Someone shouted a curse. It was a man’s shout. Meanwhile, Colt took cover behind the thick oak dresser. “Now that was just a little redecorating I’ve been meaning to do! The next time I pull this trigger, I’m going to put you down. So why don’t you spit out the splinters and go back out the way you came.”
Shit. He shouldn’t have given them that option. He should’ve demanded that whoever it was surrender themselves for arrest. But the plain fact of the matter is that Colt was trapped in his bedroom, without backup… or boots. And since his sidearm had been taken for investigation in the recent shooting, he only had this old shotgun to his name. He wasn’t equipped to make any kind of arrest and he didn’t know what the situation was or how many intruders there were.
If they were pro, they’d sense his vulnerability and come in guns blazing. If they were amateur numbskulls, though, it might scare them off. While Colt thought through the options, he heard running footsteps in retreat down his stairs and out the front door. Numbskull it was, then.
After a moment’s thought, Colton bolted after the intruder, struggling to get what was left of his door open. Stumbling a bit over the chips of wood, he took the stairs two at a time, and rounded the front porch just in time to hear the kick of an engine as the culprit rode off. A motorcycle, if Colton’s ears didn’t deceive him.
Goddamn it, how didn’t he notice a fucking motorcycle in his drive? And now he was standing on his lawn in bare feet, holding a shotgun like a limp dick in his hands.
It was with the greatest bitterness that Colt fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed it in. And he was no less bitter when the local police showed up about an hour later to survey the damage.
Colton knew every cop in town was on the take, so he scarcely managed not to roll his eyes when Sheriff Roscoe asked, “Got any enemies in town?”
Enemies in town? Well, that was pretty much everybody in town except his neighbor, Annabelle Tidwell. Everybody else either resented Colt for leaving Boone County in the first place, or just plain hated his guts for coming back. Even Shelby hated him now, and she was the only thing worth having in Shiloh Township.
But Colton wasn’t about to admit any of that to the sheriff. “Well, there are criminals, you see. And given that I’m an officer of the law—”
“Still a wise-cracker,” said Sheriff Roscoe, kicking some splinters out of the way. “So, given the look of this door, I’d say that we’ll just have to keep a lookout for anybody with buckshot in their ass.”
“I didn’t hit him,” Colton replied. “He was too far off when I fired. I just shot the door.”
The sheriff raised a brow. “Now if he was too far off, why would you shoot your own door?”
Because it was his mother’s door. Or, more precisely, the door his stepfather used to shut in Colt’s face each night when he argued with his mother. Arguments that ended either in hitting and tears, or sex, or both. And there’d been nothing Colton could do about it as a boy. But he wasn’t a boy now. “You know, you might question Buford Baker about this…”
The Sheriff snorted. “You think he forgot he don’t live here anymore and decided to come on home in the dark?”
Colt squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to keep control of his temper. “No. What I think is…” He trailed off, because it would be useless to explain himself. And maybe his theory didn’t make any sense anyhow. When he’d dropped off Shelby at the bar tonight, Buford’s car had been there. Buford couldn’t have left and got to Colt’s house before Colt got there himself. Besides, it wasn’t Buford’s style to sneak into a house all quiet like. No. He’d have walked in like he owned the place, which is what he’d done from the first day he married Colt’s mother. “What I think is that we can try to take a look at everybody who has a motorcycle in town.”
Sheriff Roscoe wrote it down in his notebook in big letters. “Motor Bike. Sure. I’ll check it out, Marbray. I suppose you can’t do much about it yourself, at the agency?”
Colt wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or if Sheriff Roscoe knew that he was on administrative leave. Or if the sheriff genuinely wanted to know if the agency shouldn’t be involved, given that one of their own agents had been involved in another discharge of a firearm.
Not that Colt wanted the help of his fellow agents. He was pretty sure that they’d rib him about this being the one time in his life that Colt had a clear-cut case of self-defense and there was no body to be found in his wake. They’d probably get a hoot out of that since they thought he was some kind of trigger-happy yahoo.
