouldn’t have to use it. One thing he’d learned over the years was that bringing in a fugitive was nothing like what was portrayed in movies and books. Nine times out of ten, the best way to apprehend someone was to talk to them. Explain the cost of their actions. And to listen when they attempted to justify what they’d done.

  By the time he and Piper finished shooting the breeze, he anticipated she’d be eager to return home to face the music.

  Years had passed since he’d seen Piper, and he remembered her as a skinny waif of a kid, all legs and elbows, with her long blond hair worn in twin braids. Oddly enough, in all this time he hadn’t run into her in town. He supposed he might have seen her from a distance, but couldn’t say for certain. He’d never been one to pay that much attention to the Colton family’s coming and goings. Those folks operated on a different plane than the rest of town.

  Despite the overcast morning, the unseasonably warm temperature enabled him not only to go without a jacket, but to wear short sleeves. Texas weather, always unpredictable. Eighty degrees one day, a hard freeze the next. As far as Cord was concerned, he preferred heat over cold.

  Driving out to the flea market, he realized Piper hadn’t been exaggerating when she talked of the crowds. A mile from the flea market and he sat in a traffic jam that rivaled Dallas’s early morning rush hour.

  Finally, he spotted a parking lot with openings. Handing over his ten dollar fee, he parked his truck. Now to find Piper Colton and talk her into returning home.

  Long lines formed at the entrance. Realizing people were waiting to purchase tickets to get in, he muttered a curse. Whoever heard of paying admission to an oversize garage sale, which was all a flea market was as far as he was concerned.

  Bypassing the lines earned him several frowns and glares. He ignored this, scanning the crowd for a woman in a yellow shirt.

  Of course, there were several. The first, he discounted immediately as she had to be at least eighty. The next could be the right age, but she had three kids in tow.

  And then he saw her. Piper Colton. Slender and beautiful and much sexier than he’d expected. She stood tall and confident, occasionally glancing up from her phone before returning her attention back to it. Though still athletic, she had curves in all the right places. She’d cut her blond hair short and tipped the spiky ends with hot pink, giving her an edgy look that he found erotic as hell. The stylish cut went well with her heart-shaped face, showing off her high cheekbones and mak
ing her green eyes appear huge, despite the large black eyeglasses she wore.

  The pale yellow of her T-shirt made him smile. He’d pictured lemon yellow, not this watered down version that suited her coloring so well.

  Striding toward her, he kept that smile on his face. She looked up, met his gaze, and he felt his entire world shift on its axis.

  What the hell? Pushing away the momentary sense of disorientation, he held out his hand. “Cord Maxwell,” he said quietly.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Though she slid her fingers into his and shook his hand, he noticed she didn’t offer her name. The fleeting firmness of her cool grip on his fingers pleased him. There was nothing tentative in this woman, which was good. She’d need all of her strength to face the days ahead.

  “I need your assistance,” she began. “As I’m sure you’ve probably heard, my adoptive father has disappeared. Since you’re a private investigator, I want to hire you to help me find out who kidnapped him and where he is.”

  Though he tried, he couldn’t quite contain his shock.

  “What’d you think I wanted?” she asked, her dry tone warring with her serious expression.

  He gave her the truth. “I thought you might ask me to help you find information to beat the murder charge.”

  A subtle flash in her eyes before she looked down. Anger? Resignation? Maybe both. “You know about that.”

  “Yes.” Debating if now would be the right time, he exhaled and went with it. “Your brother Fowler paid me a visit.”

  A combination of distaste and pain reflexed back at him in her expressive eyes. “What did Fowler want?”

  “He hired me to find you.”

  She froze. “Do you think you might have mentioned that when I first contacted you?”

  “I thought maybe we could talk first.”

  Barely had he gotten the words out when she spun to take off. He grabbed her arm. “Wait...”

  “Let me go or I’ll scream.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Please. Hear me out.”

  “Release. My. Arm.” She spat. “You’re hurting me.”

  That last did it. Even though he doubted his tight grip was painful, he let her go.

  Of course she took off. A fast walk, then a jog. He hurried along right behind her. No one in the crowd waiting in line to enter the flea market paid them any attention—if they did, Cord figured they’d assume a lovers’ spat.

  Piper’s jog became an all-out sprint. As he did the same, he couldn’t help but feel proud of her. She had no way to know he ran every morning. Or that he’d completed many marathons, too many to count.

  Instead of catching her, he kept pace with her, keeping a few feet away. When she reached a white BMW, evidently her vehicle, she stopped and fumbled in her small shoulder bag for a key.

  He made his move, stepping between her and the driver’s side door. “Ten minutes,” he said. “Just give me ten minutes of your time. I just want to talk.”

  Gaze raking over him, she shoved her glasses back up on her nose and considered. “I don’t see what good that will do. If you’re working for Fowler, you can’t help me. Conflict of interest and all that.”

  “Maybe I can do both,” he said. This got her attention.

  “Fine. Ten minutes.” Unlocking her car, she gestured at him to get in. “Start talking.”

  As he folded himself into the passenger seat, he realized she smelled like peaches. Which made him think of summer, his favorite time of the year. Biting into a plump, ripe peach with the juice running down his chin. And she, completely unaware of her appeal, eyed him with skepticism plain in every tense line of her body.

  “I believe you,” he told her. “I remember when we were kids on the ranch. You wouldn’t even kill a bug.”

