“Then he didn’t—he wasn’t breaking his own marriage vows?” Ace didn’t know why, under the circumstances, that came as such a relief, yet somehow it did matter to him.
“That’s all you care about. Your own father’s precious reputation, his so-called honor, not my mother’s.”
“Of course I’m concerned, and I’m sorry I didn’t make the time. I’m sorry, too, for what happened with her and with your family. It’s a sad thing, but still, that gave you no right to—”
“You’re just as bad as your father was, making his excuses when I went to the boardroom and demanded that he hand over all the raises that my poor, stupidly deluded, foolishly loyal mother had always been too meek to ask for while she was alive.”
“Demanded with a gun?” Ace asked, thinking that if Kyle had approached his father differently, with a job application in hand maybe, Payne Colton would have surely, under the circumstances, shown compassion for the clearly troubled and newly bereaved young man.
“You know what he did? Your f-father?” Kyle was sobbing now, snot and tears making a mess of a face twisted with anguish. “He laughed at me, told me this wasn’t one of my stupid video games when I pointed my pistol at him. Said I was nothing but an embarrassment, a damned waste of potential. Th-that my mother—the mother he’d used until he had no more use for, had confessed she was ashamed of what I had be-become...”
Sobs punctuated the confession, at once piteous and revolting.
“And that was when I shot him,” he burst out, sticking out his chest and telling Ace triumphantly. “When I shot him and I shot him—only this was so much better than any game I’ve played.”
As he explained it, Kyle’s eyes went so wide with excitement that Ace made out the rings of white around the darker irises. It was that detail that would haunt him later, whenever he thought back to the final words of O’Neill’s confession. Words he knew would stay with him forever.
“The hot spatter of your enemy’s hot blood on your skin—the smell of it, the taste of that red mist on the air,” O’Neill said, his voice going deadly calm. “There’s freaking nothing like it, Colton. Nothing like it in this world.”
* * *
Sierra pressed her hand to Ace’s back, where she felt the pounding of his heart, the shaking in his muscles. At any moment, she feared, his control would snap and he would launch himself at this unhinged little nut job who had caused his family so much pain.
“Take a breath. Step away now,” she murmured.
At the same time, Spencer pulled Kyle backward. “Okay, O’Neill. We’ve heard plenty from you for now.” He then proceeded to advise him of his rights before adding, “We’ve got a bit of a walk back to our SUVs—since a Porsche is blocking the road just downhill.”
“That’d be our ride, broken down, I’m afraid,” Sierra explained to the officers, since Ace seemed too stunned to respond. “O’Neill’s in the yellow Camaro over behind that wall—”
“I’m betting that’s gonna turn out to be that stolen classic, Sergeant,” said the younger officer. “Remember that ’69 Fred Newcomb reported missing from his garage?”
“It’s a ’69 for sure,” Sierra confirmed, holding on to Ace’s arm as the two of them followed both officers, who escorted their defeated-looking charge toward the police vehicles.
“We can sort that all out back at the station—”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you pigs,” the prisoner blurted.
Neither officer responded, but Sierra suspected that both were smiling inside, since, from what she understood of the law, O’Neill’s uncoerced, recorded confession was more than enough to hold him while they gathered physical evidence from the hospital and ghost town crime scenes to shore up their case against him.
Trailing behind, Sierra nudged Ace, keeping her voice low as she asked him, “You hanging in there all right? I know it must be hard, hearing how—”
“I have to tell them. All of them. My—my family needs to know. They need to understand what happened, that it was all—I don’t know—misplaced grief mixed up with resentment for—” He shook his head. “But I still don’t understand how any of this could be related to the email sent about the switch-up in the hospital with the real Ace Colton or my birth mother being Micheline Anderson—”
“Micheline Anderson,” Sierra echoed, not letting on for the moment that she’d already heard of the woman from Ainsley and his brothers at Ace’s condo.
“Ainsley told me earlier they’d figured it out while I was still in hiding.”
Sierra heaved a sighed, wondered how he was holding it together. “That’s a lot to absorb, I’m sure, but let’s say we table that discussion for now and focus on watching our steps walking through here. I don’t know about you, but I’ve taken enough tumbles for one day.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, realizing that he needed her support now more than ever to deal with the emotional shock of these revelations. At least until she could get him back to his family, so he could digest O’Neill’s confession and the identity of his biological mother before taking stock of the questions still hanging over him.
Questions whose answers she wouldn’t be around to help him deal with. But he had his siblings, a wealth of them, and a daughter, too, now. So why were her eyes filling at the thought of her own absence?
She didn’t have long to focus on that before they reached the two police vehicles and Spencer asked Officer Donovan to transport O’Neill back to the station.
“I’ll be taking these two separately,” he told the younger officer.
“Yes, sir,” Donovan replied before loading the still-cuffed and silent prisoner into the rear of his own unit.
“You, in the front with me,” Spencer said, pointing to Sierra with a look that had her stomach tightening. “We have some things we need to talk about.”
