She had no business losing her head around Slade Kent, a man who made clear his mission was to uncover her family’s buried secrets. While she was all for exposing the truth and finding the mastermind behind all the recent trouble at the ranch, she didn’t like the idea that Slade’s personal agenda could threaten people she loved.
She needed to stay in control, keep her head in the game and her eyes open when she was around Slade. She had to protect her family’s interests. That meant not letting her physical attraction to him cloud her judgment. Problem was, the more time she spent with Slade, the more of his underlying warmth and kindness she saw and the stronger the attraction grew.
* * *
Following the directions Slade had downloaded, they drove out to Brookdale Hospice with Amanda navigating and Slade behind the wheel. He parked their rental car outside a Spanish-style ranch house with well-tended landscaping and an inviting water fountain near the front door. Amanda had to admit the hospice was beautiful and had a calming ambiance. After getting Cheyenne from her car seat, she followed Slade inside and waited while he inquired at the front desk for Scottie Breen’s room number. He was handed two guest badges, and he clipped one on his jacket as he started down the hall toward the patient rooms.
The interior of the hospice was decorated in warm colors that evoked images of sunshine, summer flowers and sand dunes. Community rooms were tastefully appointed with comfortable furniture, aquariums full of neon fish and lush green plants. Even though this place had all the trappings of home and hearth, Amanda’s heart still ached as she caught glimpses of tired families and withering patients in the rooms they passed.
Her own father had lost most of the color in his face, too much weight, and the vitality that she remembered from her childhood. Accepting that Jethro could be near the end of his life was harder than she’d ever imagined. He had always been larger than life to her, maybe because of all his scandals and tragedies. Someone who had lived through so much couldn’t possibly be taken out by an illness, even one as vicious as cancer.
She drew a restorative breath as Slade stopped at room 133 and raised his hand to knock. A weak voice bade them to come in, and they entered the dark room slowly, allowing their eyes to adjust to the dim light.
“Mr. Breen?” Slade said. “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m Slade Kent. We talked on the phone earlier?”
“Right, right,” the frail man on the bed rasped. “Please come in. You can open the blinds a bit if you wish.”
Slade stepped over to the window and angled the blinds enough to ease the gloom in the room. Amanda stood by the door for a moment taking in Scottie Breen’s sunken eyes and thin arms. His lips were dry and cracked, but he offered a warm smile when he saw Cheyenne. “Oh, my! Who is this cherub?”
Amanda returned a polite grin. “My daughter, Cheyenne.”
Breen looked at Slade and waved a hand toward the two chairs beside his bed. “Please sit. I didn’t know you were...bringing your wife and daughter, but I’m...happy for the visitors. I don’t see many folks anymore, and...it gets a bit lonely.”
Slade waited for her to sit before he lowered himself on the other chair and cleared his throat. “Actually, this isn’t my wife. This is Amanda.” He paused a beat, his expression hesitant before adding, “Amanda Colton.”
Breen’s eyes widened, and dismay firmed his mouth. “Colton? You brought a Colton here? I told you what I had to say was...volatile. Is this your...idea of a joke?”
“Mr. Breen, it’s not Slade’s fault,” Amanda cut in. “He tried to dissuade me, but I insisted on coming. If you have information about my family, I have a right to hear it. Even if it’s not pretty.”
Breen sighed and sank deeper into his pillow. “Ms. Colton, my purpose in contacting Mr. Kent was...not to do harm to your family. I bear you...no ill will. I don’t wish to...cause you pain. But I’m afraid what I have to say...will do just that.”
“I can handle it.” She sat straighter and stroked Cheyenne’s back. “I’m strong.”
Breen looked away, his eyes rheumy, and began slowly. “Very well. For years, I worked with a single goal in mind—getting the man I worked for elected, then re-elected. In that capacity, I allowed myself...to shut out everything in the periphery, all the...consequences of my actions, in order to focus...straight ahead on my goal.” He sighed wearily. “I hurt people through the years...who didn’t deserve the backlash I caused. Since being diagnosed with cancer, I’ve done a lot of soul searching. I want to come clean. I want to right as many wrongs as I can, and...I want to share the truth where...I was party to hiding facts that...never should have been hidden. Perhaps something I tell you...can shed light on...the events at your ranch.”
Slade pulled a small notebook along with a tape recorder from his jacket pocket and flipped the pad open. “May I record you?”
Breen glanced at the small recorder and gave Slade an ironic smile. “I spent my life...avoiding those things. Comments were always...off the record. Now...” He sighed his resignation. “I suppose a recording can’t...hurt me if I’m dead. And the truth needs to be said...” He nodded weakly, and Slade pressed the record button.
“Why don’t you start with the connection you mentioned on the phone between Jethro Colton and the former president Joe Colton? You claim they have some history?”
Breen coughed and wiped his mouth with a tissue. “History, yes. In fact, they’re related.”
Amanda blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say my father’s related to Joe Colton? Former President Colton?”
“They are cousins. Second cousins, I believe. Not a close family tie, but...enough of one that we...on the president’s campaign team years ago, when Joe Colton first ran for...state office in California, were concerned about...the media finding the relationship and exploiting it,” Breen explained in a labored rasp.
