AspenTrilogy (Boxed Set)

by Cindy Stark

  Although Milo had great intentions, this was wrong. She would not allow her mistakes to drive a wedge between these people who obviously cared a great deal about each other. "I can't do this."

  Milo and his mother both turned to her with incredulous looks on their faces.

  "I don't care how messed up my life is. I'm not going to let it ruin yours, too." She switched her glance from Milo to Nancy. "We're not really married."

  "Shit." Milo folded his arms and glared at her.

  His mother blinked a few times before dropping to the couch. She took a deep breath. "Someone better start explaining."

  "Damn it, Ariana. How the hell are we going to make this work if you can't follow orders?"

  "Ariana?" His mom looked at Milo. "Orders?" She turned to Ariana.

  "I don't care, Milo. I'm not going to make it work if it's going to hurt people like this. My father has already done enough damage to far too many lives." Ariana took a seat at the opposite end of the couch.

  The older woman shifted a wary gaze toward her.

  "I apologize for the upset, Mrs. Sykes. Milo has been guarding me until I testify at my father's trial. I was supposed to stay out of sight, but a couple of Milo's friends saw me. Milo came up with this story as a cover. But I can see now, it's never going to work."

  "It would work just fine if you'd do what I ask," Milo threw back at her.

  His mother turned a questioning brow to her son. "I thought you'd left the Marshals Service. Is there something else you need to tell me? And since when is it okay to lie to your mother?"

  "Her life is in danger, Mom. I have to do whatever it takes." He sat in a chair opposite them. "Quinn was out of options where Ariana is concerned and asked me to help out."

  His mom nodded as though she was finally connecting the pieces. "Ariana…would that be Ariana Trasatti?"

  Milo cursed. "See Ariana? Now two people in Aspen know your identity. Soon it will be four, then eight—"

  "Excuse me, young man. I take offense to that. I am quite capable of keeping a secret."

  "Yeah? What about Sue? You tell her everything. Do you really think she's going to keep quiet?"

  So much for helping the two of them reconcile.

  "You know for a fact I don't tell her everything. I didn't say anything about—" She stopped, flicking a glance at Ariana. "I can keep things to myself. Don't you dare insinuate that I can't."

  Milo rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his upturned palms. A half-growl, half-groan rumbled from deep in his chest. He sat up, giving Ariana a pointed look. "Short of burying you in an underground cave, Aspen is still our safest bet. We're going to continue with this charade, and you will not tell another soul. Do you understand? I don't care how bad you feel for them. These are my relationships to worry about, not yours."

  The whip of his words stung, reminding her she was the outsider here, no matter how much she'd warmed to the small town.

  He eyed his mother with the same severe expression. "You are sworn to secrecy as well. If you talk, she could die. Do you understand?"

  Nancy tossed a challenging glare at him.

  "If neither of you say anything, we can still pull this off. It's less than three weeks. Twenty days. Do we have an agreement?"

  His mother's annoyed glare remained firmly in place. He returned the expression before shifting to Ariana. "Well?"

  "I promise."

  The look in his eyes demanded compliance. "I will hold you to it."

  "Enough of your browbeating, Milo. We both agreed." His mother stood. "I hope you're planning to stay for dinner."

  "Nah, we gotta go."

  "I haven't seen you in over two weeks, and you're refusing dinner?"

  Milo rolled his eyes. "Ariana should stay out of sight as much as possible."

  "I think being inside my house is just as much out of sight as your house is. Come on, daughter." She held a hand out to Ariana. "We can make some sweet tea while Milo works off his frustrations that we women seem to cause him." She turned to her son. "I can barely open that damn gate."

  His gaze flickered between the two of them. "Fine." The twinkle in his eye reappeared, and it warmed her like sunshine after a week's worth of rain. "But no conspiring while I'm gone."

  Ariana grasped Nancy's hand and stood, grateful the woman's overall pleasant attitude had returned.

