The Savior: COLTER (Cover Six Security Book 6)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Her gaze slid to Tim, the laid-back volunteer who had been on the island working with them for two weeks already. Maybe he wasn't the best worker—he had a tendency to disappear for an hour at a time, and his cheery mellow mood when he returned left no doubt as to what he'd been doing while he was gone. But his heart was in the right place, he tried to do whatever was asked of him...and he was simply gorgeous. Not in a male cover model kind of way—he didn't have that glossy perfection or refined edge she always associated with cover models. Tim was more of the sporty guy-next-door, with shaggy, sun-kissed hair and dimples and an adorable crooked smile.

  She'd been flirting with him for the last two weeks, had thought about maybe doing more than flirt. Why not? She was a grown woman, she wasn't involved with anyone and had no desire for a relationship, and Tim looked like he would be fun. There was nothing wrong with having a little fun, as long as it was after-hours and they were discreet about it. Tim would be the perfect distraction from the long hours they worked each day, and the monotony of doing the same thing over and over.

  At least, that's what she'd thought—until the Millers showed up a few days ago.

  The retired couple was here with their granddaughter, a painfully shy and awkward girl who looked and acted younger than her eighteen years. She was average but still pretty, in an oddly wholesome kind of way that Allison didn't understand.

  And right now, she was sitting with Tim, a shy smile on her face as he flirted with her. She didn't flirt back but there was something about the way she sat there, like she was hanging on every word, ready to jump and do his bidding if he so much as snapped his fingers.

  Allison rinsed the soap from a heavy pot and placed it upside down on the counter rack to dry. She nudged Hannah and lowered her voice. "Do you think there's something off with Katie?"

  "Off?" Hannah glanced over her shoulder and watched the younger girl. "What do you mean, off?"

  "I don't know. She's just..." Allison's voice drifted off as she tried to find the right words. A list ran through her mind, each one studied and discarded for not being quite right. "I mean, look at her. The way she sits there, hanging on every word coming out of Tim's mouth. It's not like he's the world's best conversationalist."

  "You sure you're not just jealous?"

  "What?" Allison spun around, saw the teasing laughter in Hannah's pale brown eyes. "Why would I be jealous?"

  "Because you have a crush on Tim."

  "I do not."

  Hannah raised one eyebrow. "So you're telling me you haven't thought about taking him down to the beach for a moonlit stroll?"

  "A stroll? No. Something else—maybe."

  "Mm-hm. Like I said: jealous."

  "I'm not jealous." Was she? Allison refused to admit to even the possibility. "Besides, she's just a kid."

  "She's only a few years younger than we are."

  "Yeah, I know. Which is another reason why I think there's something off with her."

  Hannah shook out the dishtowel she had been using and carefully draped it over the long rod attached to the wall to dry. She crossed her arms in front of her, her expression thoughtful as she studied the small group of volunteers gathered around the scattered tables.

  "I think Katie has just been very sheltered, that's all."

  "Sheltered?"

  "Yes. Haven't you seen the way her grandparents are always watching her? She's never out of their sight and she always checks with them before she does anything. Almost like she's asking permission."

  "I think you're seeing things."

  "Am I?" Hannah playfully nudged her in the side. "Then so are you. Trust me, Tim isn't interested in Katie. Not like that. You still have your chance for that little stroll on the beach and there's absolutely no reason for you to be jealous."

  "Hm. If you say so." But Allison wasn't looking at Hannah, she was watching Katie—and feeling the slow burn of jealousy heat her chest...

  The memory, just one of many bitter ones, faded. Allison blinked, her gaze focusing on her feet, on the scuffed toes of her battered shoes and the beginnings of a hole along the canvas side. She took a deep breath and released it slowly, clasped her hands tighter and shifted her gaze to the two men sitting across from her.

  Ryder.

  Colter.

  Both of them watched her, with varying degrees of patience—or rather, impatience, at least on her brother's part.

