Colton's Amnesia Target (The Coltons of Kansas)

by Kimberly van Meter - A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska)

  Especially not the two dead people who were still waiting for justice.

  * * *

  Clint wasn’t sure what he hoped to gain by visiting Alex in jail while he awaited his arraignment but he supposed he needed some kind of closure.

  Cook County Jail wasn’t a place he’d ever thought to visit, and after being thoroughly searched for any contraband, he was certain he never wanted to return.

  The razor-wire cyclone fence enclosing the drab facility was a reminder that no one was getting in or out without clearance. It was a far cry from what Alex was accustomed to. The reality that Alex was going away for a very long time hit him in the gut. He shouldn’t but he felt bad for the guy.

  Hell, it was hard to forget that he’d been his closest friend. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t.

  Alex shuffled into the visitor booth. His ill-fitting khaki scrubs hung from his frame as if he’d lost twenty pounds in the weeks since he’d been arrested. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his head was shorn. Alex picked up the receiver and Clint did the same. The jail smelled of sweat, urine and sadness.

  “You look like hell,” Clint said, leading with the easiest observation. “What happened to your hair?”

  Alex ran his hand over his nearly bald head. “Lice outbreak. It’s easier to shave the inmates than treat the lice. One and done, problem solved.” He paused a beat, then asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” Clint admitted, feeling like an idiot. “I just wanted some closure, I guess.”

  “I’ve already told you everything. My lawyer said I’m not supposed to say anything else.”

  “I’m not looking for a confession.”

  “Then what are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Still trying to wrap my head around what happened. What you did.”

  “Yeah, welcome to my hell. If I had an answer for myself, I’d give it to you. I don’t know. Addiction is a terrible thing. It takes your normal thought process and turns it upside down.”

  Clint nodded. It was an honest answer. “You okay in here?”

  “Hey, it’s my reality and I earned it. I’m not shying away from what I did. Whatever happens is my karma.”

  “Stop being so damn apologetic,” Clint growled, knowing he sounded irrational. “It’s hard to hate you when you’re all pathetic behind this glass.”

  “I hate myself enough for the both of us. I got you covered, buddy.”

  In spite of everything, Clint chuckled. “Good.” His smile faded. “Everything else okay?”

  “I’ve been put in solitary for my safety. I’m considered a white-collar criminal, and since I paid someone to do my dirty work, I’m real low on the totem pole. My lawyer is working on getting me transferred to a different facility. One that’s not quite so rough.”

  “I hope it works out for you,” he said, meaning it. The threat was over. He couldn’t hold on to the hatred eating him up inside. Alex messed up and he was paying for it. Even though Alex had done something terrible, Clint couldn’t hate him.

  “You okay?” Alex asked, surprising him. “Are you safe?”

  “Do you mean is your hit man still out there gunning for my ass?”

  “Not in so many words, but yeah.”

  “You can sleep easy. Your hit man tried to attack me in a parking garage with a buddy. Jordana took them both down. Chicago’s finest came and arrested them.”

  Alex seemed relieved. “I’m sorry. I wish I could take it all back.”

  “You and me both. You still owe me for that stupid bet you lost. I’m never going to see that money now.”

  Alex chuckled. “I guess I’ll just have to catch you in twenty years when they let me out.”

  “Do me a favor, keep it. I’m not sure I’ll be inviting you over for dinner,” Clint quipped with dark humor. When in doubt, make a joke to lessen the tension. Old habits died hard. “It’s not the same without you. I landed the O’Hare account but I could tell I wasn’t the showman you were.”

  “You never gave yourself enough credit. You’ll do fine without me.”

  Clint shrugged. “I guess I have to. Not a lot of choice in that decision.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Clint waved away his apology. He had to keep his composure even though his best friend had betrayed him and his girlfriend had left him to go back to Kansas.

  As if honing in on Clint’s private thoughts, Alex asked, “What’s the situation with Jordana? Nothing hotter than a badass woman, right?”

  He agreed but admitted, “She’s gone, went back to Braxville.”

  “You doing the long-distance thing?”

  “Nope.” Was he discussing his love life with a prisoner behind safety glass? Man, his life had taken a weird turn. “She said she couldn’t stay and I couldn’t leave—one of us would end up resenting the other. She’s probably right. Hell, I don’t know anymore. Nothing makes a lot of sense in my life right now.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want her,” Clint answered.

  “So stop whining about it and go get your lady.”

  “My lady doesn’t want to be gotten. I’m not going to chase after someone determined to push me away.” He exhaled a long breath, adding, “And I’m not sure taking advice from you is the best thing. You never held on to a relationship longer than six months.”

  “Exactly. I know why I couldn’t keep a girl and it has nothing to do with your issue.”

  “Which is what?”

  “You’re used to women throwing themselves at you. This one you have to work for and you’re bailing. C’mon, man, I’ve seen you fight harder for a parking space than the fight you’re putting up for the love of your life.”

  He had let her walk away. Even though everything in him shouted to follow and convince her that she was wrong.

  “How am I supposed to be in two places at once? Braxville isn’t a short commute to Chicago.”