“I see my running off from the hospital hasn’t much improved his opinion about bounty hunters,” she said to Ace after he strode toward the driver’s side. “He looks plenty mad.”
This time it was Ace who clapped a hand onto her shoulder before leaning down to kiss her, just above the ear. “He does have reason. You have no idea what he went through, getting permission to run that phony press event to announce your supposed murder last night. All to ensure you wouldn’t really end up on a refrigerated slab.”
Grimacing, she shrugged off his touch, gritting her teeth at the reminder that he still thought he knew best how to protect her.
“Hey,” Ace said. “I’m still on your side, remember?” As he opened the door for her, the SUV’s interior light lit his face. Though in need of a shave and lined with strain, it still held traces of the confidence and optimism of the man who’d once led a billion-dollar oil corporation. The man who’d claimed to love her. “Still hoping you’ll give me another chance to convince you that I meant what I said before, about wanting to make a life with you. We don’t have to rush things if you don’t want, but I’d still love nothing more than—”
“We’ll talk later, Ace,” she promised as she climbed inside.
They weren’t long underway, the ride far less punishing in the four-wheel-drive SUV, before Spencer spoke. But to her surprise he began by asking, “How are you feeling? Head doing any better?”
She cut a suspicious look his way. “I’ll live, but what gives? Trying to soften me up before you chew me out?”
“Oh, you deserve a chewing out, all right, scaring the nursing supervisor who’d been sworn to keep your secret and several of us at the station half to death when we heard you’d gone missing,” Spencer said irritably before blowing out a noisy breath. “But then, I got to thinking how I would’ve felt about it if I’d gotten knocked out after getting shot at, only to come around and find out the authorities had taken it upon themselves to tell everybody I’d been murdered. Oh, and by the way, my home had just been burned to ashes, and I’m go
ing to have to go by some name I’ve never heard of and hide myself away for life. It’s a hell of a lot to expect anyone to deal with all at once.”
“So you’re saying you forgive me?” It was a big ask, she knew, but a girl could dream.
“I’m telling you I understand, let’s put it that way. That’s not to say you haven’t made a damned fine mess of things, since you were seen leaving the hospital by some upstanding citizen who snapped your photo on a cell phone and decided to call in a hot tip to the TV news producer I phoned last night about how she’d been duped about your so-called murder.”
Sierra sucked in a startled breath, her pulse fluttering at the realization that whatever safe span of time she’d thought their cover story might have bought her had been blown.
“Which, by the way,” Spencer continued, “has dropped my future credibility with the local media into the toilet.”
“Have they reported Sierra’s still alive yet?” Ace blurted, sounding rattled from his spot in the backseat.
“No, no, they haven’t,” Spencer said, “but it took my promise of my next big exclusive, a cashed-in favor the producer had forgotten and an all-out plea for Sierra’s life to get her to hold off.”
“Thank you,” both Sierra and Ace said at once.
“Save your thanks,” Spencer said gruffly. “Because I’m afraid that idiot, that guy that snapped your photo in the first place, is like a dog with a bone with what he’s decided is his big scoop. He’s posted it all over all social media, yelling about fake news, a police conspiracy to only make it seem like some shady secret government operative named Sierra Madden has been murdered.”
“Government operative?” Sierra echoed. “Where on earth did he come up with that nonsense?”
“Turns out this guy’s big time into conspiracy theories, and he’s thrilled to have stumbled onto a little of what passes for social currency in his online circles.”
From the rear seat, Ace cursed over the implications, and looking back at him, Sierra said, “My sentiments, exactly. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for making your job harder, Sergeant, and sorry to you both for being so ungrateful when I do understand that you’ve—you’ve been doing the best that you know how to help me.”
“It’s only because you’re well worth saving.” Though there was a metal gridded divider separating the front seat from the back, the sincerity in Ace’s voice came through loud and clear. “Never forget that for a moment.”
Glancing back, she saw in his eyes how much he believed it. But how would he feel when more killers came for her, endangering the family he had loved far longer?
Chapter 16
Though Ace had nothing to hide, Michael Seaver nonetheless arrived at the police station later that night to guide Ace through that evening’s police interview. As sharply dressed as ever, in one of his trademark designer suits and glasses, Seaver deftly steered Ace around any legal gray areas that he might be wading into while recounting the events that had taken place that afternoon and evening. He also helped to refocus Ace when his mind repeatedly drifted during questioning.
“Sorry. It’s been a hell of a day,” Ace said, pushing back the mostly untouched coffee he’d been offered to look from Seaver to veteran Detective P.J. Doherty, who’d been called in to handle his interview. Though it wasn’t a stretch to say he was still reeling from recent events, Ace was far more distracted by the thought of what might be going on with Sierra in the next room.
Once she’d finished answering questions, would they tell her she was free to go?
After all, just before coming in here, he’d managed to pull aside Spencer, who’d been on his way to formally interview Kyle O’Neill, to ask, “So after Sierra’s interviewed, will you take her back to the hospital since she was never officially released?”
