Killer Colton Christmas

by Regan Black

  Emiliano stood back, gaping at them. “What are you doing?”

  “Fixing the door,” Ace said as if it should have been obvious.

  Marie noticed his answer did nothing to ease the tension in either of the other men. “Did something happen?”

  Emiliano planted his hands on his hips. “To start, it looks like you’ve contaminated a crime scene.” His brown gaze shot daggers at Ace.

  “We didn’t go past this point,” Ace said defensively. “I’m sure there’s plenty of evidence to find inside.”

  Emiliano exchanged a glance with the sheriff before his eyes locked on her. “You didn’t look at the computers?”

  So that was the problem. Clearly the FBI had hauled her name to the top of the suspect list. “No.” She tucked her hands into her pockets. “Ace asked me to help with the repairs. I assumed you knew.”

  “Of course he knew it had to be done. Too easy to bust through again,” Ace said, tightening the screws on the dead bolt. “Not safe to leave it like this for another night when no one’s staying close enough to hear trouble before the alarm.”

  “Ace,” Sheriff Colton said, “can I have a word? Emiliano told me how he found you yesterday. Now I’d like to hear your take on it.”

  As Ace stepped aside with the sheriff, Emiliano stalked over to examine the repair. Her fingertips warmed as she imagined smoothing the tension from his jaw. “I take it Ace doesn’t like to be idle for long.”

  “What was your first clue?” Emiliano asked, his voice rumbling through her senses. “You didn’t go inside?”

  “No,” she replied, irritated at being asked twice. She bent down and petted his happy corgi. Maybe when she went back home, she’d find a pet-friendly apartment and get a dog of her own. Of course, that meant cutting back her hours at the office. It would be worth it to bask in the unconditional love of a companion like Scrabble. “What did your team say that changed your mind about me?”

  “What do you mean?” Temper snapped in his dark eyes.

  “I’m not an idiot, Agent Ortega.” She took a breath. “Something happened that has you treating me like a criminal.” And still she wanted to comfort him, to find a way to ease the stress bracketing his mouth.

  He sighed. “The email evidence Finn found points to you as the one in contact with Barrington.”

  Never. She wanted to shout it until he believed her. That company and the people she worked with were her family. Emiliano might have more than enough people in his life that he could toss away an extra friend or two, maybe even a spare cousin. Not her. Until Colton, Incorporated, she hadn’t had anyone.

  Feeling ill-equipped to have this discussion in her jeans and sneakers instead of her normal suit and heels, she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “In the process of my education, there were courses on cybersecurity.”

  “Right.” He folded his arms over his chest.

  She dragged her gaze away from the distracting flex of his biceps and locked on to his skepticism. “You’ve probably seen my transcripts.”

  “I have.”

  “Then you might want to take a second look. It seems you missed the part where I aced my course work and internships and worked my tail off to land the job I have.” Please, God, let that be the job I still have come January. “I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”

  Under the rim of his hat, he cocked an eyebrow in challenge.

  Leave it to her to find that sexy. Her foolish attraction added another layer to her temper. “Think about it, Agent Ortega. Why would I want to jeopardize any of that? And just in case I decided to turn on an employer I love, an employer that has treated me well, I sure as hell wouldn’t have left behind something so blatantly incriminating.”

  She turned on her heel and started back to the house with Scrabble trotting along beside her.

  * * *

  Emiliano felt like a total jerk. “Marie, wait.” He’d handled hardened criminals with more courtesy and finesse than he’d just shown her.

  She spun back to face him so quickly her ponytail flew out in a wide arc. “What now?”

  He didn’t have an immediate answer and she’d apparently run out of patience. She continued on her way, her swaying hips distracting him for a long, delightful moment. Belatedly, he realized his dog was at her heels. Ouch. Though he suspected it was better for both of them for her to be under Scrabble’s protection until they both cooled off.

  Maybe he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Marie wasn’t his ex-wife and he had to stop looking at her through that same lens. Beth had been an expert manipulator and he’d ignored the signs in an effort to make his marriage work.

  The evidence Finn had found was damaging, yet it didn’t jibe with the curious, helpful woman under his protection. No, he didn’t really know Marie. That took time. But in his gut he knew the accusations didn’t fit.

  Having been conned once, he wasn’t eager to repeat the mistake. Although he’d not been fooled on a case, his career with the FBI having started after his divorce, he didn’t want this to be the exception that proved the rule.

  When the sheriff was finished with Ace and the vet office was locked up tight, the ranch manager dodged Emiliano’s attempts to keep an eye on him at the main house for another night.

  “No way. I saw how she left and I’m not getting in the middle of that,” Ace told him. “I’ll take care of the evening rounds. You’d best take care of those two ladies. Send up a flare if the pair of ’em goes on the attack,” he said with a hearty laugh.

  Knowing he needed a big gesture, he called in a favor at Big Jim’s Burger Shop and ordered milk shakes and burger platters for delivery. He wasn’t sure exactly what she liked, so he requested a variety of toppings on the side and an extra plain beef patty for Scrabble. Walking up to the road to wait for the delivery, he chided himself yet again.

