The Colton Ransom

by Marie Ferrarella

  “I’m not an idiot,” Trevor responded.

  “No,” she murmured under her breath. “Just a newbie father.”

  But from the looks of it, he’d be a doting one, Gabby thought fondly as she continued looking in his direction even though Trevor was in the kitchen now.

  * * *

  “Looks like you did my work for me,” the chief said less than twenty minutes later after he had been filled in on what had happened.

  His gaze took in Johnson and it was obvious that the older man was sorely disappointed. He had been the one to vouch for Duke, acting as a reference when Duke was looking to be hired at Dead River. For the most part, Johnson had been a hard worker. But the homicide—accidental or not—and kidnapping changed everything.

  “Not quite,” Trevor replied grimly to the chief’s comment. “We still don’t know who put the word out to have Cheyenne Colton kidnapped.” He glanced in Gabby’s direction. She’d taken the baby from him again, freeing him up to talk to the chief unencumbered. “Which means that your niece’s life still might be in danger,” he told her.

  “Whoever’s behind the first kidnapping could have just cut his losses and taken off,” the chief pointed out.

  That seemed way too optimistic to him, Trevor thought. Revenge or money—either way the kidnapper hadn’t got what he was after.

  “Better safe than sorry,” he told the police chief, then turned back to Gabby. “I’m hiring a bodyguard for your niece.”

  His words were met with a smile. They were of like mind: better safe than sorry. “Sounds good to me,” Gabby told him. “I’m sure Amanda will say the same thing,” she added.

  “I’ll come on out to the ranch to do some more nosing around,” the chief told Trevor. “Just as soon as I get this one behind bars,” he added, indicating the handcuffed wrangler.

  Johnson had the look of a desperate man as the reality of the situation—and its consequences—were beginning to sink in. “I didn’t mean to kill Ms. Faye. She just kept coming at me,” Johnson cried. “It was an accident.”

  The chief paused to look disdainfully now at the young man he’d once trusted. “Whether you meant it or not, Faye’s still dead,” he pointed out.

  Johnson made a desperate, unintelligible noise.

  “One question,” Trevor said, holding a hand up and getting in Johnson’s way as the chief began to lead him out of the room.

  Johnson looked at him warily, as if he was expecting some sort of trap. “Yeah?”

  “How did you get back to your apartment so fast?” he asked.

  Johnson stared at him, not comprehending the question. “What do you mean?”

  Trevor knew the difference when someone was playing dumb. Johnson appeared genuinely confused. “Back at the ranch, when we went to talk to Clara again, you took a shot at Ms. Colton—”

  The wrangler looked horrified. To kill a staff member was one thing. To kill one of the Coltons carried with it far darker penalties.

  “No, I didn’t,” Johnson protested. “I’ve been here since last night, trying to figure out what to do with the kid. Someone shot at you?” Johnson asked, looking uncertainly at Gabby.

  In response, Trevor gently turned her cheek toward the handcuffed wrangler, letting him see the grazed mark. “Sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”

  The news was a revelation to the chief as well. He seemed rather upset by this newest twist. “You want to come down and make a statement, Ms. Colton?” he asked Gabby.

  But Gabby shook her head. “Later,” she answered. “Right now, all I’d like to do is get this little one back home and change her.” She lightly patted the baby’s rather soggy bottom. Avery was in desperate need of a fresh diaper, not to mention a clean outfit. “My guess is that, right now, she’s about twice her normal weight.”

  “At your convenience, then,” the chief said politely, tipping his hat to her. His face clouded over as he turned his attention back to his prisoner. “Move, boy,” he ordered gruffly.

  “Okay,” Trevor said once the other two had departed from the old apartment, “it’s time to get my girls home.”

  Startled, Gabby’s head jerked up, and she looked at him closely, as if to scrutinize him. “You must really be tired,” she concluded.

  He felt far too wired at the moment to be even remotely tired. “What makes you say that?”

