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Fatal Vision: SEALs of Shadow Force, Book 5

Page 4

by Misty Evans


  His hand absently caressed her braid. “You never told me.”

  Damn.

  “But if there’s anything you want me to look into, or you want me to do, I’ll do it. No questions asked.”

  He wanted to help. So did everyone. The only thing Shelby needed, though, seemed to be the one thing no one could give her.

  Answers about that night.

  If she could just get her brain back online, everything would make sense again.

  Since Colton would do anything for her, she was so taking advantage of that. “There is one thing,” she said.

  “Name it. Anything you want.”

  I’d lie a thousand times over…

  Colton Bells…loyal to a fault.

  What she was about to ask him would put that loyalty to the test once again. “Get me out of here.”

  Time paused for a moment. He sensed the offer included joining her in some trouble. “Have the doctors released you?”

  “Hell, no.” Shelby’s blood pulsed in her ears as she waited for him to agree to go against everyone—her family, friends, doctors—and become her cohort in misbehaving.

  It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Shelby,” he started, then clamped his jaws shut.

  Wait. Was he really going to turn her down?

  Confusion filled his eyes. A struggle between doing what he knew was right and what he knew would make her happy.

  “Look,” she said, “I know that I…I’ve made mistakes. My mind and body are a little mixed up right now, and I need to go home—our home—to see if I can figure things out. Will you help me?”

  “What about your therapy?”

  “Colton, I can’t think straight in here, and I can still take therapy a couple times a week. You can bring me.”

  “I don’t know, Shel.”

  She licked her lips and saw the effect it had on him. Ever so slowly, she leaned forward and kissed him.

  Her daddy always talked about heaven as a state of bliss. Total peace. Immense, bone-deep joy.

  Kissing Colton was the closest she’d ever come to that.

  His response was slow, hesitant. Poor guy probably didn’t know what to think—she’d divorced him eighteen months ago, then called him back. Now, she was sitting on his lap, bribing him to break her out of this place.

  “I can’t stand it here any longer.” She leaned her forehead on his. “Take me home.”

  Before she could take a breath, he grasped her by the back of the head and kissed her hard.

  His tongue teased her lips, parting them. It plunged inside, a starving man in need of sustenance.

  Shelby moaned.

  Lightning scorched her from her lips to the ends of her toes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts into his chest.

  Next to them, Salisbury whined.

  This is wrong. So wrong.

  But have mercy, why did it feel so right?

  Through the Colton-induced haze, she heard voices in the hall. The next second, the door flew open, banging against the wall and making her and Colton jump apart.

  Her father filled the doorway. “What the ever-lovin’ hell is going on in here?”

  Chapter Three

  _____________________

  ______________________________________________________

  JUST LIKE OLD times. Reverend Jack Claiborne’s face was a mess of unadulterated hatred and bone-deep fear. The last thing the poor man expected to see was his daughter kissing the honyock he’d begged her not to marry.

  To tell the truth, Colton was pretty damned surprised about it too. Shelby had thrown him out eighteen months ago and he’d never dreamed he’d hear her ask him to take her home again.

  He certainly never expected her to kiss him. Of course, that was a bribe. The lady wanted out of this place, and when Shelby Bedford Claiborne, former Miss Oklahoma with a Masters degree in behavioral sciences and a handy-dandy FBI badge in her proverbial pocket, wanted something, she knew how to get it.

  But hell, he’d take that kind of bribery any time.

  “Daddy, I thought you left,” Shelby said.

  Her father glared at Colton, screwing up his face as if he smelled something rancid. “I received a call about this…”—he waggled a hand in Colton’s direction—“malefactor trespassing and causing trouble.”

  Malefactor. Jack had called him a lot of things in his life, but that was a new one.

  Shelby started to respond, but her dad closed the distance and scooped her up out of Colton’s lap, depositing her back into her wheelchair. “What are you doing here?” he demanded of Colton. “And keep your hands off my daughter.”