  “A two-hour flight,” Alex told him “You can make it work. Split your time between Braxville and Chicago. Let’s face it, Broadlocke can be managed via telecommute if need be. All you need is a solid person at the Chicago office to manage the day-to-day and then you can conference call most of the client meetings.”

  Clint stared at Alex. How had this man just solved his problem? This is what Alex had always been good at: creative problem-solving. Tears welled in his eyes but he sniffed them back, pretending that he had something in his eye, but Alex seemed to understand.

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said quietly. “I can’t say it enough. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Clint nodded, needing to go. “Take care of yourself,” he said, rising. “Do you need anything?”

  “A file, some dynamite and a new identity if you’ve got ’em,” Alex quipped, forcing a chuckle from Clint. Same ol’ Alex. Smart-ass to the end. Alex offered up a brief, pained smile before adding, “Money on the books would be nice. I might be able to save my ass if I can trade something.”

  “Sure thing, buddy.”

  Replacing the receiver, he took one last look at his best friend before walking away.

  No one told him closure would hurt like a bitch.

  Chapter 33

  Jordana walked into Bridgette’s makeshift office to pick her up for lunch. It was nice having her sister home again. They used to be so close but then distance and busy lives had gotten in the way of their relationship.

  Of her two sisters, she got along the best with Bridgette. Yvette, the baby, had a personality that tended to rub Jordana the wrong way at times, but Lilly always seemed to favor her, which also stuck a thorn in Jordana’s side.

  So even though Yvette lived in town, they rarely spent time together unless it was a family dinner at their parents’ house.

  Bridgette looked up and w
aved her over with a smile. “Sorry, I just have to finish up these notes before I lose my train of thought. My superior is asking for an update and I want to get everything down.”

  “Have you had any breakthroughs?” Jordana asked.

  “Well, right now we’re taking soil and water samples, preliminary stuff. Then we’ll start talking to neighbors who are situated near the clusters. We need to document how many people were potentially affected, which means a lot of interviews.”

  “Except with the people who have already died,” Jordana said, frowning. “Have you ever heard of the chemical CCA?”

  “Chromated copper arsenic? Of course, it’s one of nine chemical compounds banned by the EPA for commercial use.” She glanced up in question. “Why?”

  Jordana vacillated between sharing privileged information or not with Bridgette. Given the fact that Bridgette was an investigator for the state, she relented. “Well, CCA was found on the bodies.”

  “Interesting. When was the building built?”

  “In the mid-1970s so it was grandfathered in, I suppose.”

  “I wonder how many other buildings have CCA-treated building materials?” Bridgette mused, mostly to herself. “I think I’ll look into that.”

  Alarm spiked Jordana’s voice as she asked, “Why?”

  “Well, we have a documented case of esophageal cancer that might be connected to exposure to CCA. I’ll need to follow up.”

  Jordana voiced her secret fear. “What if Dad is somehow involved in all this?”

  “How could he be?” Bridgette asked, confused. “Dad would never knowingly do anything that would hurt anyone.”

  “I know but something about this case gives me a bad feeling.”

  “You’re just under a lot of pressure. It’s twisting your perspective. Dad is probably fine. Now Dex, on the other hand—he’s always seemed shady to me.”

  She wasn’t going to argue that point because she wondered the same. “Dad would never let Dex do anything that would come back on his family,” Jordana said, clinging to that hope. “But what if Dad is somehow affected by all this? Dad said he felt his own family was attacking him right now.”

  “Dad is being dramatic. It’s all procedure. He got hot under the collar because I told him I needed to take samples near Ruby Row.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t trust all this “cockamamie science BS’ as he calls it. He does things old-school and doesn’t like being told how stuff needs to be done now. Honestly, I’ve said for years that Dad should retire. Maybe this will be the thing that forces his hand.”

  Jordana made a face. “Can you imagine Dad without a job to occupy him? He would be unbearable to be around.”

  “Speaking of, please tell me you know of a rental I can look into? I can’t live with them much longer or I’ll go Lizzie Borden on their asses.”

  Jordana laughed. “We don’t want that to happen. I’ll keep an eye out. Do you think our parents will divorce someday?”

  “Not a chance. Mom would never leave Dad. No matter how grumpy he gets. You do realize, our dad is going to be that stereotypical grouchy old man who’s always railing about ‘those damn kids’ as he waves his cane at them.”

  Jordana, affecting a crotchety old man voice, croaked, “Get off my lawn!” and they both laughed because they knew it was like looking into the foreseeable future. “Can you imagine Dad being young and happy? I mean, people don’t spring up out of the dirt angry old men.”

  “Mom was beautiful in her day. He had to do something to charm her. I’m sure she had her pick of eligible bachelors back in the day.”

  “Oh, God, you just made me think of the reality that our parents used to have sex.”

  “Used to? You think they don’t anymore?”

  Jordana quipped, “Don’t you think Dad would be less grumpy if they were?”

  Bridgette gagged. “Please, you’re ruining my appetite.”

