by Addison Fox
Alex’s war cry was fierce and immediate, effectively breaking the spell of desire that wound around him and Bellamy.
Need glazed her beautiful gray eyes, but rapidly gave way to the moment as she scrambled off his lap. Her motions were stiff but she moved quickly so he could get to Alex. His partner was already at the door, his bark deep and full as he stood guard.
“Alex.” Donovan ordered him to quiet as he crossed to the dining room table and picked up his gun. He briefly thought to grab his shirt but refused to waste the time if their quarry lurked outside the house.
He’d already scoped out safe points in the house on his earlier sweep and knew the walls that framed the edge of the dining room were the most secure place. There were no windows in the room, and the short walls that set off the entrance archway would provide additional protection from the front door.
“Bellamy, please get behind the dining room wall. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out.”
“Get behind—”
“Now, please.”
The adrenaline that had carried him into the house fewer than twenty minutes before spiked once again, a heady cocktail that fired the blood. Alex had remained in place at the door, a ferocious protector who would go through the entrance first to protect his humans. The thought humbled Donovan as it always did, the animal’s courage dwarfing that of many people he knew.
“Colton! It’s Archer. Let me in.”
The order was clear and at confirmation it was the chief, Bellamy scampered from behind the dining room wall toward her clothes.
“Bellamy—”
“I’m half-naked, Donovan, and the chief is here.” She hissed the words, color high on her cheeks, and Donovan couldn’t quite hide the grin. She did make an awfully pretty picture, her skin flushed a sweet pink while those gorgeous breasts pushed against the cups of her bra that he hadn’t managed to get off.
A quick glance down reminded him of his own decision to forgo his shirt and he pulled the door open to let Archer in before striding back to get his clothes. Archer was a quick study and likely would have known what he and Bellamy had been doing, clothing be damned, and there was no way Donovan was leaving his friend to stand at the front door like a sitting duck.
Archer made a fuss over Alex, his gaze averted as Donovan righted himself. If Bellamy’s sudden appearance from the corner of the dining room was at all a surprise, Archer was too big a gentleman to show it.
“A neighbor down the way called in gunshots. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now, would you, Colton?”
* * *
HEAT RACED FROM her neck to her face and back down in increasing waves of embarrassment as Bellamy smoothed her shirt over her hips. It was bad enough she’d fallen into Donovan’s arms like a woman starved, but to be discovered by the chief of police added an extra layer of mortification.
She and Donovan had been shot at and how did she respond? By attacking him like some sex-starved fiend.
Although embarrassing, Chief Thompson’s arrival was perfect timing before she’d made an even bigger mistake. She barely knew Donovan Colton. Yes, they’d been thrown into a crazy situation. And yes, there was a base attraction.
But to act on it so quickly?
That was the recipe for a serious heartache once her attacker was caught and life went back to normal. She’d already accepted life had changed with the passing of her parents. Even her job could be overcome as she looked to find a new one.
But getting over Donovan Colton? Somehow she sensed that would be a near impossibility.
The man she’d met five years ago and had hoped to get to know better at the time had grown even more attractive and interesting. But their circumstances made it difficult to tell if there was truly something there or just the heat of close proximity in the midst of danger.
“Ms. Reeves? Are you okay?” Chief Thompson crossed to her, his concern evident. If he did have any thoughts about what she and Donovan had been doing—and she had no doubt he knew exactly what they’d been doing—it didn’t show.
“I’m fine. Scared, but doing okay.”
“Did you see who shot at you?”
“No. After we arrived home earlier, Donovan and Alex did a sweep of the house while I waited in the car. It was only after they came out with the all clear that we were shot at. Donovan took off after the shooter but he was gone.”
The chief’s attention shifted to Donovan. “Did you see him?”
“Nothing more than a fast-moving silhouette. I held Alex back as we didn’t know what we were dealing with, although the suspect did have a man’s build. Alex caught the scent and we’ll follow it again in the morning and see what we turn up.”
“I’ll come back out to help you myself.”
“We’re leaving at first light.”
“I do know how to wake up early, Colton.”
Bellamy sensed the tension beneath byplay and knew there was something beyond the words. Donovan was embarrassed that he’d missed his quarry. On a base level, she understood that.
The chief, on the other hand, had increasingly impressed her. She’d believed him insensitive to her situation based on their first meeting, but now realized she’d misjudged his questions during the interview for something other than due diligence.
“I owe you an apology, Chief Thompson.”
“Me? Why would you say that?”
“You seem upset about this situation.”
“Of course I’m upset. There’s a dangerous threat to my town and my people. I take that threat seriously and so does my entire department.”
She nodded, her anger from that morning a distant memory. “After you questioned me. I thought you believed I was responsible. Now I see you were doing your job.”
“You’ve come around pretty quickly.”
“My father was a simple man, but he was quick to teach my sister and me that if you misread someone you owed it to them to fix the error.”