  Salisbury, still on the bed, leaped over to Shelby’s lap as if guarding her. Agent Ingram leaned on the doorframe, smiling like the Cheshire Cat, and keeping one eye on the pooch. Another man stood in the hallway talking softly to Shelby’s mom. All Colton could make out of him was blond hair and a tidy blue button-down.

  Colton took his time rising to his feet. “Good to see you again, Jack.”

  “Bullshit, Bells. You’re not wanted here. Get out.”

  For a minister, Jack sure knew how to curse. Colton stood his ground. “I’m not going anywhere until Shelby tells me to.”

  “Jack, don’t be rude.” Martha Claiborne peered over Ingram’s shoulder. The Fed popped off the doorframe, nodded at her, and moved out of the way so she could enter. “Oh,” she said, her gaze landing on her former son-in-law, “Colton. You are here.”

  The overwhelmingly happy greetings really warmed his heart. “Hey, Martha.”

  She obviously wasn’t going to fess up to calling him, so Colton played it her way. He was used to being the fall guy.

  The guy in the blue shirt edged in and waved at Shelby. “Hey, Shelby. Good to see you.”

  She didn’t seem all that happy to see him, but she nodded and gave her dutiful daughter smile. Colton had seen that one a million times. “Hey, Daniel.”

  Nudging Salisbury off her lap, she stood, using her wheelchair to get her balance. Colton stepped closer in case she took a tumble. Jack did, too, glaring at him in challenge.

  “Colton is helping me figure out who shot me, Daddy. He’s really the best chance I’ve got at catching the guy. Can’t you see that?”

  Ingram made an argumentative noise.

  Jack reached for the room phone. “I’m calling security.”

  “You are not.” Martha grabbed his arm. “Shelby’s right. Between Theo and Colton, they can track down the shooter and bring him to justice. None of us is going to get any sleep until that happens.”

  Behind his glasses, Ingram’s eyes widened at the suggestion he and Colton were now working together.

  Colton gave him a howdy partner grin, followed by a fuck you wink.

  Because of course, there was no way on God’s green earth he was working with Mr. FBI Asshole.

  “I can figure this out with Shelby’s help,” Ingram insisted. “I don’t know what Mr. Bells could possibly add to the investigation.”

  Colton started to flip him off, then reined in his finger since Martha was in attendance. He couldn’t keep from shaking his head though.

  “What?” Ingram demanded. “Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Bells?”

  Colton met his condescending stare. “I’m sorry, did I roll my eyes out loud?”

  The blonde therapist from the gym—Ashley? Alicia?—appeared in the doorway. “Is everything okay?”

  “Get some goddamn security down here,” Jack demanded.

  Martha said no, the therapist looked torn, and a second later, Jack, Martha, and Ingram all started talking at once, the therapist jumping into the fray as well.

  The man named Daniel backed out of the room with a knowing smile on his face. Salisbury joined the fun, barking and growling.

  Shelby tried twice to yell over them, her frustration nearly toppling her. Colton caught her around the waist with one arm, raised his fingers to his lips an
d whistled.

  Shelby flinched at the sharp, high-pitched sound, and everyone else froze, snapping their gazes to him.

  “Now that we have your attention…” He held up a hand for Shelby to proceed. “Shelby has something to say.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Mom, Dad, I need to talk to Theo and Colton. Yes, it’s about who took a shot at me, but it also involves the ongoing investigation I was working on before that. Which means, you can’t be in here. I can’t discuss open cases with you.”

  Jack, his face red, pointed at Colton. “He’s not FBI.”

  Ingram now stood next to Jack. He knocked back his jacket, flashing his weapon in its holster again. The guy had a complex. “He definitely should not be in here. He’s a person of interest in the case.”

  “Person of interest?” Martha squeaked and grabbed her chest.