  Wasn’t it obvious to him? Or hadn’t he heard himself just now? “Because you just referred to both of us as ‘your girls.’”

  Trevor looked at her, waiting. He still didn’t see what the problem was. “So?”

  “Well,” she explained slowly, “Avery’s your girl because she’s your daughter....” Her voice trailed off after that, giving him space to draw his conclusion from what she’d just eluded to.

  The light dawned. “And you don’t want to be.”

  That wasn’t what she was saying. “No. Yes.” And then she came to a skidding halt. “Wait a minute—are you actually calling me that on purpose?”

  “You don’t like it,” he guessed. Was she one of those women who took a term of endearment and only saw it as an insult?

  “I didn’t say that,” she told him, trying to pin him down.

  Okay, she’d just lost him, he thought. “Then what did you say?”

  Gabby countered his question with one of her own. “What are you saying?”

  Taking a deep breath, he backtracked. “You’re asking me to spell it out?”

  She felt her pulse accelerating again, except that this time, there were no guns involved, no kidnappers around. This was just two people, dancing around the right words and a time-old tradition that had yet to be set in motion.

  “I think you’re going to have to, otherwise, I’m just going to think one of us is hallucinating,” she answered.

  He supposed, after everything she’d gone through for him, she had this coming. He took a second to pull himself together and get his thoughts right.

  “I didn’t think it was possible at my age,” Trevor began, “but you’ve managed to make me see things differently, to see things in a better light than I ever have before....”

  She did her best not to look amused. “So far, you’re making me sound like I was some kind of a fledgling saint.”

  That was not his intent. “Not really. I don’t think a saint, fledgling or not, would have done the kind of things you did the other night.” This time, there was no muting his smile. It spread out all over his face.

  “Now you’re making me sound like some kind of a sinner,” she pointed out.

  He shook his head, vetoing the second image. “What you are, Gabby, is the total package. A saint and a sinner, all rolled up into one. What I’d like to know...”

  For a moment, the sentence just hung there, unfinished, so she prodded. “Yes?”

  He began again, his mouth so dry he was afraid his tongue was going to stick to the roof of his mouth if he didn’t get all this out soon. “What I’d like to know is if you’d like to be my personal saint/sinner.”

  That sounded like a requisition for a job. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He blew out an impatient breath. Why was this so hard? “I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”

  “Then ask me to marry you,” she suggested. “Don’t talk in riddles.”

  Trevor tried again, hoping this time it would come out right. “Gabriella Colton—”

  “You usually call me Gabby,” she reminded him. Things were comfortably informal between them now. She didn’t want to lose that.

  Nervous, Trevor was swiftly becoming exasperated. “Will you stop interrupting?”

  “Okay.” But then she began to say something more.

  Trevor put his finger to her lips to keep her from saying anything further before he got this out. “Gabby Colton, will you do me the supreme honor of becoming my wife?”

  As far as proposals went, this one certainly lacked feeling, never mind passion. So she asked, “Why?”

  He coul
d only stare at her, dumbfounded. “What do you mean ‘why?’”

  “Well, if you want me to marry you, there has to be a reason. Are you asking me to marry you because you like the way I cook—? Wait, you’ve never eaten anything I’ve cooked, so it’s not that. Is it the way I diaper a baby? Because you’ve seen me do that. Or is it—?”

  Not knowing how else to make her stop talking, he shouted over her. “I’m asking you to marry me because I love you!”

  She smiled contentedly then, like a cat that had got into a case full of cream. “There, now was that really so hard?” she asked him sweetly.

  They weren’t officially engaged yet and already she had him jumping through hoops, he thought. “Damn it, woman, you’re going to make me crazy.”

  She grinned up at him. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Trevor Garth.”

  He caught hold of her arms and pulled her closer, despite the fact that she was still holding his daughter, who was now fast asleep. “But I’ve got a feeling I’m going to,” he replied. Then, before she could say another word, he leaned into her and kissed her.

