Colt, Billionaire Reunion: Sweet, Clean Christian Romance with Suspense (Billionaire Protectors Book 2)

by Alexa Verde

  “Oh, you’re my little matchmakers.” Laughter pulsed through her voice.

  Corbin high-fived his sister, then turned to Colt and Mirabella. “Dad, Mom, I’m glad you’re both taking us to the camp today. And you’re going to take us to the zoo again after we come back from the camp, right?”

  Way too obvious. He’d need to give the kid some tips on how to keep it subtle. But how could he resist that gravy-stained smile?

  “Of course,” Colt and Mirabella replied at once, then exchanged knowing glances of their own.

  Except, rather than the “it’s never going to happen, but let’s play along for the kids’ sake” their glances had said for the past year, this one said something more. Again, awareness vibrated the air between them, as invisible but as real as a magnetic field.

  As Colt took a sip of his peach-flavored iced tea, he didn’t know whether it worried or delighted him.

  Kitty interrupted his musings. “Dad, talking of the zoo. Corbin likes horses, and you got him a pony. Why can’t I get a monkey? I’d treat it well, promise. We could even get a rescue monkey. We’d be doing a good deed.” Kitty’s serious and angelic expression was so cute that, for a few moments, Colt actually considered a pet monkey.

  Then he imagined a cartoon-character monkey hanging on the curtains, throwing Kitty’s collection of glass look-alikes from the cupboard onto the floor and providing plenty of banana peels for everybody to slip on.

  Nope.

  But how was he going to break it to Kitty?

  Mirabella brushed the red bangs away from her daughter’s forehead. “Darling, horses are domesticated animals. While there are wild horses, too, the pony Corbin has is meant to be around people. His great-great-great pony grandparents were tame, and he needs people to help look after him. Monkeys are wild animals, meant to live a free life, like lions or tigers. The people who take in rescue monkeys work to set them free in the jungle, not keep them as pets on a ranch.”

  A deep sigh left Kitty’s lungs as she reached for her tea. “Okay, Mom. You’re right. But when I grow up, I’ll study monkeys in the wild.”

  Colt almost shuddered at the image of his daughter among gorillas. Hopefully, that time wouldn’t come too soon. Maybe they could at least steer her toward the smaller primates.

  He sent a grateful glance to Mirabella. “Thank you.”

  Parenting was so much easier when two were doing it.

  Live in the wild, like lions or tigers. He’d once called Mirabella his tigress. Because of her attitude as much as her bright red hair. Was he trying to turn a tigress into a tabby cat, to mold her into the image of the good stay-at-home wife he’d wanted? A “domesticated animal”.

  A piercing scream rang out from the yard. As he and Mirabella leapt to their feet, the children’s eyes widened.

  “I’ll check what it is.” Mirabella took off in a run.

  “Wait!” Quickly, he checked the cameras outside on his phone. Everything looked peaceful enough. Jackson and Moirah hugged near the entrance gate, and he guessed she’d been the source of that earsplitting scream. “Corbin, Kitty, it’s going to be all right. Stay where you are, please.”

  Zack and Fred appeared in the dining room, guns drawn.

  “Fred, stay with the children. Zack, accompany me.” Colt threw the words over his shoulder as he rushed to the entrance door.

  Sure enough, Mirabella didn’t wait for him. That was one infuriating woman.

  At least, she peeked outside before stepping out. “Hmmm, seems clear.”

  “Ma’am, with all due respect, please let me do my job.” Zack nudged her out of his way before surveying his surroundings and stepping outside.

  Mirabella’s jaw slackened slightly, but she let Zack go first. Colt resolved to give the man a raise. He felt generous today.

  Jackson yelled from outside. “It’s just a spider. No worries, boss.”

  “Yes, everything is clear.” Zack’s confident voice confirmed Jackson’s words.

  They all—minus the children and Fred—filed outside.

  “Just a spider!” Moirah’s brown eyes were huge, and her chestnut-hued shoulder-length hair was ruffled as if she raked her fingers through it in distress. “There is no ‘just a spider’. And it’s huge!”