  "Do you remember Katie? From the island?"

  Both men reacted as soon as they heard the name. Anger and regret crossed her brother's face. One hand curled into a fist, then slowly uncurled as he pressed it hard against his thigh. Colter's reaction was less obvious but she sensed him stiffening, felt his dark eyes rest on her with an intensity she didn't dare meet.

  It was her brother who finally spoke, his voice gruff and filled with regret.

  "What about her?"

  "I think—I think she tried to tell me what was going on once. It was a week before you came down. She, uh, she was helping clean up after dinner and..." Allison swallowed, tried to push the memory away.

  Katie, still shy and quiet, her small hands curled in the towel she was using to dry the dishes.

  Her wide eyes, darting nervously back and forth before resting on Allison's, only to quickly slide away again.

  Her voice, barely more than a whisper as she spoke, each word hesitant and unsure.

  My grandparents aren't the people you think they are.

  Allison took a deep breath and dropped her own gaze, unable to look at either of the men watching her. She couldn't even look at the man they called Ox, who was leaning against the far wall, arms folded across his chest.

  "I blew her off when she told me. Laughed and made some kind of joke about it."

  "Allison, you couldn't have known—"

  "No?" Her gaze shot to Colter, moved away. "Maybe not. But I could have asked her to explain. I could have asked her what she meant. If I had, maybe I could have done something. But I didn't—because I didn't care. I—"

  She took a deep breath, squeezed her hands even tighter as she stared down at them. "I didn't care because I didn't like Katie that much. I—I was jealous so I brushed her off."

  Silence greeted her confession, the weight of it suffocating. Her heart beat in her chest, heavy thuds that pressed against her breastbone with a dull pain that echoed in her temples. She squeezed her hands even tighter and blinked against the burning in her eyes.

  "I ran into her six months ago. Out in California. It was a complete accident, we just happened to be in the same coffee shop. I apologized and she, uh, she told me it wasn't my fault. It wasn't any of our faults. She told me there was nothing any of us could have done." Another deep breath, this one ragged and worn. "She tried to kill herself a month later."

  "Oh damn. Allison—"

  She brushed Ryder's concern away, held him off with one abrupt wave of her hand. "She's fine. She didn't die. And...and she's getting help. Getting back on her feet."

  "That's why you came here, isn't it?"

  She looked up at Colter, trying to read the expression in his eyes. But there was nothing to see, just a careful blankness that hid every thought, every emotion.

  "Yeah. I had to. I thought—maybe, if I could help other women, other girls, it would make up for what I didn't do for Katie. Because no matter what she said, it is my fault. If I had listened to her, I could have helped and maybe stopped everything else that happened on that damn island."

  "Allison—"

  She shook her head and jumped to her feet. "All I wanted to do was come here to help girls like Katie. Only I screwed this up, too, and because of that, Shonda might be in even more trouble. And it's my fault. All of it."

  She spun on her heel and hurried down the hall, away from her brother and Colter.

  Away from the judgment she knew she'd see in their eyes.

  Away from the guilt that she knew would always follow her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Colter watche
d as Allison disappeared into the far bedroom and closed the door behind her. Boomer stood up, ready to go after her, but Colter grabbed him.

  "I need to talk to my sister."

  "No. She doesn't need you making things worse."

  "Like you know what she needs?"

  Colter stood, his chest less than an inch away from Boomer's, his eyes locked on his friend's. "I know she doesn't need you hounding her and making her feel worse."

  "I'm not—"

  "Maybe you think you won't but I know you, Boom. You and Al are constantly butting heads. You might go in there with the best of intentions but something will happen to make you lose your temper. Or something will come out of that mouth of yours to make her feel worse instead of better."

  "Bullshit."

  "Listen to him, man." Ox moved closer, ready to come between them if needed. "Let the Ninja handle it. You know he's better at finessing things than you are."

