Hunting the Colton Fugitive

by Colleen Thompson

  Nova’s pretty face suffused with color—a face in which he was delighted to recognize the resemblance, in the eyes, that Sierra had mentioned earlier. A resemblance that swept aside any lingering, paranoid suspicions that this incredible story of a secret daughter had been some elaborate hoax whipped up by his siblings and the bounty hunter to trick him into coming home.

  Damned if this girl isn’t mine, and carrying my grandchild, too, he thought, his throat tightening as the miracle of this unexpected gift of a biological connection, after so much had been taken from him, truly sank in. Especially seeing it witnessed like this, blessed and aided by three of his siblings and the woman he prayed he could convince to become a part of his life moving forward.

  But he’d be damned if he allowed his daughter’s first impression of him to be that of a sobbing sentimentalist, so with some difficulty, Ace pulled himself together by grabbing a box of tissues from the countertop and offering it to Nova before her tears began to spill.

  Instead of taking one, however, she sniffled softly and then abruptly ducked beneath his outstretched arm. Nova then wrapped Ace in a hug that had him wondering what he’d ever done in this life to deserve such grace.

  * * *

  While Ace, Nova, and Nikolas were speaking privately in the study, getting to know one another, Sierra and Ainsley sat in the main living area talking, while Grayson wandered over to examine the contents of the built-in bar just off the main living area.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you,” Grayson said, a relieved smile slanting across his handsome face, “but I sure could use a stiff drink right about now.”

  “I’ll second that,” agreed Rafe, who’d been leaning against the kitchen island returning a text message to his fiancée. “Though a cold beer sounds good about now.”

  “Sierra?” Grayson asked.

  “I’d be good with sparkling water,” she responded, since she felt the need to keep her wits about her.

  “Coming right up. What about you, Ainsley?”

  Ainsley nodded. “I’ll have a glass of chardonnay, if there’s any chilled, please. I’m completely wrung out from trying to keep all our other siblings from rushing right over here before Ace had the chance to spend any time with Nova. If Bowie hadn’t surprised Marlowe with that overnight getaway, I’m pretty sure she would’ve been pounding down the door right now.”

  Sierra smiled, recalling from her research that that particular sibling had a condo in this same complex.

  “You might want something stronger,” Grayson suggested, “if you’re going to break the news to Ace tonight about Micheline Anderson being his real mother.”

  Sierra, who’d been distracted by the surprising discovery that the PI she’d spoken to about Ace’s case earlier was romantically involved with Nova, looked up sharply. “Who?” Though the name rang a bell—a warning Klaxon, for some reason—she couldn’t place it for a moment. And then she remembered the photo she’d seen in the shop window, the one thanking the Affirmation Alliance Group founder for her help with earthquake recovery efforts.

  “Wait a minute,” Sierra blurted, staring in Ainsley’s direction. “Weren’t you the one who warned me, right after I arrived in Mustang Valley, when I said I was looking for an out-of-the-way place to lodge, to stay as far as humanly possible from the AAG Center—and anything to do with Micheline Anderson and her ‘Being Your Best You’ groupies?”

  “I did, and for good reason,” Ainsley admitted, lines creasing her forehead.

  “What?” Sierra asked. “Is she another one of those slick self-help gurus who help themselves to the contents of their followers’ bank accounts?”

  She mouthed a quick thanks to Grayson as he handed her the sparkling water she’d requested.

  “Far worse.” Ainsley accepted the glass of wine her brother offered but set it down, untouched. “We already had reason to suspect Micheline might have once gone by the name of Luella Smith, the nurse believed to have switched the babies. Then my fiancé, Santiago, and I uncovered evidence Micheline might also be connected to this phony Marriage Institute scheme, where they were promising couples counseling but actually taking payoffs from one side to tip the scales.”

  “Sounds like a nightmare.” Sierra could all too easily able to imagine the horrific potential for abuse.