  Milo's mother fibbed about making tea. She already had a pitcher chilling in the fridge. She piled two glasses with ice and poured the refreshing liquid over the cubes, making them crackle and pop. "It's such a nice day. Let's sit on the back porch."

  Nancy's kitchen door led to a beautiful garden haven. The edges of the raised redwood patio segued into an old-fashioned garden. Pink and rose hollyhocks danced on the other side of the railing, poking their heads in to say hello. A gorgeous white rose crept up a trellis nailed to the side of the house.

  Off to the side, two teakwood rockers and a small bistro table awaited them. Nancy relaxed into one, and Ariana followed suit.

  Before either of them could start the conversation, Milo came around the side of the house, carrying a large red toolbox. The muscles in his bicep strained from the weight of the container. He stopped at the stairs to the patio and set down the tools. "I forgot to mention, I checked on Karen. She's out of the hospital and doing much better."

  "I know," his mom responded with a playful, yet sassy reply. "Who do you think drives her to therapy?"

  "You, of course." He flicked a glance back and forth between the two of them, narrowing his eyes. "My gut still tells me it's a mistake to leave you alone."

  "There's not much you can do about it now, is there?" His mom winked at Ariana, and the camaraderie between them lit a dark place inside her.

  "I hate to say it, but no, it doesn't appear there is." He grasped the bottom of his shirt and tugged it over his head, tossing the piece of clothing to his mom. His muscled chest gleamed under the midday sun, and Ariana traced each curve of his glorious skin with her eyes.

  "For heaven's sake, put your shirt back on, Milo." His mother threw it back to him. "This woman is not your love interest as you pointed out, and you don't need to be strutting around half-naked, making her uncomfortable."

  Milo hung his shirt over the railing instead. "This is one of my good shirts. I'm not about to get it dirty. You asked me to fix your gate, and I am. You don't like seeing me half-naked? Don't look." He picked up the toolbox again, his muscles flexing to accommodate the weight, and he headed toward a little gate that separated the backyard from a chicken pen. The chickens clucked and scurried around as he approached.

  "I'm sorry, dear. He really was brought up with better manners than that."

  "It's fine." It was more than fine. She tore her gaze from Milo to find his mom watching her with a discerning look. "I had a brother who always ran around with no shirt, so I'm used to shirtless men." Goodness. That sounded bad. She took a drink of sweet tea, hoping to cool her heated blood before Nancy figured out she had daily fantasies about her son.

  "Had?"

  She fought to get her brain on track. "Well, technically I still have my brother, but I doubt I'll ever see him again. When I turned against my father, I more-or-less kissed my whole family goodbye."

  "I see." His mom rocked in her chair. "That must be very difficult for you."

  The sound of a power drill snagged Ariana's attention, and she turned to find Milo crouched down by the small gate. She took another sip, watching him over the rim of her frosty glass. A man who could work with his hands was a very attractive thing.

  He leaned and put something on the ground before using the drill again.

  "Ariana?" His mother interrupted her appreciation of the spectacular view.

  She focused on her pretend mother-in-law, praying her cheeks weren't as red as they were warm. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

  The corners of her mouth twitched, and Ariana was sure she'd been busted. "I said it must be very difficult for you
to leave all your family behind."

  "It's been very challenging. I've had a strained relationship with my father for years, and my mother died when I was young." Quite possibly at the hands of her father. "So, I don't miss them so much. But my brother and my cousins, I do. And I continually worry about my best friend. She knows I'm in protective custody, but there has been so much speculation on the news about me. I wish I could speak to her, just for a second, to reassure her. She's been the one truly positive person in my life."

  Kindness and understanding radiated from his mother's blue eyes. "But no contact, correct?"

  She nodded. "No contact whatsoever. Especially now that I'm in deep cover."

  "Milo and I can appreciate your loss. His dad was killed a few years back. It can be tough learning to live without people you love."

  "What happened to him, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "He was a deputy sheriff, just like Milo is now, which has been a sore point of contention between us. At the time, Milo was stationed overseas in the Army. It was an ordinary day, much like today. My husband pulled a car over for speeding. They were drug dealers traveling en route from Los Angeles who couldn't afford to get busted for the third time. They chose to shoot Milo's father instead. In the end, they still went to prison, and we suffered for nothing."