Chief Thompson doffed his hat on a head nod. “Daniel-Justice was one of my favorite people in town. I was sorry when he was no longer able to manage the store and even sorrier when he passed. You have my promise I will do all I can to find who is doing this and to make sure you stay safe.”
“I believe you will.” Their subtle truce in place, Bellamy extended a hand. “I know it.”
Feeling his firm handshake, Bellamy saw the promise in Chief Thompson’s eyes matched the solemnity of his words. “Thank you, ma’am.”
The chief left as fast as he’d arrived, promising to return at first light to go out with Donovan. He also assured her he’d bring along a deputy to stay with her while he and Donovan hunted for who was responsible. It was only after he’d left that Bellamy was left to face her earlier actions, the heat creeping up her neck once more.
She was alone with Donovan. Again. And while her clothing might be firmly resettled on her body, the memory of their flushed skin pressed intimately together was still fresh in her thoughts.
Too fresh, if the quivers that beat in tempo with her pulse were any indication. “You didn’t need to do that. Before.”
“Do what before?” Hesitation marked Donovan’s tone even as his gaze shifted to the couch where they’d so recently explored each other.
“Racing off. Chasing the shooter. You could have been hurt. Or—” She broke off, the reality of what it meant for him to go off after a threat like he had. “Or worse. You could have been killed.”
“I had Alex. We’re a pretty good pair.”
“Neither of you are a match for a crazy, determined person with a gun.” She rubbed her hands over her arms, suddenly cold in a way she’d never experienced before. It pierced her skin and invaded her bones, a bleak sort of chill that made her wonder if she’d ever be warm again.
“That�
��s why we only followed to the edge of the woods beyond your property. I know what I’m doing. And despite the threats so far, I will keep you safe. And myself in the process.”
He moved closer as he spoke, each step punctuating his points, but Bellamy moved back in matched time, unwilling to give in to the nearly overpowering desire to return to his arms. She had to be strong—had to stand up and do this on her own. Donovan would catch whoever was doing this—of that she had no doubt. It was what would come after that time that worried her. Donovan would catch the perpetrator and then she’d be alone again.
The nearly desperate need for self-preservation had kicked in and she had to protect herself. When this was all over, Donovan would go back to his life and she to hers. It was time to start focusing on that.
“I, um. I should turn in.”
“Of course.” The small light in his gaze vanished, replaced with a subtle layer of confusion. “It’s been a long day.”
Bellamy grasped at the peace offering, clawing to keep her head above water and not come off like the most ungrateful bitch in the world. “Too long.”
“I’m not tired yet, so I’ll hang out here for a while, if that’s all right?”
“Of course. Help yourself to the coffee or anything else you’d like.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Then she made a run for it, the short trip to her bedroom seeming endless as she felt Donovan’s gaze on her back. It was only when she closed her door and leaned back against it that Bellamy finally let the tears come.
In her entire life, she’d never needed anyone more than she needed Donovan Colton. But that way lay madness.
And a heartache she knew she’d never recover from.
* * *
DONOVAN SETTLED DOWN on the couch, Alex hopping up to curl at his side. The large blanket he kept for Alex was spread out beside him and his partner obediently stayed on it, his tail thumping lightly as he stared up at Donovan.
“Busy day, my friend.”
The tail thumped a bit harder, whether it was agreement or the simple joy of sharing the day together. Donovan wasn’t ever quite sure, but he appreciated the companionship all the same. He scratched Alex behind the ears, the dog’s soulful brown eyes nearly rolling back into his head in ecstasy. He added a few additional belly rubs and a neck massage and in moments had a partner who snored like the dead perched beside him on the couch.
“And another one lost to Morpheus’s powerful brew.”
Donovan snagged his tablet from his bag and did a quick scan of his email, sending in a few updates on two of his cases in progress. His caseload was unusually light and he appreciated the extra time it gave him to watch over Bellamy, even as he struggled to find the right balance with her.
Had he scared her off? Or been too aggressive with the make-out session on the couch? Their stolen moments together had seemed mutual, but then she checked out after Archer had arrived, his tempting companion fading behind a very clear wall.
It served him right. He had no business taking advantage of her at such a vulnerable time and a bit of distance would be good for both of them. He’d allowed himself to think otherwise after spending several days in close proximity and the danger of the moment, but it was good Archer had arrived.
Wasn’t it?
Well aware he didn’t have the mental energy to figure it out, Donovan focused on the lingering questions that still dogged him about LSP instead. Whatever was going on, it had to be tied to Bellamy’s job. The email. The car bomb placed at work. Even the way she was summarily fired without even a moment’s consideration for her side of the story from Human Resources. All pointed toward something rotten at Lone Star Pharmaceutical.
Donovan pulled the same articles from earlier on Sutton Taylor, reading through the material, looking for any new insights. The man had helmed LSP for over thirty years. He held numerous patents in the field and was responsible for providing lifesaving drugs throughout the US and globally.
What would he gain from manipulating pricing on one of the most basic vaccines LSP produced?