So he was going to have to go it alone. Like always.
Chapter Two
SHELBY
“Are you following me?” I snapped, when I turned around in the Quick-Shop to see Colton dogging my steps. Just the sight of my stepbrother put a rage into me that heated my blood. And I fisted of my sweaty hands as I fought the urge to punch that stupid hat off his head.
He’d hurt me. He’d hurt me bad. And it felt like the only way I was going to stop hurting was to hurt him instead. So I didn’t care that Old Nan Pritchett at the fryer overheard me when I said, “I told you I didn’t ever want to see you again, Colton. And I meant it.”
“Hello, Nan,” Colt said, tipping his hat. Then, reaching out for a can of green beans off of the nearby shelf, he directed his attention to me and asked, “Can’t a man shop for groceries?”
I crossed my arms over myself to ward off Colt’s glib charm. “You liar. You hate green beans. Always did.”
He looked down at the can, absently. “Maybe my tastes have changed.”
“Maybe you’re following me.”
“Maybe I am,” he said, fixing his eyes on me to the sound of a sizzle, while Old Nan flipped the chicken in the oil. “And if you’d give me a moment, Shelby, I could explain why.”
Once upon a time—and not too long ago—those eyes would’ve set me sizzling. But the discovery that all he ever wanted from me was a way to put my daddy in jail had changed everything between us. “Oh, I’m done giving you my moments, Colton Marbray,” I said, wondering if I should just tell Old Nan to forget about the chicken and walk out. That’d teach him.
But there wasn’t any other store in town.
“Don’t suppose you heard about the big hole in my bedroom door,” Colt said.
I had heard about it. Everybody in town had heard about it. And what they were saying wasn’t flattering. So I skewered him with it. “The way I heard it, you got liquored up pretty good and shot a hole in your own door, then tried to cover it up by telling the police somebody broke in.”
Colt obviously hadn’t heard the story told that way before because he blanched. And I might’ve felt sorry for him if it wasn’t just what he deserved.
But then he pushed up the long sleeves of his tee, exposing those forearms that he’d used to hold me down onto a bed and make me scream his name. “You ever known me to get liquored up and irresponsible with a firearm, Shelby? That’s your daddy’s way, not mine.”
I glared at him, wishing Old Nan would hurry up with the goddamned chicken, but I think she was too curious to hear every word we spoke to be any quicker about it. “Go on, Colt. Bring my daddy into it. That’s all you care about, I know perfectly well.”
Colt slammed the can of green beans back onto the shelf. “Now listen, Shelby. I know you’re mad. I know you ain’t prone to listening to reason even on a good day. But I thought having a gun pressed to your head might’ve shook some sense into you and made you realize that there are bad people in this world and some of ‘em might be after you.”
I nearly shuddered at the reminder of how my daddy’s business dealings had recently brought two kidnappers into the bar, one of whom threatened me with a gun. Both of whom were now dead because Colton put a bullet in them. Even so, I wasn’t about to be condescended to about how I wouldn’t listen to reason.
“I’m not the one with a hole blown in his door,” I snapped.
The last time I’d let him convince me of
anything, he’d just been using me. So even though my stomach clenched in fear that maybe someone had been trying to hurt Colton, I couldn’t let down my defenses. After all, he was a law man. He was always in danger, wasn’t he?
Colt reached for my arm, grabbing hold of it before I could wrench it away. And I almost wilted at the memory of what it felt like to be held in those strong arms for pleasure. “You think it’s a coincidence that I was with you that night, took you home, and returned to find someone laying in wait? Thought maybe you might know something about it.”
“Like what?” I asked, a very uncomfortable feeling swirling in my belly as I considered the possibilities—or what he was implying. I turned away from Old Nan, and the fryer, and lowered my voice. “You think I told my father what you were up to and had him send somebody after you? I ain’t that petty, Colt. Frankly, I don’t care about you that much.”
