by Lisa Childs
A visit he was threatening to move up as his voice emanated from the speakers of the cell phone sitting atop the bed next to the laptop, which was open to the Everything’s Blogger home page. “Explain those pictures to me,” Declan challenged her. “Why the hell is River Colton carrying you into the ER of Shadow Creek’s hospital?”
That wasn’t his first question. That had been an anxious “Are you all right?”
It was only after she’d assured him that she was that he’d told her to pull up the blog. She repeated now what she’d said then. “I can’t believe you even look at that tabloid crap.”
“Apparently it’s a good thing that I do, so I know what the hell’s going on!”
He must have believed that she was really okay because anger replaced his concern now.
She flinched as her head began to pound again. Maybe she needed to take another pill to dull the pain. But she wanted to wait until she was done talking to Declan. She needed to keep her mind clear for this conversation. “It’s a good thing you have such an excellent assistant that you have time to troll the internet.”
He snorted, but there was amusement in it. “A good assistant would have answered her phone earlier, so I wouldn’t have been so worried.”
“You were?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. “You know you are far more than just an assistant to me.”
The minute she’d showed up at the foster home they’d shared, Declan, older and bigger, had treated her like a little sister. She’d only been eight while he’d been sixteen. If he hadn’t been so protective of her, she hated to think what might have happened. There had been a lot of angry kids in that home that might have taken out their frustrations on her. But even after Declan had left at eighteen, he’d made sure she stayed safe with frequent visits.
“I know,” she said with a shaky sigh. “And I’m sorry you were worried. I didn’t have my phone on me at the hospital.” But she hadn’t been there all day. When she’d seen the missed calls from him, she’d shot him a text saying that she was fine and would call this evening. And she’d ignored the call he’d immediately placed after that text. He had every right to be furious with her.
“I’m still worried,” Declan said. “You’re not acting like yourself, Edith.”
She couldn’t argue with him. “Maybe it’s the concussion.”
“Concussion!” he exclaimed, then lowered his voice as if he was worried her head was hurting. “You said you were okay.”
“I am.”
“If you were, you wouldn’t be hanging out with a Colton. I thought you felt the same way about them that I do.” And now he sounded betrayed.
“That was a long time ago,” she reminded him.
Back in the foster home, she’d expressed resentment of them—that her uncle helped all of them but not her. That hadn’t been fair, though, because Uncle Mac had never been given the chance to help her. Had he known what was going on, she had no doubt that he would have been there for her—like he’d been there for every one of the Coltons, even though only one child was biologically his. Thorne.
“I have never understood why you resent all of them,” she admitted. Declan had treated her like a sister in every way. He’d been protective of her, but he’d also ignored her when she’d pestered him with questions.
“We were growing up in an overcrowded foster home while they were rich and entitled.”
“Were,” she said. They weren’t anymore—at least not all of them. Certainly not River nor Thorne. “Is that why you bought this house?”
He snorted again but with nary a trace of amusement this time. “Stop changing the subject, Edith, and explain this photograph to me.”
She looked at the computer screen again, and her pulse quickened with remembered excitement of being held in River’s strong arms, of his chest beneath her cheek. He’d made her feel so safe and protected—more so than even Declan had ever made her feel.
But he looked fierce in the picture, his jaw tightly clenched. His hat shadowed his face, so that the patch and the scars were barely visible, but still he looked like a pirate carrying off the damsel in distress.
“Pictures can be deceiving,” she reminded him. “You know that.”
Like River, Declan’s thick brown hair and clear green eyes and masculine bone structure made him highly photogenic. And he had been photographed with women before that had led to tabloid speculation. Was billionaire Declan Sinclair, CEO of SinCo, involved with...
Fill in the blank. There had been a couple of models, an actress and a married politician. While he might have been dating the models and the actress, he would have never been involved with a married woman. Hell, Declan had never really been involved with anyone that she knew of...
He’d always been so focused on his business. And so had she, until now—now she couldn’t stop staring at that picture of River. He hadn’t wanted to leave her tonight. He’d been worried about her, too—like Declan. But Declan thought River was the threat to her safety.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked. And the anger was back.
“Of course not,” she replied. “I told you—some wine racks and crates fell over on me.”
“Accidentally?” he asked suspiciously.
That shadow against the stone wall flashed through her mind. But it could have been anything. A bulb burning out. An animal. One of the crates moving as it began to slide off a rack. Maybe that was what had caused them to tip.
She had only caught a glimpse of it. And then when she’d been hit in the head, she hadn’t seen anything—at all. She closed her eyes as the throbbing increased.
“Yes,” she told Declan, even though she wasn’t certain she spoke the truth.
And because he knew her so well, he called her on the lie. “I don’t feel like you’re being completely honest with me, Edith.”