  “The real nightmare,” Rafe put in, looking at his sister, “is imagining what could’ve happened if your and Santiago’s scheme to play a married couple and infiltrate that crooked institute had gone wrong.”

  “It very nearly did,” Ainsley admitted with a shudder. “Fortunately, we were able to get that scheme shut down, but from what I overheard Micheline say during a phone call, I’m absolutely certain she’s planning something that means big trouble.”

  “And now,” Grayson said, “to have to tell Ace that a woman like that might really be his—”

  Grimacing, Ainsley shook her head at him. “I can’t tell him, not now. I’ve been a nervous wreck all day as it is, worrying how Ace would take instant fatherhood after everything else he’d been contending with. Nova would’ve been heartbroken, after everything she’s gone through, if he’d rejected her.”

  Ainsley’s brothers let the subject drop.

  Sierra told them, “I don’t think rejecting Nova ever entered Ace’s mind. It was a shock, of course, when he first heard about her, and I know he still has a lot of questions about why the mother—what was her name?—never told him she was pregnant. I’m sure he’d love to ask her.”

  “Allegra Ellis,” Ainsley said. “But I’m afraid Nova’s mother’s passed away, so Nova and Ace are left now to figure out their own truths...and how they want their story to end.”

  Grayson looked around. “Shall we all drink a toast to happily ever afters?”

  “To happily-ever-afters,” Ainsley said, reaching to pick up and raise her elegant crystal wineglass, “or at least as near to it as we all can hope to come.”

  Agreeing to that, they quickly drank, and afterward the brothers started talking, awkwardly, to Sierra’s ears, about the impact of the recent earthquake on the town’s economy. While Grayson explained something about the early emergency response to Rafe, Ainsley sipped at her wine and looked toward Sierra with a look worthy of her reputation as one of the shrewdest corporate lawyers in the state.

  “So tell me, Sierra,” Ainsley asked, dropping her voice and canting her head in a conspiratorial manner, “is there any chance, any chance at all, that our brother’s happily-ever-after might possibly include you?”

  Sierra sputtered on the fizzy mouthful of sparkling water she’d been swallowing. “Me?” Was it that obvious to others that she and Ace had slept together? Belatedly struggling to pull together her poker face, she coughed into her hand and asked, “What on earth would make you say that?”

  “Because you’re still here, for one thing,” Ainsley pointed out. “And more than that, I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way he looks at you—and I’ve noticed your concern for him, ever since that awful ordeal with those men who ambushed the two of you.”

  “I needed to make things right, that’s all,” Sierra insisted, telling herself that it would be best—or at least less painful for Ace when she disappeared—if she didn’t let on how close the two of them had gotten. “I felt bad about buying into Selina’s story in the first place about why she wanted to hire me and even worse about getting Ace hurt when we ran into my—ah—those troublemakers that were trailing me.” Hating the idea of near-strangers judging her father’s gambling addiction, Sierra had offered scant details to anyone but Sergeant Spencer Colton about Ice Veins and his associates, explaining to the other Coltons only that as a bounty hunter, she occasionally dealt with the type of clientele inclined to hold grudges.

  “You sure it’s only that?” asked Ainsley, whose perceptive eyes narrowed over the rim of her wineglass.

  “Badgering t
he witness!” Grayson accused his sister with a teasing grin. “Just because you and Santiago are all hot and heavy these days doesn’t mean you have to fix up every single person within reach, too.”

  Blushing, Ainsley sent a pillow sailing toward her brother, but he caught it neatly with Rafe chuckling and Sierra trying to figure out a graceful way to change the subject.

  Never famous for her tact, she went straight for the proverbial elephant in the living room. “So how’s your father? Any change?” Noticing the siblings’ exchange of startled looks, she shrugged an explanation. “Ace has been asking and asking, trying to find out anything he can regarding his father’s condition—and yes, he absolutely does still consider Payne Colton his real dad. I’ve asked around, too, at the hospital, but you know how they are with all their privacy laws and blah, blah, blah.”