  His boss had texted him before the sheriff arrived, demanding proof of Marie’s involvement with the Cohort or lack thereof. He was working as fast as he could, but this case wasn’t unfolding the way other Cohort cases had.

  Finn was right; someone new was in the game.

  With the delivery in hand, Emiliano walked back to the house, only to drop everything on the table at the sound of a wild scream.

  “Marie!” He reached for his sidearm, recalling too late it was locked in the study.

  “I’m okay!” she called out immediately. “It was the television.”

  He skidded to a stop, his heart rate dropping closer to normal when he saw her posed in front of the television, Scrabble watching her from the chair. A strange scene played out in slow motion on the now-silent screen. “What’s that?”

  “Self-defense videos,” she replied with an odd hitch in her shoulders. “They were on the shelf.” She pointed. “I saw the mess at the vet office. I have to do something. Can you teach me? I can’t expect you to protect me forever.”

  Why not? The visceral reaction shook him and he quickly replaced those two words with a more appropriate response. “All right.” He took a deep breath. “After dinner I’ll teach you some moves.”

  “According to the demonstration on the DVD, the first move is screaming.” She turned off the TV. “That was what you heard.”

  “Clearly loud noises do draw attention.” He stepped back, still edgy from that moment when he’d believed she was being attacked.

  In the kitchen, he pulled everything out of the bags. She chose the chocolate milk shake and bacon cheeseburger, adding sliced jalapeños from the extra sides and toppings he’d ordered. Scrabble, recognizing the scents, waited patiently by her food bowl, confident he’d ordered something for her too.

  Marie didn’t chatter aimlessly and Emiliano kept his mind on the case and sorting all the newest factors that didn’t add up. The quiet felt easy between them, giving him one more t
hing to process.

  Mentally setting the case aside, he considered her request. Basic self-defense was always helpful, building an inherent confidence that many assailants would instinctively avoid. Marie’s situation was different, since she had been targeted specifically. He glanced up and caught her just as she looked away, a small smile teasing her lips. What had he done to earn that expression? The kitchen table suddenly felt too intimate, and he got up to give Scrabble her treat. He needed to pull himself together, but he found his gaze sliding toward her at every opportunity.

  “Have you ever taken a self-defense class?” he asked when the three of them returned to the great room. Scrabble hopped up and curled into a corner of the couch, watching intently.

  “One semester in college.” She hooked her thumbs into her back pockets. “I remember the emphasis on leverage and persistence.”

  “Good.” Yet having seen the damage in his mom’s office, she wanted to know more. Was she expecting to face something worse out here, under his protection? Her apparent lack of confidence in his skills tweaked his pride. “Attackers are usually looking for the easy mark. If you make it difficult, they’ll often run away.”

  He was stalling, uneasy about putting his hands on her, but that was the only way to teach her what she needed to know.

  “Except in my case, the Cohort is making it personal.”

  He couldn’t argue with the truth. “We’re working on that. All right, mirror me.” He raised his hands to face level, palms down, fingers relaxed. “If the attacker comes in close—” he halved the distance between them “—use an eye jab.” For safety’s sake he aimed for her brow line, then caught her hands in his and demonstrated how the move would force an attacker back.

  “Vulnerable spots. Got it.” She let her arms drop to her sides.

  They were too close. With her face tipped up she looked as if she were inviting a kiss rather than waiting for his next instruction. “Yes,” he managed, his voice sounding rusty. “Blinding an attacker gives you room to run. Plus, scratches on the face are hard to hide and would leave DNA evidence under your fingernails. The whole point of self-defense is to find room to escape.”

  “Look at me.” She spread her arms, laughing a little. “I’m not planning to turn a surprise attack into an MMA bout.”

  He raised his arms, lunging in slow motion as if he was going to pull her hair or grab her face. “Size doesn’t matter in self-defense. It’s about finding the angle. When an attacker gives you this opening, put your knee in the groin.” He signaled her to try and she hesitated, rosy color staining her cheeks. “Pretend.” He raised his arms again.

  She giggled, her dimples flashing. “Sorry!” She clapped her hand over her mouth, tried to get serious and lost it. “It’s just...” Another laugh slipped through those generous lips. “You look like a teddy bear trying to be mad.”

  He closed his eyes and searched for a mental reset button. All it took was an image of her being attacked rather than Ace. What if the FBI declared her safe too soon? She was right about needing these skills once she left his protective sphere. Determined, he decided to reverse their roles.

  “Come at me, arms high.”

  She did, still grinning, and he raised his knee. Reflexively, she brought her hands down to protect herself and he went for her throat. Her hands came up and he raised his knee again. “Keep alternating soft targets of eyes, groin and throat until you have room to run away. If you’re cornered, add in an elbow to get your opponent out of the way. Now you try.”

  She was a quick learner, and from the couch, Scrabble gave a soft woof.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” Marie said to the dog, breaking the lesson to go rub Scrabble’s ears.

  He stared at the two of them. “Choke hold.”