“Now you know how I feel,” she murmured.
But she’d spoken so softly, he asked, “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He was her brother, but he was also her boss. And as an employer, Declan tolerated no disrespect. Or dishonesty.
“How did River Colton find you?” he asked. “What the hell was he doing at La Bonne Vie?”
She flinched again. She had yet to tell him she’d hired River. It was clear that if he knew, he wouldn’t be pleased. And Edith was too tired to argue at the moment.
But she was honest with him when she answered, “Declan, my head is pounding, and I really need to get some sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Of course you need some rest. In fact, I should send someone else to take over for you.”
She snorted now. “Like anyone else could handle this job...”
He had no idea how big it was.
“...with the discretion you want,” she continued. “The reporters are relentless. They keep trespassing.” She wondered now how that one had known to show up at the hospital. Had he been that shadow she’d glimpsed the night before? Had she surprised an intruder?
But River had been so certain he’d taken every necessary measure to keep them out. Nobody should have been able to get inside.
But even as she thought that, she heard it—the telltale creak of a door opening. She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cool breeze blowing through the open windows.
“I have to go,” she told Declan. And she didn’t wait for his acquiescence before she clicked off her cell. She had to go. She pulled her can of pepper spray from her purse. This time she wouldn’t be the one getting hurt.
* * *
In disbelief Declan stared down at the blank screen of his cell phone. Edith had just hung up on him. Not that he could blame her. She’d been hurt, and he’d been interrogating her.
But, damn it, he wanted to know what the hell River had been doing
at La Bonne Vie. No Colton should have been allowed on the premises—ever again.
It wasn’t theirs anymore.
It was his. He waited for the rush of satisfaction that was supposed to bring him. But he couldn’t feel it.
Not yet. Maybe once he visited the house. Maybe then he would feel like it was really his and not theirs.
Would they feel that way? Would they know they’d lost everything? Like he once had?
He was no longer that pathetic poor kid he’d once been. He hadn’t been for a long time—not since Edith had showed up in the foster home he’d been in. He believed it was more than coincidence that had brought her to the same foster home. Her showing up there had given him purpose.
He wasn’t out for revenge just for himself but for her, too. She was too sweet and forgiving to want it for herself. So just like he’d protected her then, he would protect her now. He glanced from his blank phone screen to the monitor on his desk, and his stomach lurched as he focused on her face again, on the blood dried on her forehead and in her hair.
He wasn’t doing a very damn good job of protecting her now. No matter what she’d claimed about her getting hurt in an accident, Declan believed she needed protection. The look on her face as she stared up at the man carrying her scared Declan. He hadn’t been this afraid since his mother had abandoned him on that street corner in New Orleans.
He was afraid Edith was going to get hurt even worse than a concussion. He was afraid that she was going to get her heart broken.
Chapter 11
You know you are far more than just an assistant to me...
Of everything he’d overheard through the open window, that was the phrase haunting River the most. What the hell was she to her boss?
Friend?
Lover?
Dread tightened the knots that had already been in his stomach since he’d spotted that person skulking around the estate. He had to know if Edith was safe in the house alone. And he also had to know if she was romantically involved with her boss.
That was why he’d unlocked and opened the front door. But he’d barely made it across the foyer before he saw her coming down the stairwell. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d watched his mom descending those stairs to make an entrance to one of her parties. She’d always worn some fancy designer gown and had her blond hair expertly styled.
Edith made more of an entrance in an old T-shirt, her long legs bare beneath the tattered hem, while her thick, dark hair hung loose around her slender shoulders. She was so damn beautiful that she took away River’s breath. He could only stare at her as desire overwhelmed him.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice cracking with fear but also with anger. She lifted a canister, pointing it toward him.
He realized he was standing in the shadows, so he stepped into the light. “It’s me.”
She dropped the can and pressed a hand over her heart. With the thin fabric tight against her chest, he could tell she wore no bra beneath it. Her nipples were taut beneath the cotton. “You scared me!” she said.
He picked up the can, which had rolled down the steps to land next to his boot. Still leaning over, he peered up at her. She remained a few steps up but not high enough that he could see beneath the T-shirt.
Was she completely naked beneath it?
His heart raced at the thought. “I’m sorry,” he said as he straightened up and handed the can back to her.
“What are you doing back here?” she asked, and her fingers trembled as she took the can from him. “I told you I’d be fine alone.”
“Are you alone?” he asked. He’d assumed he’d overheard another phone call between her and her boss. But the T-shirt she wore was so big it clearly belonged to a man. Maybe that man was in the house, in her bed.
Her hair looked mussed. Maybe someone had been running his hands through it, like River wanted to run his.