  Grayson, who’d long worked as a first responder, smiled while Ainsley shook her head and lectured, “You know, those federal laws exist for everyone’s protection.”

  “Especially with reporters out there gunning for a story,” Rafe added, his blue eyes serious, “and whoever really shot our father is still out there.”

  “Well, I’m not the press or the shooter,” Sierra said impatiently, “so will you please just tell me how he is? What should Ace expect when I take him there to see him later?”

  Grayson shook his head. “To the hospital? As in tonight? Ah, Sierra, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why on earth not?” Sierra asked the three of them, feeling the weight of their collective disapproval. “Of course Ace wants to see his father. If you had any idea how worried he’s been—”

  “We’ve all been worried.” Ainsley straightened so abruptly, the wine nearly overlapped the edge of her glass. “But you can’t. If anyone sees him there—our stepmother, for one thing—I’d hate to see her any more upset.”

  “Because she still believes Ace might be guilty?”

  “I don’t exactly know what she does or doesn’t think,” Ainsley continued, “only that she’s been confused, pulled in so many directions, with her husband lying in a coma all these months—though they’ve been seeing signs of improvement lately. Signs the neurologist is telling us he’s beginning to regain consciousness.”

  “He’s waking up?” Rafe asked. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “He’s beginning to respond to stimuli and simple requests,” Ainsley explained. “But he’s not coherent yet, not talking.”

  “Coming out of a long coma’s not like flipping the lights back on,” said Grayson, who, with his first responder’s training, had more medical knowledge than the others. “It’s more like a very slow computer reboot—only you’re never sure which circuits will come back, or in what order. Or which information and abilities might be lost forever.”

  “And Genevieve’s not going to want anything, any upset, to possibly interfere with his recovery,” Ainsley said. “But it’s not only her.”

  “Who else?” Ace demanded, appearing unexpectedly outside the study’s doorway. “Who else in the family still believes I’d really shoot Dad? Outside of Selina, that is?”

  Grayson curled a lip and shook his head. “Don’t tell me you’re counting her as family now.”

  “Yeah,” Rafe said, a growl in his voice. “Since when?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” Ace said, clearly struggling to control his temper. “I just need to know, after everything that’s happened, who it is that’s got my back now.”

  “We do, and Marlowe, Asher, all your siblings, Ace,” Ainsley insisted. “Believe me when I tell you, if I hadn’t figured it would have overwhelmed you, this place would’ve been packed to the rafters with your supporters tonight. I promise you, it was all I could do to fend the others off.”

  Sierra caught Ace glancing at his brothers, who nodded to confirm Ainsley’s claim, and her heart ached, imagining what the past months’ uncertainty must have been like for a man used to being a leader in the boardroom and among his younger siblings.

  Grimacing, Ace glanced back over his shoulder before quietly closing the study door behind him. “Nova and I—we had a really good first talk, and Nikolas was a real rock for her. He mostly stayed quiet, but he seems like a solid guy.”

  “They’re great together,” Ainsley assured him. “But how’s Nova?”

  “She’s a little worn out after everything, so she’s resting on the sofa in there under an afghan. Nikolas is staying with her in case she needs anything.”

  While Sierra wondered whether pregnancy or the emotional meeting with her father was the real cause of Nova’s fatigue, Ainsley nodded, a look of sympathy softening her expression.

  Rising from the sofa, she approached Ace. “It wasn’t our brothers and sisters I was worried about,” she explained, “when Sierra mentioned taking you to see our father. Other than Genevieve—”

  “It’ll be late by the time we get there,” Ace broke in. “Surely, she’ll be back at home then. They aren’t letting her sleep up at the hospital, are they?”

  “I can’t imagine they are, but reporters never sleep,” Ainsley reminded him. “They just plant stringers around the lobby, with their little cameras, to keep an eye out for your appearance.”

  “You let Sierra and me worry about getting around the damned reporters,” Ace said, glancing Sierra’s way for support.