Spencer’s look had been dubious as he shook his head. “Is there really any point? You know damned well she’d just find her way out again, and considering the fact that her cover’s been blown—”
“Then what about protective custody? Or my custody? I’ll take her out to the ranch and keep her there, where she’ll be safe.” Though Ace still felt a little strange about returning to the mansion where he’d been raised after such a long absence, he was willing to put aside those feelings, and his lingering worries about any potential awkwardness with Genevieve, for the sake of Sierra’s well-being.
Spencer made a scoffing sound. “Come on, man. No judge is signing off on that, nor should they. Your lady friend’s a grown adult, more than capable of making her own decisions, and I see absolutely zero indication that she’s a threat to her own welfare or that of others.”
“But if she leaves, those hired goons’ll hunt her down. As smart and resourceful as she is, we both know they’ll kill her.”
“And if you keep her here against her will, what’ll you have killed, Ace?” Spencer had asked him quietly. “I think maybe you need to consider that, as well.”
With a sinking feeling, Ace realized Spencer was one hundred percent right. But what consolation would that be if she ended up murdered when there was something he might’ve done to stop it?
By the time he’d finally finished with his own interview, Ace could see that his attorney’s irritated glances had grown decidedly more pointed.
“I know you’ve got to be rattled after everything that’s happened, but honestly, man, that was embarrassing, having to hear Detective Doherty repeat every question two or three times to get an answer,” Seaver said as the two of them strode down the hall toward the station’s front lobby and exit. “What’s the matter with you? You should be celebrating.”
“Celebrating?” Ace echoed dully.
“Now that O’Neill’s blurted out that he was the one responsible for your father’s shooting, it’s obvious the police have no interest in giving you any further grief.”
“I still don’t understand how O’Neill managed to set me up to take the fall.”
“More than likely, while watching your father to see when the best time would be to catch him alone at Colton Oil headquarters, he started picking up on your comings and goings, too—”
“And decided I’d make a damned fine scapegoat when he somehow heard about that email Harley Watts sent for whoever was pulling his strings at the AAG—”
“The AAG? So he’s confessed?”
Ace shook his head. “He’s not talking yet that I’m aware of, but getting back to O’Neill, after I’d been ousted from my position as Colton Oil CEO, he must have figured it was the perfect time to make his move.”
Seaver shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
“Yeah, it does.” Ace nodded. “Especially considering how at the hospital O’Neill was talking about setting it up to look as if I’d killed my father and then myself out of guilt as some kind of payback for driving his own father away from his family.”
“That’s some pretty twisted reasoning,” Seaver agreed, “but in light of today’s events, I’m sure Sergeant Colton and the DA will get it right this time.”
“So my legal issues are over,” Ace said, “but my family still has so many questions that need answering.”
“Let’s climb one mountain at a time, Ace,” Seaver said, clapping him on the shoulder and offering one of those slick smiles he seemed to keep on hand for such occasions. “Can’t you admit that today we’ve conquered Everest?”
Ace wasn’t so certain about the we part, since he hadn’t noticed Seaver helping Sierra and him chase down his father’s would-be killer. But he let it go and nodded before spotting something in the lobby that had him blurting, “Thanks, Michael. We’ll touch base tomorrow, but I’ve gotta run now.”
“Hey, where’re you going?” Seaver called after him as Ace took off.
But the words scarcely registered as Ace hurried toward Sierra, who was sitting with Ainsley in the lobby area. The two were leaning f
orward, their heads close. As he approached, he saw that his younger sister, dressed casually this evening in jeans and a striped sweater, was holding Sierra’s hand, clearly offering her comfort.
Even more surprisingly, Sierra was accepting that kindness. But then, she looked utterly spent, her head drooping so that her tangled hair partially obscured her face. Her clothing, too, was dusty and rumpled and her shoulders slumped after her ordeal in the ghost town. Grateful as he was to see her still here, he forced himself to slow his approach, half-afraid that he might somehow frighten her into bolting—or stiffening her spine and insisting she was ready to take on all comers.
“Ace,” Ainsley said when she spotted him before coming to her feet and wrapping him in a warm hug. “Sierra’s filled me in on all the details. Are you—is it really true? Is this nightmare all over for you?”
“We can talk at home. I’m bushed.”
“That’s why I’ve come,” Ainsley told them, “to take you back to the ranch, where everyone can be together. And before you give me any flak about it, I wanted to let you know that Genevieve’s given her blessing. She—she’s heard about what happened today at the hospital, how you saved Dad from that horrible man—and she says it’s long past time that you came home.”
“That—that’s wonderful,” he said, gratitude flowing through his veins like cool rain on the parched desert. Still, he couldn’t keep his worried gaze from moving to Sierra.
“And I’m happy to say Sierra’s already accepted my invitation,” Ainsley added.
A warm burst of relief flowing through him, Ace reached out to offer her his hand. When she let him help her to her feet, he embraced her, murmuring, “Thank you,” into her ear. “Thank you for still being here. You don’t know how worried I was that you’d simply cut and run.”
Hunting the Colton Fugitive Page 21