  Boomer's eyes flared with protectiveness. "It's not his finessing that I'm worried about."

  Colter didn't rise to the accusation. He didn't say anything, just stood there, his gaze unflinching. Maybe Boomer knew what had happened between them, maybe he was only guessing. It didn't matter, not when Allison was hurting. Not when she was busy convincing herself she was responsible for all the evil in the world.

  Boomer finally stepped back, ran both hands through his hair with a low growl. "What was she even talking about? What is she doing here?"

  "It's a long story and now isn't the time."

  "The hell it's not. I need someone to tell me what the fuck is going on before I start bashing heads in."

  "I will tell you. After I check on Allison."

  Boomer crossed his arms and glared at Colter. "Fine. Check on her. I'll be right here waiting."

  "No, you won't. You're coming with me." Ox grabbed his arm and tugged, only to have Boomer brush him off.

  "I'm not going anywhere."

  "Yeah, you are. We need to run to the store and I have no idea what kind of food your sister likes."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "If she's going to stay here, she needs food. This place doesn't come equipped with groceries, you know that. Now come on. Let's go."

  Colter ignored Boomer's grumbling, waited until Ox had pulled him through the door. He locked it and threw the deadbolt then moved down the hall, pausing only long enough to rap his knuckles against the door. He didn't wait for Allison to answer, simply walked in.

  She was curled up on the bed, her back to him. Colter didn't need to see her face to know she was staring at the blank wall, her mind focused on something only she could see. Maybe it was scenes from her time on the island, or from any of the other many places she had volunteered. Maybe she was looking back at every encounter she ever had, wondering if she had missed something, wondering if there was another girl she might have been able to help.

  Maybe she was seeing Katie, on the island where the girl had been forced to exist in a living nightmare.

  Or maybe she was seeing the face of another girl, one with different circumstances but who was stuck in the same nightmare.

  It didn't matter what Allison was seeing as she stared at that blank wall because she would still blame herself. Still convince herself that she had the power to save the world. Only the innocence of her certainty had been stripped away by harsh reality. That was what was different about her now. He'd sensed it a few nights ago but hadn't been able to figure it out. Part of him mourned the loss of the woman she had been when he first met her, with her ready smile and laughing eyes and exuberant confidence that she could right all the wrongs in the world, one day at a time.

  Maybe that was what had drawn him to her in the first place, that basic difference in self she had, so completely opposite of his own. Not innocence—at least, not in the typical sense—but an unfailing optimism that gave her such a different perspective on life.

  That optimism was gone now and Colter wished there was some way he could restore it. There wasn't, of course. That was the downside of reality: all too often it sucked.

  "It's not your fault, Allison."

  "I don't feel like talking."

  "Too damn bad." He saw her tense at the words, felt her surprise at his harsh voice. She shifted, turned her head and watched him with a wary expression as he walked around the bed and sat on the edge next to her.

  He leaned over her, trapping her between his hip and one arm, holding her in place with the force of his gaze. "You're not responsible for what happened to Katie."

  "If I had listened to her—"

  "What would you have done, Al? Rescued her? Dragged her away from the Millers?"

  "Yes. I could have—"

  "Bullshit." She flinched at the low oath, tried to slide away but he leaned closer, holding her in place. "What do you think would have happened if you had tried?"

  "I don't know—"

  "He would have killed you, and probably Katie, too."

  "No—"

  "Al, he was a monster. They both were. He killed Tim. Do you honestly think he would have hesitated to kill anyone else? You know what he was doing. He would have stopped anyone who got in his way."

  "Those guns didn't have anything to do with Katie. I could have taken her—"

  "Taken her where, Allison? There was no place to go."

  "We could have gone to the other island. I could have called someone for help."

  "You would have never made it that far and you know it."

  "But I should have tried!"

  "And what? Get killed in the process, like you almost did last night?" His voice rose with each word, surprising him as much as it obviously surprised Allison. He leaned back, took a deep breath and forcefully searched for the calm he prided himself on. It almost worked—until Allison spoke again.