Slade was scribbling in his notebook. “When was this? What year?”
Breen shook his head and furrowed his brow in thought. “Long ago. At least thirty years. No, thirty-four years, I think.” He turned his glance toward Amanda. “Well before you were born.”
She nodded and pulled a toy out of the diaper bag as Cheyenne grew restless and started to fuss. “Go on. The campaign discovered a family tie to Jethro and...”
“At the time, Jethro Colton was...” Breen twisted his mouth, and his hands fluttered on his sheets.
“Mr. Breen, you don’t need to pull any punches with me.” Amanda caught the stuffed monkey Cheyenne had been chewing on when her daughter tired of it and flung it aside. “I’m aware my father has led a less than sterling life. Please, just say what you need to.”
Breen gave a tight nod. “Very well. Jethro was...trouble waiting to happen. He was a swindler, a womanizer, a down-on-his-luck drunk...and con artist who approached us, looking to make a profit...off his up-and-coming relative.” He paused, gathering his breath. “He was known to have done business with organized crime, even...ran a scam for one crime boss.”
Amanda’s gut tightened. She grappled to reconcile the father she knew with the picture of an organized crime lackey as Breen described. He couldn’t be right...
“We knew we needed to...shut him up and...sever all ties with him quickly and effectively...in order to avoid possible embarrassment or...speculation. Innuendo in the media down the road.”
She’d never heard her father talk about his life before she was born. She’d always assumed his reticence had to do with the pain of having lost Cole, his first son, under mysterious circumstances. Hearing now that Jethro had been a drunk womanizer and a con artist with ties to organized crime needled her, horrified her. While she knew he hadn’t been a saint, she felt the first misgivings about digging up her father’s dirty secrets.
“What did Joe Colton do about Jethro? How did he manage to break the ties with his long-lost cousin for all these years
?” Slade asked, leaning forward, his expression intrigued.
“Oh, Joe had nothing to do with...what happened next. He’d have frowned upon...what we did, and he...was never told.” Breen shook his head. “Joe Colton was a man of honor, and he remained so...until the end.”
Amanda’s hands grew slick with sweat. Despite her apprehension, she heard herself ask, “What did you do? What didn’t Joe Colton know?”
Breen dipped his brow over his eyes and angled a curious look at Amanda. “Did your father ever tell you how...he came to own Dead River Ranch?”
Cheyenne wiggled, and with shaky arms, Amanda repositioned her daughter on her lap. “He bought it before he married his first wife, Cole’s mother.”
Breen nodded. “Indeed he did. The sale was arranged...through a friend of mine, a broker who got him a steal on...a highly profitable ranch. A ranch previously owned by...a political crony...who stood to profit more in the long run...by selling his ranch at a loss and...helping get Joe Colton in the White House.”
When Amanda frowned her confusion, Breen waved a hand in dismissal. “Never mind that part. The sale was legal. Jethro landed the deal of the century. That’s not my point.”
Amanda and Slade exchanged a look. His asked her to be patient. Hers asked him if he believed what Breen was saying.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Breen said, turning over a frail hand. “I suppose I’m trying to soften the blow...with all of this setup, but there’s just no way...to make the truth less ugly.”
“Tell me what happened.” She clutched Cheyenne closer to her, as if to shield her daughter from what was coming. Or protect herself. “What did my father do?”
“Jethro accepted...hush money from the Colton for California Senate...slush fund, in exchange for his...complete silence and...severing all connection with Joe Colton. He was legally required to...stay away from Joe, Joe’s family and...the campaign or risk losing his entire fortune.”
Amanda stared at Breen, numb and trying to process the staggering information.
Slade shot her a worried look, then asked, “How much hush money?”
Breen’s expression was repentant. “One million dollars.”
Amanda gasped. “What?”
“Jethro Colton had nothing but debt and...creditors crawling up his—well, you know what. He accepted a cool million in...hush money and used that cash to...buy Dead River Ranch at...a fraction of its value. He’s gone on to...turn that million in hush money...into his current fortune.”
Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but Breen wasn’t finished destroying her illusions about her father.
“But you don’t get as rich...as Jethro Colton...simply raising cattle.”
A greasy pit settled in her gut.
“Then how—”
“He’s laundering money through...his natural gas business for...Vinny Rizono.”
Amanda felt cold to the bone. She pressed her cheek to Cheyenne’s head and fought a wave of nausea. “Are you saying that everything my family owns, everything we eat and wear and call home, was built with dirty money? He sold his family connection to Joe Colton and grew that million helping a crime boss hide money?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I know that’s difficult to—”
“Difficult? We owe our entire family fortune to a cover-up! To ill-gotten gains! To lies and criminals and false appearances—” Her voice cracked, and she blinked back tears. She didn’t care about the money, per se, but the deception and secrets that had fed her and put a roof over her head made her ill. “Are...are you sure? Why should I believe you?”
“I’m sure. I’ve kept tabs on Jethro...through the years. Hired an investigator. Kept a dossier, in case...”
“In case he broke your agreement and tried to cause trouble for President Colton,” she finished for him, her voice as strangled sounding as Breen’s.