  Marie’s eyebrows arched high as she gave him her attention. “Really?”

  He caught her hands and put them on his throat, immediately regretting the contact. There was a warmth in her touch that left him craving her hands on other parts of his body. To save his sanity, he made her grip stronger. “Hold on. First, keep your head.”

  “All right.” Her eyes locked on his mouth and she licked her lips.

  A bolt of desire shot through his system. “Raise your arms overhead and clasp your hands.” He demonstrated and her gaze drifted up his arms to his hands and back down to his biceps. This was a bad idea. “Now sweep down and twist to one side.” Gently, in slow motion, he showed her how to escape the hold.

  “And run,” she said for him when he was free of her.

  “Your turn.” He moved in front of her. “Ready?”

  She gave an uncertain nod.

  He wrapped his hands lightly around her throat, the blood in her veins fluttering under his hands. “This is practice,” he reminded her as her eyes went wide and distant. Her hair was soft as silk against his knuckles. “Marie.” He flexed his fingers, just enough to get her attention. “Keep your head.”

  He struggled to heed his own advice since everything inside him clamored to pull her into a much different embrace and discover if her lips were as soft as they looked.

  “Uh-huh.” Her arms came up, her hands clasped, and she executed the motion perfectly, breaking his hold and dancing out of his reach.

  “Well done.” He straightened his shirt, tucking it back into place.

  “Thank you, Emiliano.” She perched on the couch next to his dog. “That helps me feel better already.”

  Good news for one of them. Edgier than ever, he needed an escape. “I’ll be in the study.” He glanced at Scrabble, but she didn’t budge from her place by Marie.

  “Since you can’t let me help, I’ll be right here.”

  He left the room without another word. Her determination to be prepared and take care of herself made him want to lower his defenses and care for her. He wanted to explore the basic need she ignited within him. He couldn’t afford that kind of mistake. His team was counting on him to do his part for the investigation and he would not let them down.

  Chapter 7

  Marie sat tall in the saddle on Brandy, the sweet mare Ace had introduced her to, relishing the height advantage over the corral, the distant hills, and the man with the dark eyes and reluctant smile teaching her to ride.

  A gorgeous day had turned into a delightful afternoon, clean and fresh after an overnight rain shower. The air was cool on her face and hands, and a light breeze teased strands of hair from the clasp holding it up off her neck as the sun inched toward another brilliant sunset.

  Emiliano had convinced her riding would help with her balance, essential for confidence and self-defense. Enjoying the experience was a pleasant surprise. She was on her first solo circuit of the corral, making small adjustments as he called them out. It tested her concentration since her gaze kept lingering on his easy grace and control in the saddle. Who knew that kind of view would be so tempting?

  “You’re a natural,” he said, dismounting and slipping his hand into the bridle as the horse stopped in front of him with little guidance from her.

  “Give the credit to Brandy. She knows way more than I do.”

  “Not for much longer.”

  Marie puffed her bangs up out of her eyes. His home was amazing and she appreciated his generosity and the tranquil pattern of the past week since the Cohort struck, but she hoped she wouldn’t be here much longer. With Christmas closing in, he had family and holiday traditions and she had...satisfying work to return to.

  Though they’d kept the lesson relatively short, her legs wobbled on those first few steps after dismounting and following Emiliano and Brandy into the barn. “When does your family decorate for Christmas?” As a foster kid, she’d spent Christmas with various states of holiday decor, from over-the-top to nonexistent.

  On the other side of the horse, his smile flickered. “Mo
st years Mom starts on December first. With their cruise, she had other things on her mind. We’ll get to it.”

  She couldn’t decide if she wanted to see the house and ranch decked out or if it would only make her lack of holiday spirit more acute. The holidays always exacerbated that persistent sense of loneliness. She had friends, of course, but her friends had families and she’d felt like an interloper too often as a kid to repeat the cycle as an adult.

  “How about you?”

  Why had she brought it up? She shrugged. “Whenever.” As in never. “It’s not like hanging a door wreath takes a lot of planning.” And she’d only started that because her neighbors in her building asked nicely.

  She distracted him with questions about caring for Brandy, helping with the simpler tasks. Under his watchful eye and expertise, they cared for the horse and settled her into her stall. Once the saddle and tack were stored, and a treat offered, she followed Emiliano’s instructions and started brushing Brandy. When Emiliano was confident in her technique, he moved to the other side of the mare.

  “You have real history and heritage out here,” she said, the brush bringing a gleam to the rich brown coat. “I only have questions.” She peeked at him over the horse’s back, but his eyes were on the animal. She could happily watch him move with that dedicated focus for hours on end.

  “What kind of questions?”

  Too many to dump on him, she thought. “For a split second, when Zane explained how the Cohort took aim at me, I thought maybe...” She had to catch her breath. “Maybe they knew something I didn’t.”

  He stopped brushing and stared at her. “About your parents?”

  “My birth record wasn’t sealed. I know my mother’s name and that she was a teenager when she gave me up.”

  “No mention of your father?”

  She shook her head and tucked all those impossible, unanswerable questions back into that hole in her heart.