Which was a lie. A total lie. Especially while just the touch of his fingers gripping my arm sent flames leaping up and down my skin. But I’d be goddamned if I ever let him see how much I felt for him again.
Colt lowered his voice too, right down to a whisper. “You didn’t tell your father?”
“No,” I spat, feeling disloyal all the way around. And when Colt gave me the start of a smile, I added, “But don’t flatter yourself that it was to protect you. You just ain’t worth my time or his.”
Another lie. Because if I told my father that Colt had not only taken my virginity but broken my heart, I was pretty sure Colt would come away with broken legs, lawman or not.
“But he knows we were together?” Colt asked, drawing me into the aisle near the candy and potato chips and junk food. Which was just as unhealthy for me as he was.
“We were never together,” I said, pulling free of his grip, feeling singed where his fingers had been. “You’ve just been sniffing around me since you came back to town, trying to get me to turn on my kin. I didn’t turn and I didn’t tell anybody about it, for shame they’d find out I was such an easy mark. So if there was anybody in your house, my father didn’t send ‘em.”
Colt scowled. “Well, that’s not comforting news.”
“No?” I asked, my nostrils flaring as Colt put his body in my path.
“No,” he said, staring down at me from beneath the rim of his hat. “Because let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that you’re right. That your father didn’t send anybody to break into my house. That means it wasn’t someone working for your father. It was someone working against him. And the target wasn’t me. It was you.”
A bolt of fear hit me. Because even though I hadn’t wanted to admit even a little bit of weakness to Colton Marbray, having had a gun pointed at my head really had shaken me up. And having the man who was holding it shot dead, spraying me with blood, wasn’t an experience I was like to forget. In fact, just remembering it made my hands start to shake so badly I had to tuck them under my arms. “That’s quite a jump, Agent Marbray. I think maybe you should look closer to home for an explanation. Given your line of work, I’m sure my daddy and his associates aren’t the only enemies you got…”
“No, but the rest of my enemies are in New Mexico,” Colt replied, with more swagger than he ought to have, given that he came home from there in some disgrace. “And if anybody in a drug cartel was gonna risk breaking into my house to take me out, a shotgun wouldn’t scare them off. No, it takes a special kind of stupid to sneak into the home of a lawman. The kind of stupid your father attracts in his lackeys… or the kind of stupid someone who ain’t from around here might show if they were paying more attention to the woman they meant to kidnap than the guy she was shacking up with.”
Oh, I hated him for saying the words shacking up with in the middle of the Quick-Shop like I was some slut who got around, and not the girl who gave him her virtue and her heart. I knew he was mad, but I was madder. “Well, I guess you’re right, Colt. It sure is a special kind of stupid to break into a house after the woman you’re trying to kidnap has already gone…” Colt rubbed at the back of his neck. He didn’t have an answer for that. Which relieved me tremendously. “So, are we done here?”
“No, we ain’t done,” he said, blocking my path. “You wanna know who those men are that I shot in your daddy’s bar?”
“No,” I said, because I already had a good idea.
“Those were Raymond Barnetti’s men. You know who he is?”
“No,” I said, trying to shove past him. “And I don’t care who he is.”
“He’s a mafia boss in Chicago,” Colt said, tugging me back by the collar of my shirt in a way that made me slap at his hand, however ineffectual. Bringing his face close to mine, with unbearable familiarity, he added, “A big time crook, Shelby. Somebody who makes your daddy look like nobody. And Raymond Barnetti thinks your father stole something from him. That’s why he sent those two thugs into your bar. And that’s why he’s going to keep on sending thugs until he gets back what’s his.”
My mouth went dry with fear, though I tried to hide it. My father had promised me that he’d take care of the situation that had put me in danger in the first place. He’d promised he’d make it right. And I believed him. My father might be a cold bastard at times, but he’d never lied to me, whereas Colt did nothing but lie to me.
And even though the nearness of him set off a longing in my heart and my body that was enough to bring me to my knees, I couldn’t trust him. I knew better. “Thanks for the warning, Special Agent.”
Colt set his teeth on edge. “You need protection.”