  Even with the baby between them, his kiss still rocked her world. And she had the feeling that it would continue to do so for a very long time.

  Gabby couldn’t wait to be proven right.

  Epilogue

  Gabby’s bedroom—it was more like a suite, in his opinion—complete with a sitting room, was more than twice the size of his old quarters located in the staff’s wing. Even with the crib she’d kept there initially for her niece, the crib that was now to accommodate Avery, the room was still huge. When the crib had been put in his room, there had barely been enough space to move around in.

  From what he could see, Gabby could have had a small circus performing here—complete with baby elephants—and there still would have been room left over.

  It had taken him a little more than two hours to gather together all of his things, as well as Avery’s belongings, and bring them over to Gabby’s room. She’d suggested, in light of recent events, that he move in with her. There was more than enough room in her walk-in closet for his clothes, the baby’s few clothes and, most likely, the clothes of some small, fashion-minded Western European country.

  Ordinarily utterly secure in his identity and in his abilities to handle any situation, Trevor was aware of battling feelings of inadequacy. He’d always been his own man—even before he’d actually been a man.

  But even so, he looked around Gabby’s room uncertainly.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked. Gabby gazed at him questioningly, obviously waiting for him to elaborate, and he obliged. “About my moving in with you? Your father—”

  Gabby saw where this was going and cut Trevor off before things could escalate and veer off in unstable directions.

  “—has bigger things on his mind right now than you moving into my rooms,” she assured him firmly. “Besides, you’re not exactly some random lover I happened to stumble across at a saloon one night and decided to take to my bed. You’re a brave, well-respected former police officer he handpicked to be head of his ranch’s security. Plus you’re my fiancé and you’ve vowed to make an honest woman out of me, remember?” she reminded him.

  Moving closer, Gabby placed her hand on his chest, her fingers splaying out playfully along the ridges and muscles she felt beneath her palm.

  “It’s okay,” she told him with feeling as well as a sexy smile on her lips.

  He laughed and closed his arms around Gabby, drawing her closer to him. Close enough to feel her heart beating in rhythm with his.

  Such a small sound, generating such a comforting feeling, he couldn’t help thinking.

  “Honest woman,” he echoed with a small laugh. “It’s you who’s making an honest man out of me.” He saw her brow furrow slightly in confusion, so he explained. “Before you came into my life, I figured I was just meant to drift through life, standing on the outside, looking in, seeing other people enjoying themselves, having all the normal things everyone wants—a home, a family. Love. Things I never had, thought I was never going to have. But you changed all that. You made all that happen,” he told her.

  He could feel his heart swelling with love as well as gratitude—gratitude for so many things.

  “And maybe I don’t show it, and maybe there’ll be times when I won’t act it, but I’m going on the record here and now, Gabby, to say that I know how very lucky I am and how much I appreciate you loving me.”

  A teasing smile played along her lips. “Oh, you do, now, do you?”

  But he didn’t take the easy way out, didn’t resort to teasing, abandoning the serious note the first moment he could because it embarrassed him. This had to be said—if only once—and he wanted her to know exactly what she meant to him.

  “Yes, I do,” he told her. “You saved me, Gabby. You saved me from becoming an unhappy, bitter man way before my time.”

  “So there’s a time for you to become unhappy and bitter?” she pretended to ask innocently.

  He laughed, capturing her lips for a fleeting moment and savoring the taste of her.

  But he couldn’t allow himself to get carried away. His daughter was in her crib, which was in the adjoining sitting room and out of sight, but he was still aware of her being there and possibly awake.

  “You know what I mean,” he said to Gabby. “I’m not very good at words.”

  “Oh, on the contrary,” she said with conviction. “You’re very good with words, Trevor.” A wicked smile moved across her mouth as she went on to tell him, “But you’re even better at something else.”

  “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, as if to question her words. “And what would that be?”

