Ace struggled to swallow, feeling as if a walnut had lodged inside his throat, shell and all. “Yeah,” he said, his voice strained. “Of course I can do that. For Dad, and you and all of our siblings. And Genevieve, of course.” Even if his stepmother didn’t completely trust him again, he knew she’d been through hell of late and bore her no ill will.
Shaking it off, he asked, “So are you heading back to the ranch to get some rest now, or over to the office? Because if you don’t mind, I could use a ride. I need to catch a shower and a few hours’ sleep before I—”
“I’m afraid we aren’t done here, Ace,” she said, straightening in her seat and putting on what Ace recognized from all the years they’d lived and worked together as her lawyer face. Which often meant she was about to lay some hard truth on him.
Bracing himself, he asked, “What is it?”
“A lot happened while you were away,” she said before cutting to the chase, “but specifically, we need to talk about—about your biological mother.”
His heart kicked in his chest, since that was the last thing he’d expected. “You mean—you’ve found the nurse who switched me with—with our parents’ real son?”
“We’re almost one hundred percent positive we know who she is. Only she hasn’t lived under the name Luella Smith in decades. And she’s come a long way from the young maternity nurse and single mother she once—”
“Who is this woman? Where is she?” he demanded, his head spinning under a barrage of questions.
Her shoulders tense, Ainsley blew out an audible breath. “I know this is going to come as a tremendous shock, Ace, and I’m so sorry, especially after everything you’ve been through.”
“Please don’t pussyfoot around it. I need to know the truth. Now.”
Her gaze softening, she nodded. “She’s here, in Mustang Valley. She’s been in the area for years now. And I’m afraid you know her.”
“Her name, Ainsley,” he said through clenched teeth.
“It’s Micheline,” she told him. “Micheline Anderson.”
“But that’s—That can’t be right.” The cafeteria’s outer walls seemed to whirl around him. Or maybe it was just his head, because this was impossible. “That Being Your Best You motivational speaker woman? The one who owns the Affirmation Alliance Center just outside town?”
“Yes, I’m afraid that’s her. And I’m sorry to tell you, the news is even worse than that. What she’s been doing—the talks, the acts of charity, and her corporate training sessions—might all look good on the surface, but she’s about helping herself and not self-help. Most of her followers have no idea. They’re brainwashed to thinks it’s all legit, but there’s a core group that’s been funneling money from various illegal schemes back to her.”
A buzzing started in his ears as she told him about what she and Santiago had gone through at the Marriage Institute—and what they’d discovered. But as horrifying as it was to imagine his sister having been in danger, his brain still couldn’t accept that the same woman he’d occasionally crossed paths with at cocktail parties for charitable events, an attractive, older blonde who dressed for success and always seemed to attract a horde of eager admirers.
Though he’d never been especially impressed by the platitudes she spouted as if they were nuggets of ancient wisdom, he had to ask himself, if she were really his biological mother, wouldn’t she have at least have been curious enough to try to make conversation with him—or even occasionally look his way?
“Are you listening to me, Ace?” Ainsley was looking at him strangely. “I was just telling you how our IT guy, Daniel—”
“I know who Daniel is, for heaven’s sake.”
“—traced back that email saying that you’re not a real Colton back to that dark web geek who sent it, Harley Watts. Spencer says Watts still isn’t talking, but—”
His head spinning, Ace blurted, “How does any of this connect Micheline back to me?”
“Watts is one of those AAG cult members, it turns out. Micheline’s not admitting that she knew anything to do with him sending out those emails or has any connection whatsoever, but there’s no refuting those photographs. You can see for yourself from the photos, if you disregard the style and age changes, that Micheline is definitely Luella Smith.”
“But if it’s true, if she really switched me for the real Ace Colton—” It would never feel less than surreal to say that “—what could she be up to now, exposing her own crimes forty years later?”
“That’s what terrified me so much about overhearing her saying it’s time to put her big plan into motion. What does she have in store for us?”
“Whatever it is,” Ace said grimly, “I have absolutely no doubt it’s bad news for our family. And maybe not only the ones we know about.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, “that we still don’t know what she’s done with—with the child that she stole. Where the devil is our brother, and how does he figure into her scheme?”
Ace knew that his siblings had hired a private investigator in an attempt to find “Luella Smith’s” missing son. They’d even come across someone claiming to be the true heir, but that guy had turned out to be nothing but a phony opportunist.
“We still haven’t been able to track down our—our real brother,” said Ainsley, “only I can tell you we’ve learned that Micheline did raise a son, Jake Anderson.”
“Just the one child?” It had occurred to Ace that it was possible that he could have other siblings, siblings that his biological mother had chosen to raise.
“Only one,” Ainsley confirmed, “a son whom she’s estranged from—and who’s missing from the area since he was seventeen.”
“But this Jake Anderson was raised right here, in Mustang Valley?” Ace waited for his sister’s nod before adding, “And he’s my age?”
“As far as we can determine.”
