Colton's Lethal Reunion (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 2)

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  In the sweats she’d changed into while he’d been in brushing his teeth, and the T-shirt she’d had on minus the bra, she slid out from under her sheet on the far side of the bed. Lifting her feet so they wouldn’t make shuffling sounds on the carpet, she walked by Rafe’s bare toes sticking out from the bottom of the sheet she’d wrapped around the mattress and made it into the bathroom.

  Holding the handle in the turned open position, she quietly closed the door, slowly released the knob. She turned on the ventilation fan to muffle any noise as she hurried to the little toilet cubby, thinking ahead to time her flush with washing her hands.

  She didn’t look in the mirror. Didn’t take time to do more than dry her hands and then, light and fan off, she opened the door as carefully as she’d closed it, her gaze aimed toward those feet at the bottom of the mattress.

  They were still there. Same position.

  She’d made it.

  “Everything come out okay?” The sleepy voice seemed to boom into the room. Freezing on the spot at the bottom of her bed, Kerry didn’t look at him. She’d told him once that her father, who’d been very drunk at the time, had asked her that one night when a couple of the other ranch hands were over and she’d been really embarrassed. To their credit, none of the other guys had laughed. Rafe had, though. And by the time they were done talking about it, she’d been laughing, too.

  Everyone used the restroom, he told her. Even royalty. He’d joked about the number of toilets in the Colton mansion. The phrase had become kind of a joke between them. And not just about the bathroom. She’d do something embarrassing, like the time she’d tripped over her feet running to get to him so not a second of their stolen time had been wasted, and he’d scooped her up, watched her spit dirt out of her mouth and asked, “Everything come out okay?”

  Why did she still remember this stuff?

  Why did he?

  Not answering him, she made it back to bed. Under the covers. Lying there stiffly staring at the ceiling.

  “I miss you.” His voice still sounded sleepy. Sexily sleepy. Was that it? He missed her body doing things with his after their last two nights together?

  “I miss the way you used to trust me,” came next.

  “I miss that, too.”

  They were voices in the dark—that was all. It was okay.

  “You think we’d have made it? If Payne hadn’t found out about us?” The fact that he had to ask was telling.

  But... “Yeah,” she answered. She wasn’t as sure as she used to be, though. “Maybe.” Because as strong as their love had been, Payne would still have been an issue.

  Was still an issue.

  She saw that now, more clearly than ever.

  Rafe had made his choice.

  The thought had been painful sitting at the dining room table filled with work and bright lights to distract her. In the dark, in her bed, in the middle of the night, the strangling pull of pain was almost unbearable.

  Unstoppable.

  But the way he’d talked that night, when she’d seen it all from his eyes, for the first time she got it. She actually understood. He’d had to make an unbearable choice and the only way he’d been able to do so was to harden his heart.

  Against their love.

  Tears seeped out of her eyes and down to wet her pillow. She’d known they were coming. But had expected to be alone when they did.

  They arrived silently. Fell without sound.

  Right up until she sniffed. And then had to reach for a tissue. Because nothing happened the way it did in books or on television. Real life was messy. Bodies had to pee. Noses ran.

  And romantic love didn’t always win.

  “Come here.” A hand appeared up on her mattress. She stared at it. She couldn’t make love to him. Her heart wouldn’t survive intact. But that hand—it was Rafe’s hand, beckoning her. Like it had the first time he’d held her hand as a boyfriend, not just a friend. They’d been standing on opposite sides of a jumping cholla, a desert plant known to reach toward anything close to it and stab it with its needles. She’d just told him that she didn’t want to be his girlfriend and when he’d asked why, she’d said because she was afraid of how bad it would hurt if he ever left her. She purposely put that cactus between them, as though, if he tried to reach her, those needles would protect her.

  He’d reached his hand out, rounding the cactus as much as he could without getting stung and told her, “Come here.” He’d promised her that day that he would love her forever. No matter what.

  He’d also said that he’d never leave her.

  A month later, he had.

  “Come here,” he said again, sitting up this time.

  “I can’t have sex with you.” He was an addiction she had to fight if she was ever going to be happy.

  “I know.” He moved his hand closer. “Come here.”

  In the dark, with her heart breaking, she needed him so badly. She reached out, took his hand, and when he tugged gently, she slowly left her bed and joined him on the mattress. He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything he could say; she got that.

  He just wrapped his arms around her, spooning her loosely, and held her that way until she felt her tears stop and she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Rafe woke up when Kerry’s phone rang. He was alone on the mattress. Had slept surprisingly well for all the tension coursing through him. The ringing stopped and Kerry’s voice came from the other end of the house. The bedroom door was open. By the smell of things, she’d already had her shower.

  Had she slept at all?

  The thought led him back to the sound of her tears the night before. They’d about done him in. Kerry had never been a crier. Not even when she fell and broke her arm and should have cried.

  Not when he’d told her that he could never see her again.

  But the night before, she’d cried.

  Because of him.