Her brow furrowed slightly. “Of course I’m alone.”
“I thought I heard a man’s voice,” he explained.
“Oh.” She sighed. “I had my boss on speaker. What did you overhear?”
“Enough to know he doesn’t like me or my family,” he admitted to eavesdropping. “Why doesn’t he?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” Then her dark eyes narrowed. “Maybe it’s because you don’t listen. You didn’t need to come back here.”
“Yeah, I did,” he said as he remembered his reason for being there. “I saw someone heading toward the house.”
She glanced beyond him toward the driveway. “The gate’s been keeping everyone out. Nobody’s driven up. Not even you.”
“I rode,” he said. “I was out for a ride when I noticed someone heading across the fields toward the house.”
She shivered. “Are you sure it was a person?”
He was beginning to worry that they’d blamed too much on four-legged animals. The noises in the house. The racks and crates being knocked over onto her. “Absolutely certain.”
“Did you catch him?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Then how can you be certain? You were out in the fields where it’s dark.”
“I know it was human.”
“Then how could it outrun your horse?” she asked.
River tensed. “I don’t know. It just all of a sudden disappeared.” Kind of like it had dropped down a rabbit hole. But if he told her that, she would insist it was a rabbit he’d seen.
She tilted her head as if she doubted his story.
“I saw something,” he insisted. Sure, his eyesight wasn’t what it had once been. But he knew that had been a person he and Shadow had seen heading toward the house.
“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “An excuse to come up and check on me.”
He couldn’t deny it. “I am worried about you,” he admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about how you spent the entire night last night lying on the concrete—hurt, cold, alone...”
If she had actually been alone...
Or had someone else been inside the house with her? Had someone knocked over those racks and crates on purpose, wanting to hurt her?
She shivered. He wasn’t sure if she was cold now or if she was chilled from remembering her ordeal. But then she shrugged off his concern and murmured, “It’s not the first time.”
And he remembered she’d been through far worse ordeals than last night—with her mother. “Edith...”
She held up her hands as if to ward off his concern. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “I’m tough.”
He had no doubt about that. “I know.”
“But you’re still worried.”
He nodded. “Will you at least let me check the house? Make sure that no one else is inside? Or aren’t I allowed in here anymore?”
“How much of my conversation did you overhear?” she asked.
“The window was open, and you had the phone on speaker,” he reminded her.
She groaned. “You weren’t supposed to hear any of that.”
“Why does your boss hate all the Coltons?” It must have been why he’d bought the house—for some twisted sense of revenge.
She didn’t try denying it, just shrugged and replied, “I don’t know.”
From what he’d overheard, he knew she spoke the truth. “He accused you of not being completely honest with him, but it sounds like he’s the one keeping secrets from you.”
She sighed. “He wasn’t wrong. I haven’t been completely honest with him,” she admitted, her voice heavy with regret. “I didn’t tell him you’re working here.”
He stepped closer to her. With her up a couple steps, she was the same height as he was now. “Why not?”
“You know,” she said.
He shook his head.
>
“You overheard enough to realize that he’d make me fire you.”
“Oh, I know that,” he heartily agreed. “What I don’t know is why you wouldn’t want to fire me.” Was it possible—could she be as attracted to him as he was to her? He’d caught her glances whenever he went without a shirt. Had he just imagined her interest?
She gestured around the dimly lit foyer. “You’ve done a lot of work around here.”
He’d worked his ass off to impress her—all the while he should have been searching the house for his mother’s secret rooms. “Yeah, I got it ready for your boss’s visit.”
Just one bedroom, though, and she’d moved into that. Did she intend to share it with him?
“So do you want me to fire you?” she asked.
“No.” And it wasn’t just because he still wanted to search for those rooms. It was because of her—because he wanted to keep spending his days with her. “I told you that I need this job.”
“You don’t need this job,” she said, as her dark eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion. “With your skills, you can do anything you want to do.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Your injury is not holding you back at all.”
It was, though. If he didn’t have the scars and the missing eye, he might have done what he wanted to do sooner. “So you really think I can do anything I want?”
She sighed slightly, as if she was getting annoyed with him. “Yes, I do.”
So he reached up and slid one arm around her waist to draw her tightly against him. Then he cupped the back of her head in his free hand and lowered her face to his.
And he kissed her.
Her lips were as silky as her skin and her hair. He brushed his softly across them.
She gasped, and her breath whispered across his skin. Her palms against his chest, she pushed him back but not completely away. His arm was still looped around her waist. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“You told me I can do anything I want,” he reminded her, and his voice was gruff with the desire overwhelming him. “This is what I want to do—what I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” Ever since that first night he’d heard her scream and found her in the basement with her pepper spray and indomitable spirit.