“That’s odd. That I don’t know him, I mean. You’d have thought we would’ve crossed paths growing up, wouldn’t you? In school or playing sports? You know how it is around here. Small enough that everyone’s at least aware of others in the same age range.”
Ainsley nodded. “I do. But I also know how isolated, how insular those AAG people are. What I saw at the Marriage Institute...”
“Did someone actually hurt you there?” Ace asked, his protective hackles rising as he realized that she must have glossed over some of the more harrowing details in her earlier account. “I would’ve thought I could at least trust Santiago to keep you safe.” He knew that his sister and the PI had a past, but it had been obvious, even from his distracted vantage, that there were still lingering feelings between the two.
Ainsley waved off his concern. “Whatever we went through, it was more than worth it to figure out what those charlatans were really up to and how Micheline was connected. And as far as Santiago goes—he was...he is amazing.”
“So you two are back together?” At her nod, he smiled. “Well that’s some good news, at least. Isn’t it?”
A little blush dawned in her cheeks. “The best.”
“Then I’m glad for you both,” he said, smiling to see his sister happy. She deserved that much and so much more, and Santiago was a good man. “But about this Jake Anderson—”
“What I was getting at,” she hurried to add, “is that with the center so far from town and full of so many of her followers eager to do her bidding, I’m betting she kept her son isolated, had him homeschooled out there so we’d never meet him.”
“Makes perfect sense, if she was trying to hide her crime—and a kidnapped child—right under our family’s noses.”
“But that still doesn’t tell us why she took him in the first place,” Ainsley said, “or how she’s involved with what’s been going on around here lately.”
“Yet you’re absolutely sure she is?”
“Oh, yes. If you’d been there to hear her, if you’d seen the sly look on that woman’s face—” Sighing in frustration, Ainsley shook her head. “We think—our siblings and I—that somehow, Micheline’s behind our father’s shooting. She probably had one of her minions do it, just the way she must’ve put Watts up to sending out that email.”
Ace’s gut told him Ainsley might be right. Bizarre as it sounded, it made a kind of twisted sense that a woman who’d hated a man enough to steal his child might still despise him enough to try to kill him, even decades later. “Why now, though? And to what end?” he asked.
“We don’t know. So far there’ve been no demands for money, no blackmail attempts or anything like that, so whatever this big plan is, we have no clue.”
“Have you confronted her and questioned her directly? Has anyone?”
Ainsley made a face. “It’s a complicated situation. I’ve spoken to the police, of course, about what I overheard, but they’re telling me it’s way too nebulous to act on. She might’ve been speaking of those seminars she does, or some other project related to her self-help business—”
“Her cult, you mean.”
“Right,” said Ainsley. “The police are looking into her background, keeping an eye on her activities, but until they have something solid, they’d rather we don’t tip our hand by letting her know we’re on to her.”
“So we sit around waiting for this woman to do more damage?” Ace asked, hating the idea. And hating even more the idea that he might actually share this woman’s DNA. And what about his biological father? He frowned, deciding he was better off never knowing which of her hangers-on had sired him, since neither the sperm donor nor Micheline had chosen to be his parent. Neither one had put in the sweat equity the way that his true mother and father, Payne and Tessa Colton, had.
“For now, we wait,” Ainsley agreed, “and watch for her to make another mistake.”
“Well, you’ll have to forgive me,” he said sarcastically, “but after forty years of her not slipping up, I wouldn’t pin too much hope on Micheline Anderson suddenly tripping up and tipping her hand one minute before she’s ready.”
Chapter 12
Left alone inside her cramped room, Sierra fought a battle tougher than any opponent she’d ever gone up against in the ring.
But if she’d learned anything from the fugitives she’d spent so many years recapturing and taking into custody, it was that pleas, panic and desperation would only trigger the use of heavier restraints. And since she was under the care of medical practitioners convinced they were acting in her own best interest, that was likely to include some kind of drugs that would leave her in a stupor.
So gradually, she struggled to slow her breathing, to ride out the pain and nausea until they dissipated. The emotions were much more difficult to master, the shock, fury and the panic she felt at the idea of her home, her very life, destroyed while she lay here trapped and helpless to fight back. And helpless to prevent the violence from spilling over.
A fresh wave of dizziness engulfed her as her mind exploded with memories of last night’s drive-by shooting. She heard the screeching of the black car’s tires and saw the light reflected off a lowering window. She stiffened as gunfire erupted all around her. The next thing she knew, the back of her head was throbbing and the cameraman’s blood was hot and slick on her hands. Blood that so easily could have been her own or even Ace’s.
Her body started shaking, her imagination racked with what-ifs. The only way to keep herself from screaming was to take refuge in a memory of the love and support she’d felt among the siblings earlier last night in Ace’s condo. She remembered the feelings of warmth and safety as she’d watched the way the family had enfolded itself around Ace’s newly discovered, pregnant daughter and welcomed the young woman into the Colton clan like a protective hug. Remembered the little tug of envy she’d felt, wondering what it might be like to be claimed as Nova had been, and know she’d forever belong.