  This would be the time, Sierra realized, a flutter of trepidation mingling with the chilled bubbles in her stomach. The time to say I’m bowing out now. I’ve gotten him back home, out of jail and reunited with his family like I promised.

  But the thought of blindsiding him with the news that she was taking off tonight, so soon after he’d come right out and told her he wanted her to be part of his life forever, had her nails digging into the palm of her free hand as she told him, “I’ll get you in there, Ace. You have my word on it.”

  Ainsley frowned, head shaking at them. “Be realistic, Ace. Do you really think the hospital’s going to allow you two in our father’s room after visiting hours, unsupervised, especially when everybody knows you were accused of shooting him?”

  “Why not wait?” Rafe suggested. “Get a good night’s sleep tonight first, and I’ll take you tomorrow.”

  “That’s right,” Ainsley pleaded, “and it’ll give me a chance to make a few calls in the morning, smooth things over before you go.”

  Sierra had to force herself not to roll her eyes at their advice. The kind of advice one might expect from cautious, sensible people like a chief financial officer and a corporate attorney.

  But not a bounty hunter. Or not one like her, at any rate, who couldn’t afford to waste time cooling her heels around Nowheresville, Arizona, waiting to get her i’s dotted and her t’s crossed.

  After tossing back the last swallow of her sparkling water, she rose from the sectional and dug the car keys from her pocket. Ignoring the others’ startled glances toward the jingling, she looked directly into Ace’s confused eyes and said, “C’mon, cowboy, stick with me—and let’s find out the rewards that can come with a willingness to seek forgiveness rather than permission.”

  Chapter 10

  “How about if I drive?” Ace asked as they stepped out of the elevator into the underground garage. He pulled the keys to his silver Porsche, which he’d grabbed from his study, from the pocket of the leather jacket he’d had at the condo. “My car hasn’t been driven in over a month, and it’s not good for the engine to let it sit too long.”

  In truth, he suspected that one of his brothers—probably Rafe, who knew how much Ace prized the convertible—had probably taken it on a spin or two to keep the car in good running order for him, but Ace was itching to get behind the wheel again. To once more feel some semblance of control in his own life.

  “Much as I’d love to humor you,” Sierra said, “you have to know, reporters will be on the
lookout for a vehicle you’re known to drive. Which doesn’t exactly make it a good choice when we’re trying to keep a low profile. But if you want to drive my beater...” Tossing him her Chevy’s keys, she turned toward the garage exit. “You’re more than welcome to show off your superior driving skills.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who recently mowed down Bambi’s cousin.”

  Her pretty mouth thinned, her eyes narrowing. “That was a low blow, cowboy.”

  “Probably,” he admitted with a half smile.

  “Lucky for you, I happen to appreciate a man who can deliver a decent counterpunch from time to time.”

  Knowing she was right about the Porsche attracting unwanted attention, he followed her out beneath a sky where countless stars stood out against the blackness bright as ice chips. Sierra’s head jerked toward a furtive movement hugging the ground in the shadow of the warehouse across the street.

  “Coyote, probably down out of the foothills,” he said, identifying it with a glance.

  “Predators are always so much closer than we imagine,” she said, zipping her jacket a little higher, “but as long as they stick to hunting things that creep and crawl, it’s not the hairy ones that worry me.”

  As they approached her car, he pushed the button to unlock it, wondering what she was hinting at and why she still seemed so skittish.

  Before he could ask, she abruptly changed the subject, saying, “So tell me about Nova. What was your first impression?”

  Buckling in, he smiled to himself, warmed by the thought of his expectant flesh-and-blood daughter—his child, carrying his grandchild—curled up fast asleep on the sofa in his study. “That I’ve somehow won the lottery without realizing I’d ever bought a ticket. I realize of course it’s early days, but she seems to have an amazing spirit—and a generous heart, to welcome a father into it who hasn’t been in her life up until now.”