  Shelby sighed heavily. She tried not to lean on Colton, but he could feel the weariness in her body. One from dealing with her family all these years as well as from her recovery. She loved them dearly, but her dad was a pushy bastard. “Theo, I told you, he’s in my file because he’s a source.”

  A source, huh? For what?

  “He’s on the suspect list,” Ingram bit out.

  Ice formed in Colton’s stomach. “I’m getting damn tired of being called a murderer. Someone care to explain?”

  Both Jack and Martha started talking again, Jack shaking a finger at Colton while the therapist shot him a fearful look before she took off, no doubt to grab a couple of security guards.

  “That’s it!” Shelby threw up her hands, and it was a good thing Colton had hold of her, because she took a step forward and nearly crashed into her father. “All of you, out!”

  “We’re not leaving you with him!” Jack yelled.

  And yep, this was exactly the way Colton remembered them. Hot-blooded and full of piss and vinegar.

  Salisbury seemed to think this was fun and started jumping up and down on Shelby, barking playfully. Colton shooed him away and steadied her.

  Jack sneered in Colton’s face. “Get your hands off my daughter.”

  “Stop it, Daddy,” Shelby shoved at Jack’s chest. “He’s not a suspect in my case. You’ve got this all wrong.”

  Then she looked at Ingram and glared at him. “And you, stop trying to protect me, already. You’re as bad as they are. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself! Colton is not on any suspect list, and I was top of my class at the Academy with plenty of commendations in my file. If I thought Colton was a threat, I certainly wouldn’t be standing here pretending otherwise.”

  Her voice echoed off the ceiling. Her body literally vibrated under Colton’s hands.

  Everyone shut up.

  Jaws clenched, she balled her hands into fists at her side. “Daddy, I love you, but you have to trust me. It’s imperative I speak to Colton and Theo alone. I’m not your little girl anymore. I have a life. And while I couldn’t do without you and Mom, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me while I was in a coma, the only person who is going to solve the mystery of my shooting, and bring whoever did it to justice, is me.”

  Heavy, charged silence hung between all of them. Even Salisbury settled down, sitting at Colton’s feet and looking up at Shelby expectantly.

  “Like Martha said, the shooter is still out there, sir,” Colton reminded Jack softly. “He could come after her again.”

  The thought made Jack stand a little taller, as if he could somehow protect Shelby by his sheer mass.

  “Which is exactly why you haven’t let me go home yet,” Shelby said to him. “I’ve made good progress and I’d be fine on my own with a caregiver, but you’re afraid whoever shot me will come after me again. I’m safer here, right?”

  Jack and Martha exchanged a look.

  Yep, as always, Shelby could read them like a book.

  She could always do the same with Colton too, but that went both ways. The truth hit him right in the solar plexus as it dawned on him why she’d really wanted to talk to him.

  “I was a sniper,” he said. “I know how the man thinks, how he operates. Shelby asked me here to pick my brain.”

  “You already tried to find the shooter,” Jack reminded him. “You failed.”

  Failed. The dragon inside his chest flared its nostrils.

  God, he hated that word.

  Shelby trembled, from stress or irritation, he couldn’t be sure. Probably both. It had to kill her not to have control over her body or this situation. “The local police and the FBI failed, too, Daddy, and they had extensive resources that Colton didn’t. The guy is good. A ghost in the wind.”

  Ingram had the good manners to look at the floor at the mention that he and his precious Bureau hadn’t found the shooter either.

  Alicia returned with two security guards who started to shove their way inside. “Sir,” she said to Colton. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “He’s not leaving,” Shelby ground out. “The rest of you are.”

  It took another minute of arguing and grumbling, but finally everyone left, including the therapist and security detail. Shelby insisted to Ingram she was too tired now to talk and that she would call him later. She asked him to leave the file he had in-hand; he refused on grounds that it was confidential FBI information.

  After the room was once more quiet and empty, Shelby crumpled into her wheelchair. Salisbury jumped into her lap, and she absentmindedly petted him. “I can’t believe them sometimes.”