  “I wanted to show Moirah my new roses. I’m working on a hybrid I’ll call Moirah, and I wanted to see what colors she preferred.” Jackson shifted from one foot to the other. “Then she remembered she didn’t pick up your mail today. She takes her duties seriously.”

  “That I do.” Moirah lifted her chin.

  Colt didn’t care much about the mail. For all important mail, he used private couriers, so generally, only junk mail landed in the mailbox. Of course, he wouldn’t tell the didn’t-care-much part to Moirah, because she probably thought it was important. She took “her duties seriously”, after all.

  “When I opened the box…” Moirah hiccupped, seeming unable to finish the sentence.

  Jackson finished it for her. “The spider was there. I closed the box as fast as I could.”

  “You’re my hero.” Moirah gazed at him with admiration as her lips, generously covered in bright pink lipstick, stretched in a smile.

  Jackson’s chest puffed a little.

  Zack moved forward. “I’ll take care of it, sir.”

  “Don’t harm the poor animal,” Kitty screamed from the porch.

  “Sorry, boss.” Fred kept a grip on her blouse collar to prevent her from moving further.

  Moirah snorted and clung to Jackson’s arm. “Poor animal?”

  “I’ll be careful.” Zack somehow kept a straight face as he called back to Kitty. “And I’ll make sure to release it very far from here.”

  Before Kitty asked to keep it as a pet.

  “Oh, boss. I almost forgot.” Jackson slapped himself on the forehead. “The spider was on a small bouquet of daisies. Someone must have hand delivered them.”

  So the spider in the mailbox was no coincidence.

  Colt’s heart sank. Not only was Mirabella’s apartment compromised. This house might not be the safe haven he hoped, either. How could he keep her safe?

  Chapter Nine

  Silence filled the oversized SUV on the drive back from David’s ranch after dropping off the kids. An awkward silence Mirabella didn’t know how to break. Something had shifted between her and Colt. Something big.

  And they couldn’t hide behind the children anymore.

  She didn’t want to leave the twins, so soon after coming back from Sydney. But they were excited about the camp, and she wouldn’t ruin it for them by being a clingy mom.

  At least, she didn’t need to worry the killer might threaten them there. Between David, his well-trained posse of cowboys, and Zack, who they’d left with the twins as extra protection, no one could get at them.

  After deliveries of daisies at both her apartment and her old home with Colt, neither place felt safe for the kids. The camp lasted two weeks. Which meant she had exactly two weeks to discover who’d made the threats.

  “It feels so empty without them,” she whispered finally.

  “I agree.” Colt’s face was unreadable, until barely distinguishable wistfulness reflected in his features.

  Only due to missing the twins already? Or did he wish things could be different between them, too?

  Emotion closed her throat. Longing to be near him, to shift closer to him along the wide leather seat now that the twins’ booster seats were out of the way flooded her. But she forced herself to stay in the same place. While she could be a murderer’s target, she shouldn’t even think of any reunion. That none of the family members of previous Daisy Killer victims had received flowers was far from reassuring.

  She’d never put Colt or the children in danger. Besides, he clearly hadn’t forgiven her for leaving. How could he, if she couldn’t forgive herself for not telling him the truth? And, while she was being brutally honest, she may as well admit it to herself. She hadn’t forgiven him for t
hinking she left him for someone else.

  Her heart twisted, and she looked away, staring out the window at the passing landscape. But pretending to focus on the rolling hills dotted with grazing cattle and bluish-purple patches of Texas bluebells didn’t reduce her aching awareness of Colt.

  While the SUV was luxuriously comfortable, she’d rather travel by motorcycle when she could, the wind singing in her ears. She recalled the daisies and shuddered. Of course, being driven in the bulletproof SUV was far safer than riding a motorcycle. But she couldn’t spend her life cocooned inside that safety.

  Why did she have to fall for a person so different from her? One who couldn’t understand or relate to the real her?

  Not all Colt’s fault. She hadn’t let him know the real her. A short courtship, a hasty marriage, and once married, they’d been occupied with either the twins or their jobs. Because they’d loved what they were doing and considered it important, sure. But maybe also, because it had been easier than trying to resolve their issues.