  He had to help her find her brother’s killer and get out of her life. Payne’s shooting—he’d look in Ace’s trunk as he’d told her he’d do, and then he had to be out of it. The rest of the Colton siblings were going to have to handle this one without him. Unless something required a board vote, of course. He’d always be there for that.

  The Coltons had taken in a five-year-old orphan and made him one of them. He was in the will as an heir. They’d accepted him as family, albeit one step distant from the rest of them, and the debt he owed for that would never be repaid. Beyond that, he loved his job. And until Payne had been shot and Kerry had come back into his sphere, he’d been quite satisfied with his life. Happy, even.

  Kerry’s voice had stopped. Meaning she was off the phone?

  Pulling on the jeans she’d washed the night before, leaving on his T-shirt, and slipping sockless into the tennis shoes he’d worn the day before, he brushed his teeth, grabbed his stuff and headed out to the dining room.

  “Lizzie’s on her way to escort you out to the ranch,” she said. “There’s been no sign of the vehicle that ran you off the road—which is bad, but good in that whoever he was, he’s off the road, at least. I’m thinking your theory that his aggression was meant as a warning, some kind of power control payback, could have been right. If that’s the case, he’s not going to jeopardize a multimillion-dollar business of running drugs or weapons or whatever, just to teach you a lesson.”

  He nodded. Opened his mouth to say “good morning” and probably to tell her that he didn’t need an escort, but she just kept on talking.

  “Dane called. The ballistics report was waiting for him when he got up half an hour ago. They actually got some trace off from the dings in your tailgate, and Lizzie and James found a bullet casing last night. They all match and the news isn’t good.”

  In blue work pants again, a white shirt and with her gun back on her hip instead of under the
pillow she didn’t use, where she’d shown him she was putting it last night in case she was in a compromising position and he had to grab it, she sipped from a cup of coffee, not looking at him.

  “Sorry, I just don’t do well without my coffee,” she said, and then continued. “The bullets came from a .460 Magnum, which is arguably the most powerful handgun made. But it’s not the gun that is of interest. The bullets were armor piercing, prohibited by federal law, which is why they did the damage they did. I believe, and Dane is starting to lean toward agreeing with me, that whatever is going on up on that mountain has to be running illegal guns and/or ammunition. The ranger was either involved, or he stumbled upon the operation, and Tyler probably died because of it, too. I always thought it had to do with drugs, and it might, because Tyler wasn’t into anything else, but we now have proof that there is at least one gun in our country that is shooting ammunition not legally sold here.”

  “Kerry...”

  “I’m heading into the office as soon as Lizzie gets here. I want to follow up with Dane on everything he’s doing, and then I have other work to do.”

  So Payne’s shooting was “other work” to her now?

  She could have more than one official case on her docket. There were only two full-time detectives in the Mustang Valley police department.

  “I’d appreciate it if you get a chance to get up in the attic and look through that trunk, if you’ll let me know what you find...”

  Other work... Wait.

  “You’re going up Mustang Mountain to look for abandoned mines.”

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  “Kerry, you said we’d do this together.” But maybe she had no choice. “Is Dane going with you?”

  Silence was her only answer.

  “Don’t shut me out, Ker, please. Not now.”

  When she looked over at him, when he read in her eyes all the things she wasn’t saying, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’ll look at the trunk when I’m home showering,” he said. “I’ve work to do at the office, but can be available to head up there by noon. Is that good enough?”

  If it wasn’t, he’d negotiate.

  “I’ll pick you up at Colton Oil at noon,” she said.

  You’d have thought she’d just told him she loved him.

  * * *

  Rafe went to the attic first. He passed Grayson on his way up the stairs. They nodded and moved on. Ace wasn’t at the mansion. He didn’t figure Marlowe was there, either. Genevieve had been staying at the hospital. And staff wouldn’t be upstairs cleaning that early—best chance of getting up to the attic and out without having to see anyone.

  He cared about them all. Generally, wasn’t averse to conversation. But these days with Kerry—they were messing with him.

  Something he’d like to sort out for himself, before the siblings got wind of anything.

  Ace’s trunk was a lot fuller than Rafe’s. Made sense. He’d been at the mansion since birth, and had been Payne’s firstborn. They’d seemingly saved everything. Booties. A huge folder of pictures. Dumping them on the attic floor, he spread them out with his palm, not stopping to look at the woman who’d been the only true mother figure in his life. Tessa Colton. He’d loved her more than she’d ever known. Even before Payne adopted him.

  Second only to Kerry, back then.

  He was looking for birth pictures. Hospital photos. There were none. No doctors at all. Moving through school records, an early reading award, he found out that Ace had been in Scouting. None of the others of them had had the opportunity to join in community circles. They’d been held apart. Special.

  By the time he reached the bottom of the trunk, he was drained. And not at all happy with the idea of calling Kerry and telling her he had nothing. She’d be disappointed.

  It seemed like that’s all he ever did—disappoint her.