  That was an understatement. “Your mom and dad mean well.”

  “I know, which is why I feel guilty when I get mad at them, but lordy, they wear me out.”

  Colton dropped onto the bed across from her again, feeling pretty wrung out himself. He leaned his elbows on his knees and supported his head in his hands. “What’s this about me being a suspect in a case?”

  “Before this all went down, I was working on a case involving several veterans who were shot and killed. I found what I thought might be a link between them and I wanted your help. I just can’t quite remember why I insisted on meeting with you that night. I mean, why didn’t I just call and explain the case?”

  He had no answer. “You texted and said to meet you at the house asap. You must not have wanted to discuss it over the phone.”

  A shaky hand rubbed at her scar. “There are these gaps in my memory about that day. I don’t remember texting you or even going to the house. I’ve seen a psychologist to help me handle the trauma, but nothing about that day has surfaced yet. The doctors say it may never emerge, or it could all come back tomorrow. Anyway, Theo must have gotten clearance from the doctors to question me about it today.”

  “Why did you think I could help?”

  She hesitated and shrugged. “Guess we have to find out.”

  “How are we going to do that if Ingram has your file?”

  “I have a backup in my safe at home.”

  Ah ha. “Another reason you want me to bust you out of here.”

  She gave him a half-hearted smile. “Returning to the scene of the shooting is imperative, even if I’m not excited about what it might bring up, and I wasn’t lying about wanting to get out of here.”

  “Pretty swanky place. Three squares and a private room. It may not be beauty queen fancy, but it’s not bad.”

  She flipped him the bird at the beauty queen reference. “You’re not going to talk me into staying.”

  Same old Shelby. “You are currently at my mercy. Try to remember that.”

  That got him the double bird and he laughed.

  Laughing felt good. He hefted himself off the bed and took the handles of her wheelchair. “Your carriage awaits, beauty queen. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  THEIR HOUSE WASN’T handicap friendly.

  Luckily, Colton had snagged her walker from the therapy center.

  Such good memories. Shelby stared at the house, remembering running through the halls when her grand
parents were still alive. Sunday dinners, holidays, birthdays.

  After her grandpa passed and Grandma Vanessa moved into a retirement home, Shelby had bought the place from her. Soon after, she and Colton had married and she still remembered vividly the day he’d carried her over the threshold after their wedding. The late nights in each other’s arms, the stolen weekends together when he’d fly home on leave.

  The talk about starting a family.

  She wanted several kids. Colton, none.

  Having the childhood he’d experienced could do that to someone. They’d fought about it often, Shelby determined to reassure him he would be a good dad. That he would never abandon his own child.

  Being in the SEALs, though, meant that he could die at any time. He’d refused to bring a child into the world who might end up fatherless.

  Now, a sad, faded For Sale sign leaned against the house’s wood siding. How did that get back out here?

  Jack Claiborne, no doubt. Shelby had taken the sign down two days after the realtor put it up eighteen months ago, unable to stand seeing it every time she looked out the window or came home from work. There was no way she could sell the place. Her grandparents had basically founded this town and had raised their family here. She planned to do the same.

  Hard to do when you were divorced, but Shelby wasn’t about to let that stop her.

  Colton’s gaze landed on the sign as he opened her truck door. “No takers, huh?”

  There had been two different couples, in fact. The realtor had been giddy at the prospect of a bidding war. Now? “I doubt anyone wants a house where the previous owner was shot on the front steps.”

  Colton caught the sarcasm in her voice. “Touché. Let’s get you inside.”

  She asked him for the walker, but he ignored her, sweeping her off the truck seat and carrying her up the steps to the porch swing where he deposited her.

  “I want to sit here for a moment,” she told him, breathing in fresh air and enjoying the view.

  “No can do.” His dark gaze swept the cul-du-sac, hesitating for a moment on the vacant house to the southeast. The one where her shooter had supposedly stood. “Too dangerous.”

 

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