  While growing up, she’d craved love and stability. Any stability in her parents’ marriage had been an illusion, propped up by numerous lies. Mirabella had confirmed those lies, covering for her mother. As bad as lying itself. The way Mom blackmailed her into it—“You don’t want to lose your dad, do you?”—didn’t excuse her playing along.

  She’d found some stability in Australia, living an almost ordinary life. Until her returning memories flipped her world upside down again.

  As the SUV neared Austin, Colt’s hand brushed against hers. Whether by accident or on purpose, that simple touch sent a delicious current along her skin.

  Once she’d remembered anything of her past, she’d remembered it all.

  Every touch.

  Every kiss.

  Every glance of his deep-blue eyes.

  The way everything inside her turned into Jell-O when he as much as looked at her. The way her heartbeat went into overdrive when she breathed in his musky cologne.

  The way she felt right now when their eyes met.

  With an effort, she kept her expression neutral. She couldn’t let herself feel this way, not when chances were she’d have to walk away from him soon.

  Again.

  Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Just like before, he wouldn’t understand she was doing it for his sake. He mattered to her. Much more than she’d wanted to admit. Much more than she would admit.

  “Colt, I need to visit Archie McCoy. Is it okay if I ask Jackson to drop me off there? I texted him after lunch to let him know I had no new information for him, and he asked me to drop by this afternoon. He’s still grieving Karli so badly.”

  Colt nodded, and she opened the privacy panel to give Jackson the address.

  “But I’ll come in as well, if that’s okay. It’s been a while since I last met with him. Jackson can wait for us.” The compassion in Colt’s blue eyes showed he understood without words.

  The visit to the man would be emotionally painful, and she’d freely admit, she didn’t know what to say in such situations, especially when she still grieved Karli herself. “Okay. Just so you know, I... I haven’t told him anything about the accident and my injuries.”

  Both reluctance to upset Mr. McCoy, and reluctance to disclose her injuries. It would be good to have Colt present for this meeting.

  But she wasn’t going to come to depend on him, to let herself get needy. Oh no. That really must not happen.

  Not now. Not ever.

  Jackson parked at the curb in front of the palatial house in one of Austin’s most dignified suburbs. The neighborhood of quiet tree-lined streets and similar large homes looked peaceful enough.

  Colt fell into step beside her as they walked along the wide pathway through a lush manicured lawn, bright green despite the Texan summer dryness. She barely resisted shifting in his direction as they stepped onto the white-pillared porch.

  Almost as soon as she rang the doorbell, Mr. McCoy opened the door. Disappointment dulled his eyes and dragged down his lips.

  He’d changed so much in the five years since Karli died. Aged even more since Mirabella saw him last. Losing a daughter to murder made him appear twenty years older, with a stooped posture, white hair, and a web of wrinkles on his face.

  Her heart crumbled. Karli had loved her dad, spoke of him and his charity work with so much pride. Though Karli was his stepdaughter, he’d raised her and loved her as his own. Just like Colt loved Corbin and Kitty, blood related or not. The loss of his only child obviously weighed heavily on his shoulders.

  He nodded to her and Colt and gestured for them to come in. They stepped into an almost empty entrance hall, and then followed the older man into the living room. Shelves hosting award plaques and statuettes for his charity work lined the walls. The entire place was spotless, but somehow cold and impersonal. As if he had maid service come in and dust, but had given up on caring.

  His wrinkled gray suit, hanging on his gaunt frame, suggested he’d given up on caring for himself, too.

  Mr. McCoy gave her a hug, and she returned it with gentleness and sadness, his bones feeling thin and frail as if a real hug would shatter him.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  And she was. She truly was. If she’d met up with Karli when she’d called and asked to talk in person, her best friend could still be alive. Instead, the kids needed Mirabella’s attention. Colt was about to fly them all away on a brief vacation, time off from his lab he so rarely took. Karli had said not to worry, they could talk later.

  There was no later.