“Well, I’ll make sure not to be alone.” With that, I slipped past him and returned to the fryer. “That chicken done yet, Nan Pritchett, or you gonna let it burn listening to all the gossip?”
Old Nan gave me a toothy smile, while boxing up my order. “Didn’t hear nothing over the sizzle.”
I wasn’t sure if she meant the chicken, or me and Colt.
Meanwhile, he came up behind me, repeating, “I said that you need protection, Shelby. If you’re going back to your father’s bar, I’m going with you.”
“Just so happens, I ain’t going back to my father’s bar,” I said, shooting him a look of pure venom. “It’s my day off and I’m going on a picnic with Huey Tidwell. Bringing him the chicken that I shoulda brought him the other day.”
“Jesus H. Christ, Shelby.”
It bothered him. I could see that. It bothered him every time I brought up Huey’s name. When I was just his kid stepsister, I thought that reaction meant he was jealous. I thought his jealousy meant love. But I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I was starting to think Colt just didn’t like to think about anybody touching anything that he felt he had a claim to. He felt that he had a claim to me.
But that wasn’t love.
“Are we done now?” I asked. “Or do I need to call the authorities and get a protective order to keep you away from me?”
Colt clenched his jaw. “Well, I won’t mind that so much if that means you get yourself a protective detail in the process.”
Nan handed me the bag of chicken over the counter, and I gave her some folded bills from my back pocket while I stewed over Colton’s words. A protective detail. Like anybody in the law was going to care what happened to me without asking for information in return. “Colt, I’m gonna say this once, and I want you to hear me. I used to love you. Seems like I loved you my whole life, right up until the moment I saw who you really are. And now I don’t even like myself for having loved you. So this is the last conversation we’re gonna have unless you’re fixin’ to arrest me.”
Chapter Three
COLTON
She meant it. For the first time since the day he met her, Colt saw real contempt in her eyes. And maybe he deserved it. Not for what she was actually mad at him for—trying to plant a tracking device on her father’s car—but what he’d done on the pool table the night he took her virginity.
He hadn’t been careful with her that night. He hadn’t been gentle. He hadn’t
used protection. And he hadn’t treated her well after the fact. Oh, he’d tried to make it up to her the second time, but he knew, deep down, that he’d done her wrong and it was likely to color everything between them forever.
Which is maybe why she could make him feel about two inches tall, even when he was trying to save her life.
And it didn’t help that she wasn’t lying about going on a picnic with Huey Tidwell. “I think they’re an item now,” Old Nan told him, once Shelby had gone. “Saw ‘em walking together in town just yesterday.”
Colt tried to hide his grimace from the mother of his oldest friend in town. But Nan noticed, and asked slyly, “Did you want them green beans?”
“Never did like ‘em,” he admitted.
She chuckled. “You know, Newman’s been asking about you. You two maybe should go out for a beer and catch up on old times.”
“We sure should,” Colt said, knowing he had no plans whatsoever to do that. “You give him my regards.”
Then Colt waited a respectable amount of time before following Shelby on up the hill to the Tidwell place and, scouting at the edge of his property, saw that the two of them were, indeed, sprawled on a checkered blanket, eating fried chicken, laughing together about some joke he couldn’t hear.
Maybe the joke was him.
Because seeing her with another guy—even one as basically simple as Huey Tidwell—made Colt feel like he was going to lose his shit. Seeing them together had made him sick with jealousy when he was a teenager, and now it made him want to give Huey another beat down and tell him to stay away from his woman. Which was about as humiliating as things could get, Colt supposed. Suspended from his job, living on his dead mother’s farm, spying over a fence line at the girl he wanted but couldn’t have just so that he could make sure no one kidnapped her.
Fine life he’d carved out for himself here…
It was dusk by the time they went inside. And that’s when Colt thought of a better way of protecting Shelby than spying on her like a creeper. So he went inside for his shot gun, and started a hike up into the hills.
Stepbrother Breaks Bad: The Complete Series Page 9