  Not that she said so. Or would ever call him on it. But it was there in her avoided glances. And in her eyes when she looked at him sometimes, too.

  So his confession the night before had obviously given her the closure he’d known he had to offer. He’d given her that.

  And even that had fallen flat, somehow.

  He was losing her.

  Which was natural. He couldn’t offer her a place at the Colton table. She’d never take it if he did.

  She wasn’t his to lose.

  Hadn’t been for far more years than she had been.

  Opening one more manila envelope in the bottom of the trunk, expecting more photos, Rafe dumped out a slew of cards, all welcoming the new baby.

  One was from the then governor of Arizona. A couple from US senators. Impressed, in spite of the powerful people with whom he’d dined over the years, he leafed through them. Regaining some sense of self. Being a Colton gave you access to people who changed the world, who could right societal wrongs. Being a Colton meant you had a say in some of the policies that governed and protected the American people.

  People like Kerry, and all of the other first responders. People who needed money and support just to do their jobs. People like Tyler, who deserved second chances.

  And like the Native Americans who’d had so much taken from them and were still keeping their culture alive. And all of those who fled horrendous living conditions and risked their lives just to stand on American soil.

  So many times over the years, sitting at dinners meant to honor someone, or to broker an oil deal, he’d had the chance to weigh in on all kinds of policy decisions. And had had calls asking for his support for one bill or another. Mostly to do with programs for kids. He knew what it was like to feel alone in the world—to feel isolated, like Tyler had. He hoped he was making a difference.

  Being a Colton mattered. He was making a difference in the world, just as both of his fathers had always taught him. Looking out for others, as his fathers had done.

  And...was that an appointment card? For Tessa Colton. She was due to see Dr. Carl Hansen. The time was faded, as was the day, but the month and year—three months before Ace was born.

  He’d found the doctor who’d likely delivered Ace.

  Pulling out his phone to call Kerry, he stopped. How much better would it be if he could deliver the doctor to her? At least in person. And if he was at all local, Tucson, even, maybe they could go see him together, yet that day.

  Trying to be respectful, Rafe threw things back in the trunk as quickly as he could. There was no order to any of it, but nothing was damaged and it all fit.

  And ten minutes later, back at his house, he was on the computer, looking up ob-gyn information.

  After all the trouble they’d had locating anyone who’d worked at the hospital when Ace was born, finding Dr. Hansen was incredibly easy.

  He had an address: an upscale, assisted living community. Not surprising. They were all over Arizona. People from all across the United States and Canada flocked to the fifty-five and older communities to enjoy active lifestyles after they retired. Many of them included assisted living units.

  The general offices of the community in which Dr. Hansen lived weren’t open for another half hour so he took the time to shower and shave. Rafe was already in his truck, heading to town when he made the call, intending to make an appointment to speak to Hansen anytime that day he’d see them. Finally, he had something that would please Kerry.

  Some good news to share.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Colton,” the stale female voice on the phone said, after Rafe had asked for the community manager, identified himself and explained why he was calling. All he needed from her was for her to get a message to the doctor to call him. He was a Colton. People always returned his calls. Always. And this was someone who not only knew the family, he’d been intimately acquainted with them, birthing their first child.

  “I just need you to pass on the message,” he said, taking ca
re to remain patient as he explained himself again. He was not going to let Kerry down here.

  Or the family, either. They needed to know who’d switched Ace at birth. To find out who was after them now. And why.

  Selina might think they had to know who the real Ace Colton was, but as far as Rafe was concerned they already knew that. He was at his condo in Mustang Valley, feeling lost and alone.

  And a good bit angry.

  Justifiably so.

  “I’d be happy to pass on the message,” the woman finally said, after putting Rafe on hold while she made another call, he’d presumed, to the doctor. “I’ve just put in a call to his son, who holds his legal and medical power of attorney, and he’s advised that I can tell you that his father can’t help you.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Rafe said, watching his rearview mirror as carefully as the road in front of him. So far, his way into town was sunny and clear. “To the son. Have him call me...”

  “He said he’d be happy to speak with you,” the woman said. “Told me to pass on his number, but the son needs you to know that, until today, he’d had no idea that his father had had a Colton as a patient. He was just a baby forty years ago. And he authorized me to give you the sad news that Dr. Hansen can’t help you, either. He suffers from Alzheimer’s, Mr. Colton. Most times he doesn’t even recognize his own son...”

  Choking back disappointment, ashamed of himself for even feeling it when someone else was suffering so deeply, he offered his sincere condolences to Dr. Hansen’s son and hung up.

  Once again, he was forced to let Kerry down.

  Chapter 19

  By nine that morning, Kerry could no longer convince herself that she wasn’t watching her phone. Rafe had said that he’d be checking the trunk in the attic before coming back into town. Lizzie had been back for an hour and a half, so she knew he’d arrived home safely. And he’d have called with the trunk news, wouldn’t he? Did that mean something had happened to him? Either at the ranch or on his way back into town?