Opening up a fresh search bar, Donovan tried a new angle. If there weren’t overt answers with LSP, maybe there was something in the Sutton Taylor’s personal life that would provide better insight. He tapped his way through a few searches before finally hitting pay dirt in an Austin lifestyle magazine article from about ten years before.
Donovan abstractly scratched Alex’s head as he read the salient points out loud. “Married to high school sweetheart. One son, arriving later in their marriage. Provided extensive grants to the University of Texas medical school.”
He kept scanning, the accolades for Taylor impressive. By all accounts the man was a veritable saint, his insistence on working for the public good a consistent mantra even as LSP accrued massive profits year over year.
Benevolence and profit. Was it really possible to maintain the two?
Donovan had a suspicious nature—he’d always believed it was what made him a good cop—and his senses were on high alert for what Taylor might be hiding. It was only as he clicked on yet another link that he remembered the blog from earlier. Toggling back to the Everything’s Blogger in Texas post, he read through the list of gossip items that had followed Taylor throughout his professional life. Every article suggested the same thing, and all reinforced Bellamy’s impressions, as well.
Sutton Taylor was a womanizer.
The blog was full of his conquests, with names, dates and, where those weren’t available, a litany of insinuations. The lists also included three known illegitimate children, all claimed by Sutton Taylor as his own. Donovan read through the details, then clicked on the various links the blog provided. It was that last one that stopped him. An image of Taylor, dressed in a hunting outfit with a dog at his side.
The man’s hand settled on the animal’s head, his gun held against his hip with the other. The dog stared straight ahead, a faithful companion to his master. While the scene was different, it was such a clear match for his own photo for the K-9 team Donovan could only sit and stare.
Sutton’s hair was longer where Donovan kept his short and cropped close to his head, but other than that the stance was the same. The jawline was the same. Even the shape of the man’s hand where it cradled the dog’s head was the same.
A subtle sense of awareness tightened his gut and Donovan flipped back through the other tabs he already had open, scrambling to find the blog and the list of dates. The tablet bumped against his knee as he swiped through various screens, jittery nerves jumping beneath his skin.
Was it actually possible? Could it be this obvious? Had the mystery of his birth been here in Whisperwood all along?
The blog provided confirmation and details on Taylor’s three illegitimate children, all born over a ten-year period during his marriage and all provided for through legal means with a piece of his fortune. His son Jensen was the only child produced during his marriage.
Donovan vaguely remembered Jensen Taylor. The two of them didn’t go to school together but Whisperwood was a small town and Taylor may have hung out with Donovan’s older brother a time or two. Even with his limited memory, he did remember Jensen Taylor as one of the golden kids. Part of Whisperwood’s elite, the younger Taylor had enjoyed the freedom his father’s wealth provided and had run with a fast crowd. He and Donovan’s brother hadn’t stayed friends for long.
Was it possible the man was actually his brother?
It was a strange, disturbing punctuation mark to his weird thoughts about Sutton Taylor.
Had the man regretted one more illegitimate child and sought to deal with the problem by disposing of him in the Colton family barn? Even as he toyed with the idea, Donovan couldn’t get any real enthusiasm behind it. Sutton Taylor was a powerful, wealthy man. He could do far better for his offspring—even the illegitimate ones�
��than dropping them off in a barn.
The wealthy had options, from farming unwanted children out to families or disposing of them through private adoption. Regardless of the path chosen, Taylor could have avoided ever having his name associated with an unwanted child—he didn’t need to abandon a newborn infant to do it.
Nor did abandoning a baby follow pattern. The articles all reinforced the fact that Sutton Taylor had taken care of the children conceived outside his marriage.
Alex stirred next to him before lifting his head and placing it on Donovan’s thigh. Warm brown eyes stared up at him, full of support and a devotion that never failed to humble him.
“Do you think it’s possible?” Donovan whispered the question, testing it on his tongue and allowing it to expand and take shape in his mind’s eye. Even with all the reasons against it, there was no accounting for human nature. Taylor was a wealthy married man with a reputation to protect. A family of his own he wouldn’t want to expose to scorn or ridicule. Even if he hadn’t cared for either of those things, thirty-plus years ago Sutton Taylor was still building his empire. It might not have set well with investors if the young owner and businessman couldn’t demonstrate even the slightest bit of control to keep his baser needs in his pants.
Hays and Josephine Colton were well-respected members of the community. They had a young, growing family of their own and were well-known residents of Whisperwood. They’d easily have the financial wherewithal to take on another child, and would be local so someone could keep an eye on the baby as it grew up.
Donovan considered the scenarios, testing them out to see what might stick. It wasn’t a perfect theory, but it had some weight. Maybe what he needed was a good night’s sleep and a fresh perspective after sleeping on it. When he woke up, perhaps he’d have answers. Like whether or not Sutton Taylor was his real father.
The one who’d abandoned him in a barn on Christmas morning, left to be raised by strangers.
Chapter Eleven
Donovan had no more answers at dawn than he’d had when he crawled into the small double bed in Bellamy’s spare room six hours before. What he did have was a raging headache after a sleepless night and more questions than answers.