The former campaign manager nodded.
“Amanda?” Slade’s voice cut through the fog of disbelief and hurt that engulfed her.
She raised her gaze to his, and the concern that lit his blue eyes burrowed deep inside her. Steadied her. Rooted her when she felt ready to fly apart.
She swallowed hard and gave him a reassuring nod. “I’m okay. I mean, I’m not okay with this—” she waved a hand toward Breen “—but I’m not going to fall apart on you. It’ll just take time to...sort it out. Cripes. If that’s even possible. How do you sort out the fact that your whole life has been built on a lie? On tainted money?”
Slade bent to pick up the stuffed monkey Cheyenne had tossed on the floor again and handed it to her. Cheyenne chuckled at him as she took the toy with her slobbery hand.
What did this revelation mean for Cheyenne’s future? How could she continue living at the ranch, raising her daughter on the estate that Jethro had purchased with ill-gotten gains? She needed to tell Gabby and Cath, too. But how could she break the news to them now, with Gabby’s wedding in just a few days and Cath expecting a baby? She sighed heavily and looked up to find both Slade and Breen watching her closely.
“If my father still has ties to this Vinny Rizono character, if you have proof he’s helping launder money, why not tell the police?”
“And bring the mob...down on me? Stir the media up where...they might draw the connection to Joe Colton that...I’d worked years to keep quiet?” Breen shook his head. “No. It served no purpose...for me or Joe Colton to stir that pot.”
“Your silence is a crime in and of itself. Knowledge of a crime...” Slade arched an eyebrow.
“So arrest me. I’ll likely be dead...before Christmas.”
“And so will my father,” Amanda said softly, her heart heavy.
“Do you want to take a break? Go get some coffee or something while I finish the interview?” Slade asked.
She snapped her eyebrows together. “No. I said I’d be all right.”
“I think you...should go. In fact, I won’t...say anymore with you in the room.”
Slade shot Breen a startled look. “There’s more?”
He nodded gravely. “Afraid so.”
“Something more damning? About my father?” Amanda’s face tingled as the blood drained from her cheeks and left her cold with dread. “I’m not leaving. I need to hear what you know about my father.”
Breen shook his head. “No. You don’t need...to hear this. I won’t be...responsible for hurting you...any more than I have.”
“Mr. Breen—” she countered, but he held up a shaky hand.
“I won’t.” He turned to Slade. “I’ll say nothing else...until she’s gone. You shouldn’t have...brought her.”
Slade faced her with an appeal already in his expression, and Amanda tightened her jaw. When he drew a breath to speak, she interjected, “No! I want to hear what he has on Jethro.”
Scrubbing both hands over his face, Slade slumped back in his chair. His mouth firmed in a thin line and he furrowed his forehead in the way she’d seen so often that meant he was deliberating.
Amanda squared her shoulders, letting Slade know silently she wouldn’t be bullied. When her daughter squawked restlessly, she bounced Cheyenne on her knee.
Finally, Slade stood, a level stare fixed on her, and hitched his head toward the door. “Can I speak to you privately for a moment?”
She glanced to Breen, whose chin was stubbornly set, his fingers gripping his sheets. Clearly they were at a stalemate. She knew before she joined Slade at the door for their private powwow how it would go.
“Amanda, he’s not going to talk with you in the room. We flew all this way because he claimed to have important information. It may even help us solve the crimes that have been happening at the ranch, dating back to Cole’s disappearance as a baby. If I can figure out what happened back then, I’ll be that much closer to finding the truth about my
father’s murder, too. They’re connected. I feel it in my gut.”
“Slade, I have a right to know—”
“And you will know. Later.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and the warmth from his palm seeped through the thin fabric of her blouse. “I’ll tell you everything he says.”
She raised her chin. “You will? You promise?”
He squeezed her shoulder. His hand felt strong, reassuring, steadfast, and her stomach swooped. “I swear I will. But look at him. He’s dying. This may be my only chance to get the information he has.”
She didn’t have to look. Breen’s hollow eyes and wan skin were burned in her memory.
Jethro accepted hush money...one million dollars...had connections to organized crime....
A shiver chased through her, and she hoisted Cheyenne higher on her hip. “Fine. Cheyenne’s antsy, anyway. I’ll take her out to the courtyard to look at the fountain. Meet me there.”
His cheek twitched with a hint of an appreciative grin. “Thanks.”
She retrieved the diaper bag and faced the frail man in the bed. “Mr. Breen, I wish we’d met under better circumstances. Despite that, I wish you the best. Thank you for your time.”
She’d turned to exit the room when Breen stopped her. “Ms. Colton, the past...can only hurt us...if we let it. Be grateful for...the blessings in your life—” he nodded toward Cheyenne “—and put your energy into building...a better future.”
Amanda stared at Breen, letting his words wash over her. She recognized the essential truth in his advice, but at the moment, she was still stinging too badly from what she’d learned about her father to do more than acknowledge his admonition. With a jerky nod, she hurried out of his room and headed outside. The California sunshine and fresh December air were a welcome change from the suffocating, dark hospice room.
Colton Christmas Rescue Page 11