  Ariana stopped rocking, sick with heartache for them. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how horrible that had to be."

  "For me, yes, but especially for Milo. He slapped on a coat of guilt faster than you can blink an eye. He says he should have been here. Like that would have made a difference. He's always had this desire to protect people, you know. I guess it bothered him that he wasn't able to save his father from harm. After that, he followed an army buddy, and they joined the Marshals. That was all good until that girl got killed."

  "What girl?"

  His mom finished her tea, the ice cubes clinking when she straightened her glass. "That's something Milo will have to tell you. I promised to stay quiet on the matter, and you know he's already accused me of being a blabber mouth."

  The drill whizzed again and then thumped.

  Ariana glanced back to Milo. He stood and lifted the gate to the side before turning toward them. He sauntered across the lawn, his ripped jeans hugging his hips, his gaze trained on her. She watched with fascination. He reminded her of a wildcat approaching its prey. If he took her right now, she wouldn't care. Well, except his mother was there.

  He climbed the steps to the patio, looked down at her and smiled. "Enjoying your afternoon?"

  "It's a little warm out here." She licked her bottom lip, trying to add moisture, but her tongue was just as dry.

  "Really? I thought it was perfect." He held her gaze for a second longer than a person would in a platonic relationship, and she started to wonder if he referred to her instead of the weather. Then just as quick, he looked away. "Where did you put the new hinges, Mom?"

  "They're on top of the fridge."

  Milo left to retrieve the hardware, and the conversation stalled until he returned. He said nothing when he reappeared, but headed straight back to the gate.

  She withheld the hum of appreciation that hovered on her lips as he crossed the yard.

  "Honey?"

  Not again. She jerked her gaze back to his mother, releasing an embarrassed laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm a little distracted today."

  "I can see why. Milo's a handsome man."

  Full-blown heat erupted on her face this time. "No, I mean—"

  "It's okay, Ariana. You're not the first woman to trip over my son." She heaved a deep sigh. "I'm just waiting for the day he falls for a good girl. I'd like to have grandbabies before I'm too old to enjoy them."

  "He had a serious girlfriend at one point, didn't he?" The woman had redecorated his whole house. "What happened to her?"

  "Dena? She was a two-bit, white-trash…" She stopped. "You get my drift. She wanted Milo's money, but she couldn't keep her legs together long enough to get it."

  That had to be an interesting story. She was sure it must have been painful for Milo, but she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry that they'd broken up. "That's terrible."

  "It was. Everyone knew about her and kept warning Milo, but he's a loyal sort of guy. He didn't want to believe she'd lied to him. When he finally learned the truth, it broke his heart, and he's done nothing but play with women since then." She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong. He doesn't hurt them the way Dena hurt him, but he does have a way with the ladies."

  Ariana wished he'd show more of that side to her. They'd had their one flirtatious evening along with one hell of a sexy kiss, but then he'd shut down like an illegal firearms dealer busted by the feds, and she hadn't been able to get anything out of him since. And she wasn't going to try, she reminded herself.

  At least she understood Milo better now. Danny's brutal murder had closed off a vital part of her heart as well. "I guess sometimes things happen that cause a lot of damage. Damage that deep takes time to heal."

  His mother widened her eyes. "Sounds like you have some experience with this as well."

  She nodded. "More than I would like."

  "All done," Milo announced as he approached the house, carrying the toolbox. From the look on his face, it was obvious he was enjoying the moment. She didn't know if his happiness stemmed from being at his childhood home, or the beautiful sunny day, but she liked seeing him relaxed and unguarded. And sure enough, there was a dark smudge across his impressive abs.

  "Looks like you're a dirty boy," Ariana teased, wanting to reach out and wipe the mark from his stomach.

  "Yeah?" He set down the tool box and stepped toward her. "Want a hug?"