  She nodded, but didn’t speak.

  Neither did he. He could wait her out. Sam had drilled into him how patience solved more cases than anything else.

  “But?” she finally prompted.

  He hid his rueful smile. “When’s your court date?”

  “I have no idea. My sister said she was told I’d get notice in the mail. She is going to hire an attorney to represent me.”

  “Fowler said to tell you he’ll pay all your legal fees.” Might as well put that out there.

  Her lovely eyes narrowed. “Why would he want to do that? He and Marceline made it clear they think I’m guilty.”

  “I think Fowler feels bad. He paid me a lot of money to find you and bring you back home.”

  Her pointed look told him what she thought about that. “And that’s your cue to get out of my car.”

  “My ten minutes aren’t up yet,” he protested, keeping his tone light. “How about this. I’ll work with you to find out what really happened to Eldridge if you agree to go back with me before your hearing.”

  “You want to make a deal?” The suspicion dripping from her voice made him smile.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know you can trust me?”

  “I knew you way back when,” he reminded her, even as he tried to reconcile the tomboy she’d once been with the confident and sexy woman sitting next to him. “I figure you couldn’t have changed too much.”

  Head tilted, she considered him. “You know, despite your kind memories of me, I’m not at all like you apparently think I am. I’m not a saint.”

  Her words brought a rush of selfish gladness, which he wisely kept to himself. It would be a sin to be a saint with a body like hers. “I never said you were.”

  “Despite that, to be honest I wasn’t planning on skipping out on court. I wouldn’t do that to T.C., Reid and Alanna.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He considered her right back, suppressing the tingle of desire he felt. “My suggestion is a win for both of us. I’ll help you investigate what really happened to Eldridge, and you can help me—” He stopped, unable to believe how close he’d come to telling her about Renee.

  Of course she picked up on that. “Help you what?”

  Should he? Why not. Like her, he had nothing to lose by telling her. “Since my sister died two years ago, I’ve been trying to raise my niece, Renee,” he said, keeping all emotion out of his voice. “She ran away a few weeks ago. I’ve been looking for her ever since.”

  Piper swallowed. One corner of her sensual mouth quirked in the beginnings of a smile. “Without success?”

  “Exactly.”

  He could see her thoughts written plainly on her face. “I normally have a very high success rate. But just because I’m licensed as a private investigator and fugitive recovery specialist doesn’t mean I never run into trouble.”

  “Good to know.” The ghost of a smile vanished before it ever actually came into being. He found himself wishing he could have seen it.

  “Why not?” she finally said, apparently coming to a quick decision. Her lack of prevaricating was another trait he admired. “Sure, I’m in. I’ll help you find your niece and you help me learn the truth about what happened to Eldridge.”

  He noticed again she didn’t say murder, which made him realize she truly didn’t believe her adoptive father was dead. The flicker of interest he had at the thought was the first he’d experienced in any case since Renee had disappeared. Worry and guilt had basically consumed him, blotting out the potential for anything else.

  “Sounds good,” he managed, realizing he’d gone a bit too long lost in his thoughts. He held out his hand. “Partners?”

  Without hesitation she shook. Once again, he felt that sizzle along his nerve endings and the touch of her fingers in his. Weird. But he could deal with it.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked, now that they’d sealed the bargain.

  “The Budget Inn off I-20.”

  “Let’s go gather your stuff. You’re staying with me from now on.”

  Arms crossed, she shook her head. “If you think that authoritative command is going to make me fall right in line with your plans, you’re dead wrong,” she d
rawled. “In fact, whenever someone tries to order me around, I want to do the exact opposite.”

  A laugh escaped him; he couldn’t help it. “I like you,” he said, surprised.

  “I’m reserving judgment until I know you better.” There it was again, the smile sneaking onto a corner of her mouth.

  He found himself holding his breath waiting for it. When she looked down instead, he pushed away his disappointment. “Fair enough,” he said. “We’re a lot alike. I think we’ll get along just fine.”

  “Maybe.” She didn’t sound too concerned. “Now I’m going to go back to the flea market and check it out. After that, I’ll think about considering your kind offer of shelter.”

  Chapter 3

  As she browsed the flea market, pretending an extreme interest in just about every booth, from homemade baked goods to used tires, Piper ignored her keen awareness of the large man silently shadowing her. Due to his size and the masculinity he radiated, he drew a lot of stares from other women.

  Though she couldn’t blame them, she wasn’t sure what to think of Cord Maxwell. As he’d pointed out, they’d known each other as children, but she also knew a lot could happen to a person in the years between childhood and adulthood.

  Despite that, she’d kept distant track of him, the way most everyone did in a small town. She knew he’d inherited Sam Ater’s business when Sam died and had heard Cord had a good reputation as a steady, honest man. She’d planned to hire him, after all. Until she’d realized he not only knew she’d been arrested for murder, but that Fowler had beat her to him.

  Did that mean she could trust him? As she examined a beautiful, amber-colored jar of local honey, she considered. Cord had told her the truth up front—that he was working for Fowler—despite the possibility that doing so might make her run. That had to count for something, right?

  She’d always been a big believer in trusting her instincts. And her gut feeling told her she could trust him.

  Decision made, she turned to tell him, only to catch him regarding her with such intensity that his eyes had darkened. Unbidden, she felt an answering shiver of awareness before squashing it right back into nothing.