Closing her eyes, Sierra then recalled the feeling of Ace’s strong, warm arms encircling her, the safety and the satisfaction she’d felt sleeping, bounded by his embrace. And how he’d admitted, right out loud, that he wanted a future with her. Words she could honestly never recall hearing and had, in fact, disdained, imagining them the stuff of drugstore greeting cards and made-for-TV movies. Not the kind of world she lived in, where people used such sticky sentiments only to get close enough to take advantage.
She shuddered as a more distant memory caught her unawares, her skin crawling before she was able to push thoughts of her childhood aside. Better to forget the past, and not to think too much about the future, either.
Instead, she savored the magic of those perfect moments she’d had with Ace, wrapping herself in daydreams of an entirely different kind of life. A life she knew that, for a woman like her, was no more realistic than the castle, crown and crinoline fantasies she knew so many girls indulged in when they were little. But they were pretty enough dreams, and they helped her arrange the mask she knew she’d need if she ever hoped to escape this hospital—and get away from Mustang Valley before even more trouble came calling.
What felt like hours later, she passed her first test, conducting herself calmly and reasonably when a dark-haired neurologist named Dr. Amir came to test her visual acuity, her reflexes and ask her some basic questions about the date and time of year, where she was, and what had brought her here to the hospital. Though her vision remained a bit blurred, with a tendency to double if she turned her head too quickly, the only thing that really gave her pause was when the man asked her to tell him her name.
Noticing how intently the nurse with the asymmetrical haircut was watching her from behind her glasses, Sierra frowned before reminding herself she had to play the game. “It’s Iris. Iris Higgins.”
She then cut a look to the nurse, who gave Sierra a small nod of approval. But Dr. Amir was frowning at the nurse.
“I see no signs of combativeness, no disorientation that would for a moment warrant the use of any form of restraints on this patient. And this—” he said, his voice faintly accented as he gestured angrily at the zip tie still attached to the railing. “If it’s true, as you said, that a visitor placed it here, without medical direction, that visitor should have been removed from the facility at once—and the restraint immediately removed.”
“Yes, of course.” The nurse flushed fiercely. “I’m aware of our protocol on restraints, but I have a call in her admitting physician about a possible...alternative, because there were—there are extenuating circumstances. You may have noticed the guard standing watch outside her room.”
“My room,” Sierra protested. “Excuse me, both of you, I’m right here, so why not try including me in this conversation? You know, like a person?”
“My apologies.” Dr. Amir’s warm brown eyes looked convincingly remorseful. “I’m afraid it can be an occupational hazard since I deal with so many...incapacitated patients.”
Returning his attention to the nurse, he said, “I didn’t notice a police uniform on that guard, so that tells me this patient is no prisoner.”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” the nurse explained, casting an apologetic glance Sierra’s way. “It’s just that the Coltons want her protected—and from what I was told by the police sergeant who stopped by this morning, they have very good reason to fear for what might happen if she were to...act rashly.”
“Ah, the Coltons. I see,” Dr. Amir said before shaking his head. “I’m aware of the family’s recent...difficulties, and I have great appreciation for the generous endowment Colton Oil has given to the hospital in the past. But surely, that does not mean we can allow their desires to compromise our professional ethics. Now, I have another patient to assess, Nurse Bishop, or I would see to this matter myself now, but I will stop by before I leave the hospital, and when I do, I will certainly expect to f
ind Miss Higgins here completely unrestrained. Do you understand?”
“I do, Doctor, but if you’d seen and heard her earlier, she was—”
“She’s absolutely right. I was confused and disoriented when I first woke up,” Sierra cut in, throwing the nurse a bone in the hope of getting the woman on her side. “But my head’s clear now. I’m feeling so much better. And I—I completely understand that everyone here has my best interest at heart.”
Dr. Amir smiled and nodded. “We’re agreed, then. I’d like you to stay another night for observation, rest and to reassess you neurologically to make certain everything’s still heading in the right direction. Mostly, it’s a precaution, since your CT scan looked clear. However, if you continue to improve at this rate, I believe you can expect to be released tomorrow.”
Continuing to play the role of the world’s most cooperative patient, Sierra offered her most angelic smile and thanked him, knowing she had no intention of hanging around waiting for anybody—not even the best intentioned—to decide her future.
* * *
Though Ace hated to leave Sierra on her own at the hospital, he knew that she’d be safe, under Callum’s watchful eye. More than that, she needed rest and time to cool off and come to grips with her new reality. He trusted she’d be safe, as well, since the nurse he’d spoken to outside her room had promised to wait until she was settled—or preferably out cold before cutting the zip tie that kept her from once more attempting to climb out of her bed.
Since he, too, needed rest, along with a shave, a shower and a change of clothes, he asked Ainsley to drop him at his now-vacant condo on her way to Colton Oil, where she insisted she had a couple of pressing work issues she needed to deal with. Though he’d tried convincing his sister that no one would fault her for taking a personal day in light of what had happened, she only smiled and told him, “It’ll be fine. Marlowe’s cutting short her maternity leave to help out.”
Hunting the Colton Fugitive Page 16