  Her crushing guilt over that had made her take on the case and pursue it even when the threats on her own life started.

  And now, her determination to discover who really murdered her friend doubled. Something deep in her gut told her the man who’d died in Australia hadn’t been Karli’s killer. Karli deserved justice. Mr. McCoy deserved justice.

  And it was her job to get it for them. But maybe this time, with Colt by her side.

  When Mirabella eased out of the older man’s embrace, stepped back, and looked up at him, his blue eyes were much bleaker than she remembered, too.

  “Please, take a seat.” He gestured toward the large cream-colored sofa.

  Reluctant to touch the smooth leather, Mirabella hesitated as she always did when she visited this house. She and Karli had sat there so many times, visiting with Karli’s mom. Unable to bear staying in the place where everything reminded her about her daughter, Sherrie had since moved to California, into a small retirement community.

  Mirabella understood the feeling. The mansion, now housing only one person, felt as cold and empty as her heart did here, confronted with so many memories.

  Colt took a seat on the sofa, and Mirabella finally followed him.

  Mr. McCoy sank into an armchair matching the sofa. “Thank you for visiting me. Actually, if I hadn’t known you were coming, I was going to call you, Mirabella. I received a bouquet of daisies last night. I don’t know whether it’s somebody’s sick joke or what. And…” His chest heaved. “I keep in touch with the families of the Daisy Killer’s other victims, via the support group. Two of them have received a bouquet of daisies, too.”

  Her heart went out to the poor man, and the rest of the victims’ families. The bouquet upset her. How much harder must it be for a grieving parent than a grieving friend?

  “I’m so sorry. It’s horrible.” Even as she spoke the sincerely meant words, her brain raced. How did this change things? Why her first and the loved ones of victims a week later? And she still couldn’t shake the feeling Karli’s killer had been a copycat.

  Mr. McCoy’s white eyebrows drew together. “What I’m afraid of the most is—what if it’s not a joke? What if the Daisy Killer is back? What if there was a mistake, and the real killer isn’t dead?”

  Should she tell him how she knew for sure the Daisy Killer had died?

  She’d avoided discussing the details of Cantorini’s death,
after seeing how much it upset Mr. McCoy when she’d first come back from Australia. Brett, Ashley, and Colt were the only people who knew she’d been burned along with the killer when he died. Only they and the twins knew about her amnesia. Everyone else, she’d simply told that she’d been working abroad.

  The truth.

  Just not all the truth. And if they chose to believe the rumors she’d left Colt for another man, that didn’t bother her. She knew she hadn’t. And Colt, she hoped, also now knew she hadn’t. No one else’s opinion mattered.

  So, what to answer the waiting older man? Looking at him, how frail he’d become, she couldn’t lay more upset on him. He didn’t know she’d been with the murderer when he died, and he didn’t need to know. The publicity at the time announcing Cantorini, the suspected killer, was dead had hopefully given the victims’ loved ones a sense of some closure.

  Until whoever delivered the daisies stirred things up again, ripping open barely-healing wounds.

  “I’m sorry to say, I suspect this could be a copycat killer.” Keeping her tone as gentle as possible, she reached toward him. As bad as she could be at communication, she needed to find the right words. “Mr. McCoy, if there’s anything you need, please feel free to contact me.”

  “I appreciate your offer. I really do.” His shoulders sagged. “Maybe I should’ve moved away like Sherrie has. As far away from the memories as I can. But I just can’t. I feel like one day Karli will walk through that door with her usual smile, and I can’t let her find strangers here. Ridiculous, I know.”

  Her heart constricted into a hard lump. “Not ridiculous at all.”

  Colt leaned forward. “What Mirabella said goes for me, too, Archie. If I can help you in any way, please let me know.”

  “Thank you. I know there’s no bringing Karli back, but I can still feel her presence here. If I move away, it’s betraying her memory, really losing her forever.” Grief dragged on the older man’s features, and deep sadness reflected in his eyes.

  Nodding, Mirabella ached for him and her lost friend. Sweet bubbly Karli really was gone forever. Best to change the topic, at least slightly.