  Raising her head, she ever-so-faintly brushed her lips against his in what felt like almost a phantom kiss. And then she drew back, her eyes dancing.

  “Guess.”

  “Okay,” he answered gamely.

  Pulling her in even closer, Trevor sealed his lips to hers. Just as he began to do so, he heard her sigh with anticipated contentment. “Right as usual.”

  He could feel her smile beneath his lips as they found hers. He didn’t know about “usual,” but he was damn glad he was right.

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the next story in

  THE COLTONS OF WYOMING miniseries: COLTON BY BLOOD

  by Melissa Cutler,

  available August 2013 from

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense.

  For a sneak peek, turn the page....

  Chapter One

  You can’t make peace with a ghost. Kate McCord knew this as fact.

  It was one of those secrets of life that no one would tell you and you had to uncover for yourself, like discovering Santa Claus wasn’t real. It stuck in Kate’s craw, all the truths that nobody saw fit to share. She’d found out the hard way, and not until it was too late, that bankruptcy would not solve your problems, no matter how enthusiastically a lawyer told you it would, not all men cared if a woman orgasmed and croissants—the real kind, not the ones sold in supermarkets—were nearly a third butter.

  And the memories of the people you loved and lost? Well, all they did was haunt.

  It was dark in the servant stairwell. A sprawling, fluid darkness that seeped into cracks and corners and right into Kate’s skin. A dessert tray balanced on her right hand, heavy and ungainly. Her left hand pressed to the wall, holding her steady as she stood rooted on a stair somewhere between the first and second floors, at least ten steps in either direction to the nearest door. Too great a distance for a woman who was afraid of the dark.

  She had no idea how long she’d been waiting for the power to be restored, but it had to have been well over five minutes, perhaps ten if the rising heat and stuffiness were any indication. The watch she wore had a light, but activating it would require her to set the tray down. Not only was the tray too large to balance on a step, but she wasn’t sure she could convince her body to move.

  Her pulse po
unded all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. Any second now, Horace or Jared or one of the other ranch hands would get the generator fired up and she’d be safe.

  Any second now.

  Every so often, distant voices cut through the unbearable silence that had replaced the hum of the air-conditioning system. Footsteps clomped away, fading off. Nobody ventured onto the stairs. All that mattered to the waitstaff was restoring the Colton family to the level of comfort to which they were accustomed. Locating a stranded cook’s assistant probably didn’t cross anyone’s mind.

  It would’ve crossed Faye’s mind. She’d been Kate’s closest friend at Dead River Ranch. In all of Wyoming, really. But Faye was gone, and now the kind old woman was yet another person Kate loved who’d died before their time only to haunt the shadows of her mind. Another ethereal face in the darkness.

  She shivered.

  The note she’d stuffed in her pocket in haste crackled. On the tray, the glass dish of bread pudding quivered.

  Steady, Kate. It’s only a power outage.

  Maybe if she kept her focus on the pudding, she would survive this ordeal with her sanity intact. She’d spent hours on that dessert, baking the challah loaves, preparing the custard and whiskey sauce. It was a sumptuous creation topped by a pillow of fresh whipped cream. Mr. Colton’s favorite sweet, if his frequent requests were any indication.

  A boom of great force sounded from nearby. A door slamming or something hitting a wall. A tree falling, perhaps. Fierce wind storms were most likely to blame for the power outage. They’d plagued Western Wyoming for more than a week, beating on the ranch house and surrounding wilderness, unrelenting. Sinister.

  Another hard truth Kate had discovered for herself was that Mother Nature was the greatest devil of all, an unremorseful murderer. Every time the weather turned nasty, the faces of William and baby Olive—and now Faye—hovered in the front of her mind.

  She’d felt so safe at Dead River Ranch, where busy servants and the lazy, entitled family left the lights burning all day and night. The kitchen was her cocoon. A warm, bright, safe place to call home. Until last month.