  "That's not the same."

  "Not the same?" He repeated the words, his voice low and filled with disbelief. "Not. The. Same. Allison, some punk riddled your car with bullets! Do you honestly think he wasn't trying to kill you?"

  "Why are you yelling?"

  "I'm not yelling!" Except he was and he didn't understand why. No, he understood why; what he didn't understand was how he'd suddenly lost control of his usual calm.

  Allison pushed up on her elbows and stared at him, her brows pulled low over her eyes. "You're mad at me."

  "I'm not mad."

  "You are. This is because I left the other night, isn't it?"

  "No, Allison, this has nothing to do with you leaving." Maybe it did but he'd brushed those emotions away already. Even if he hadn't, now wasn't the time for that conversation.

  "Then why are you so mad?"

  "Because I'm damn tired of watching people try to kill you!" The words fell from his mouth, unexpected and unbidden. He jerked back, already regretting the outburst. Regretting saying too much, revealing too much.

  He started to move, to push away. Coming in here was a mistake, he should have just let Boomer handle things. He'd been so damned convinced he could make things better but instead, he'd only made things worse.

  A hand closed over his, stopping him. He stared down at it, noticing how small it was compared to his, how pale and fragile. Except Allison wasn't fragile, she never had been. She had a unique inner strength, an innate inner good. She wasn't afraid to strike out on her own to do what she thought needed to be done. Maybe she didn't always go about it the right way, maybe she lacked street smarts and survival savvy, but she didn't give up.

  And that scared him because he knew, without a doubt, that she wouldn't stop trying to save the world. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. She'd head back to the streets, searching for the girl Shonda, and she wouldn't stop until she found her. Until she saved her.

  Unless someone else stopped her first—permanently.

  He'd be damned if he let that happen.

  He squeezed her hand and quickly released it. "I'll find Shonda. Make sure she's safe."

&
nbsp; "How? You don't even know where to look for her."

  "I found you, didn't I?"

  "That's not the same."

  "I said I'd find her."

  Allison watched him for a long time, long enough that he grew uncomfortable and shifted away from her. He didn't like what he saw in her eyes, didn't want to see the gratitude flashing in their depths. He wanted—

  It didn't matter what he wanted. And if he were smart, he'd leave now. But how could he leave, when Allison was watching him that way? Because there was more than gratitude in her eyes, much more. Things he'd been fantasizing about for the last year danced in her gaze.

  Want.

  Need.

  Hunger.

  "Colter—"

  "You should get some rest. It's been a long few days for you."

  "I'm not tired."

  "Allison—" He didn't know what he wanted to say and it didn't matter because she was suddenly in his arms and her mouth was on his. Warm. Soft. Sweet. Had she moved first, or had it been him? Did it matter?

  No, it didn't.

  He tightened his arms around her, held her closer as he deepened the kiss. Tasting. Conquering.

  Surrendering.

  He told himself to move slow. To savor every taste, every touch, every second. His good intentions fled as soon as her hands drifted inside his shirt. He deepened the kiss, his hunger escaping in a low moan as he pushed her back on the bed. A sigh of disappointment escaped her parted lips when he broke the kiss. The sigh changed to a sharp gasp of need when his hand dipped between her legs, cupping her through the worn denim of her jeans. She tilted her hips, pressed herself against his palm.

  "Colter. Please."

  He pushed to his knees, made quick work of their clothes until flesh pressed against flesh. Hot. Tempting. Decadent.

  Colter leaned forward, caught the tight peak of one rosy nipple in his mouth and pulled. She gasped, her back arching as he licked and sucked. Her hips rocked, searching as he slid one hand down along her stomach. Her hip. Lower, the tips of his fingers skimming the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. Slow, back and forth, sliding higher to stroke the damp flesh between her legs. She gasped again, spread her legs wider, her hips rocking faster.