  "No." She laughed and shrank back in her chair.

  A wide grin split Nancy's face as she glanced between her and Milo. "Milo, why don't you get cleaned up and join us?"

  The rest of the afternoon and evening rushed by in a haze of laughter and great food. Milo's mother was a wonderful woman, and spending time with her magnified the hole left by her own mother.

  "We have to get going, Mom." Milo stood and extended a hand to help Ariana out of her chair.

  Nancy glanced toward the sky. "Always in a hurry."

  "We've been here five hours." Milo leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "We'll come again soon if that's all right with you and Ariana."

  Warmth rushed through her. "Are you kidding? I'd love it. I haven't had a conversation with a woman in a long time. Thank you, Nancy, for welcoming me into your home." Ariana leaned in to hug her pretend mother-in-law.

  "Let me stand up and hug you proper." Nancy rose and pulled Ariana in for a tight embrace. "I like this girl," she said to Milo. "You'd better bring her back before she has to leave."

  The thought of leaving Aspen left a bittersweet mark on Ariana's full heart.

  "And don't you be saying anything if I show up at your place. After all, she's supposedly my new daughter-in-law. It's only natural I'd be visiting her."

  * * *

  The next day, Ariana waited until the dust from Milo's truck had settled on the road before she hurried into the kitchen and turned on the TV to the national news channel. Milo had advised her to not watch, but trying to contain her curiosity about what was happening in the outside world was like trying to keep a bee away from its hive.

  She filled the kitchen sink with sudsy water and slipped in their bowls and mugs from breakfast. She'd barely washed a cup when the familiar image of her popped up on the screen. Funny, but she couldn't remember anyone taking that photo of her.

  As usual, the reporter recounted the basics of the case, the same information she'd heard before, including reports of her death. She would think most people would be tired of hearing this story by now.

  "In an effort to aid the investigation into the disappearance of lead witness, Ariana Trasatti," the news anchor continued, "a woman claiming to be her closest friend stepped forward and offered to identify a body that was pulled from the Chicago
River yesterday. The police declined MacKenzie Harmon's request to be of assistance, stating they had sufficient evidence to identify the body, but they were holding off on the official announcement. Ms. Harmon, a college roommate of Ms. Trasatti's, spoke to our own Kent Davis and had this to say."

  A heavy lump of despair choked Ariana as a visibly upset Kenzie appeared on screen. Her normally gorgeous auburn hair had been pulled back into a lanky ponytail and obviously hadn't been washed for days. She'd forgone makeup, leaving noticeably dark moons hovering beneath her eyes.

  "I don't know why they won't let me see her. I could save them a lot of time and taxpayer dollars spent trying to identify her."

  "You and Ms. Trasatti were close then?"

  "She was the only sister I've ever had." Kenzie's voice quivered as she spoke, and Ariana knew without a doubt, she was clinging to her last thread of sanity. "I know that bastard murdered her." Desperation grew with each of her words. "I just want to see her. I want to hold her hand one last time. I don't care what shape her body is in."

  "When you say 'sister', do you mean biological sister?"

  "She's my sister in every way that counts, and I love her. Why won't they let me see her?"

  Ariana tried to swallow past her own tears now coursing down her cheeks.

  The camera abandoned the pitiful picture of Kenzie and cut back to the anchor. "As you can see, there are many who are waiting and wondering about the identity of this young woman. Authorities are saying the information is forthcoming, but they refuse to give an exact date or time."

  Ariana watched blindly for another minute before shutting off the TV. The haunting sound of an empty house echoed around her. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and then sought out a tissue.

  Shutting her eyes, she willed the image of Kenzie to fade, but the thought of her poor, tormented friend slashed at her with razor-sharp claws. She couldn't let Kenzie suffer on her behalf.

  She padded down the hall to her bedroom, knowing what she had to do. The phone Quinn had given her lay in the drawer where she'd stashed it the first day she'd arrived. She pulled it out, her insides nauseated by distress. She dialed Quinn's number and waited. After five rings, it went to voicemail.