  But Jordana was enjoying this and teased Bridgette, “Hey, you’re living with them. Have you heard them going at it late at night?”

  “Oh, my God, Jordana, I would pour hot oil into my ears if that ever happened. And thankfully, no, I haven’t heard any late-night nookie.” She shuddered. “That would be enough to put me off from ever having sex again.”

  Jordana laughed, enjoying messing with Bridgette, but she was starving and her lunch hour would be over if they didn’t hurry up and get to the restaurant. “C’mon, you prude. Lock up and let’s go. My stomach is starting to eat itself.”

  Bridgette made quick work of closing down her office and they popped into their favorite deli for a quick bite.

  Afterward, Jordana dropped Bridgette off and headed back to the station. She worked hard to keep thoughts of Clint at the back of her mind but there were times when it seemed nearly impossible to stop the intrusion of memories.

  Today reminded her of the day they went to Wichita and rock climbed. That’d been the best day. She and Clint had been compatible is so many ways, except the most important—where they called home.

  Privately, in her weakest moments, usually late at night when she couldn’t sleep, she entertained the fantasy that everything had worked out between them and she got the privilege of falling asleep in his arms every night.

  The fantasy gave her momentary pleasure until reality popped the bubble. She couldn’t imagine Clint enjoying Braxville full-time. He hadn’t minded visiting but to live here? He’d go insane.

  That painful circle of reason was usually the point where she reminded herself that she’d made the right decision and tried to forget.

  It never worked.

  No matter how hard she tried, shaking free of Clint’s ghost was damn near impossible.

  She supposed this was her life now. Forever pining for the one who got away. The one she pushed away.

  Yay, me.

  * * *

  Big decisions shouldn’t be made on the fly, but after seeing Alex, Clint realized what he wanted to do. There was still the fear that Jordana would reject him, but he had to take the chance. Otherwise, he’d spend his life wondering what might’ve been if he’d just grabbed his balls and went for it.

  Hell, when he and Alex started Broadlocke, they hadn’t much between them aside from a determination to succeed shared by a common goal. If he could create a multimillion-dollar company, survive three different attempts on his life and put away his best friend, he could do anything.

  His dark sense of humor was turning out to be a good coping mechanism for what he’d had to endure. But he couldn’t deny—didn’t want to deny—that he missed Jordana in a way that wasn’t going to fade if he gave it more time. He knew the signs of real love even if he’d never experienced it before now.

  They had a kind of love that burned down to the soul, leaving a mark for the rest of a person’s days. If he didn’t do his best to convince Jordana that they were meant to be together, he’d live in regret for what could’ve been. After everything he’d been through, he wasn’t going to live half a life.

  He’d convince Jordana’s stubborn ass that she was meant to be with him and vice versa. The only trouble was he didn’t know how he’d make that happen, only that it needed to. Creative problem-solving had been Alex’s field of expertise.

  Alex would say one problem at a time. He had to find someone he could leave in charge while he was in Braxville, someone he trusted. The obvious choice hadn’t been so obvious, but once the lightbulb went off, it was nearly blinding. He just had to put his plan in motion and pray he wasn’t doing it all for nothing.

  Chapter 34

  Another painfully tense family dinner. She needed to come up with a reasonable excuse to bow out the next time her mom sent an invitation. The only problem with bowing out was the guilt of leaving poor Bridgette to face their parents alone. For some reason the boys a
lways got out of family dinners, but the girls were expected to show up.

  Well, except Yvette. The baby always got special treatment. Mom never badgered Yvette for not showing up. It seemed that judgment was reserved mostly for Jordana these days.

  The emotional toll of spending time with her parents when the investigation was all but stalled was excruciating. She never thought she’d long for the days when all she had to deal with was her parents’ ordinary gripes about her never settling down—as if they were living in the Victorian era and she was in danger of becoming an old maid.

  Jordana fell back onto the sofa with a groan, wanting to veg out on some mindless television before bed.

  An idle thought crowded her mind as she flipped through channels.

  What kind of impression would Clint have made on her parents? Her mom would’ve immediately been impressed by his wealth. Her father would’ve been his usual standoffish self, and if Dex were around, he’d probably sniff out any potential investing possibilities.

  Dex was always hustling.

  She supposed she shouldn’t give Dex too hard of a time. If it weren’t for Dex always looking for the next bid, Colton Construction would’ve gone under a long time ago.

  “Uncle” Dex was an integral part of Colton Construction, no matter how he irritated her most days.

  She grabbed her cell and began flipping through her photos, looking for the ones with Clint. Logically, she knew she should’ve deleted them. The best way to get over someone was to remove reminders.

  She couldn’t do it.

  Her memories with Clint were the secret fuel in her engine. Only in the privacy of her thoughts could she openly admit how much she missed him. She couldn’t count how many times she’d stared at her phone, so close to calling yet ultimately didn’t because there was nothing more to say.

  Hearing his voice would be a knife to her heart.

  She missed his laugh; the low rumble deep in his chest when he chuckled was the sexiest sound she’d ever known. Not to mention how he made her bones melt when they were alone.