by Alexa Verde
They sat, and she bowed her head.
He said grace, this time without a long pause like yesterday.
She drew a smiley face on her pancake with whipped cream and added pieces of banana for hair before realizing that was what she usually did for Kitty. Oh, how she missed her little girl! Kitty had finally started warming up to her, though not completely. But the joy of making any progress with the independently-minded girl set Mirabella’s heart singing.
“Thinking about Kitty?” Colt took a sip of his black coffee. “We can call the kids after breakfast and video chat.”
“Great idea.” Bites of her pancake melted in her mouth. “Wow. This is delicious. I’m not going to tell Moirah or Ashley, but I don’t think their pancakes are better than this.”
Uh-oh. We can call… That “we” again. She’d learned while growing up that “we” was only an illusion, confirmed in her first marriage. Then why had she married Colt after knowing him for only for a few months?
She’d refused his advances at first. When she’d finally accepted the invitation to go out after that awful serenade, she’d thought she could protect her heart. Instead, she’d fallen crazy in love.
She gave herself a mental headshake as she polished off her pancakes. She couldn’t make the same mistake again. She couldn’t trust her own feelings.
Just like she couldn’t trust her mother’s promises that the infidelities would stop or her first husband’s promises that his verbal abuse would end. The sweet taste of pancakes and bananas turned sour in her mouth. Even a generous dose of coffee with vanilla creamer didn’t quite flush it down.
The urge to share things she’d never told Colt about before, the things that cut soul-deep wounds in her heart, surprised her.
Could she? Should she? Wasn’t it better to keep anything personal a secret? Mom and Dad divorced when her secrets were exposed. Michael had used everything personal she told him as a weapon against her.
But Colt… was Colt. He wasn’t her dad. He wasn’t her first husband. He was the man she loved, but still needed to learn to forgive and to trust.
Chapter Fourteen
Mirabella wrapped her fingers tighter around the monkey mug’s warm, smooth surface, as if she could wrap her fingers in the same way around her daughter’s small hand. “You’ve never asked me how my first husband died.”
“I figured if you wanted to, you’d tell me.” Colt studied her over the rim of his mug.
She hadn’t wanted to. Until now. “He was caught while cheating on me and got shot. Not the first time he’d been unfaithful. Just the first time he was shot.”
His eyes widened, and he plunked his mug on the table so fast liquid sloshed over. “I’m so sorry. Did you…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t need him to.
“No, I didn’t shoot him. The husband of the woman he was cheating with did.”
She calmly sipped her coffee. Strangely enough, the memory didn’t burn her gut like it used to, hot with the desire that she had shot him. Shot him sooner, rather than enduring more years of his lies, infidelity, and verbal abuse.
Maybe sharing it made it easier to let it go. Her throat used to close up when she thought about her first marriage. Today, it didn’t.
“I wouldn’t cheat on you. I hope you know that.”
She did. And if she hadn’t, Colt’s strong voice and steady gaze would have convinced her. Skilled at recognizing lies, she could trust he spoke the truth.
Somehow, feeling that so strongly spooked her. As a distraction, hoping she wouldn’t ever wish to shoot Colt, she took her semiautomatic pistol out of her purse, checked the safety, and placed it back where it belonged. When she looked up at Colt, he visibly swallowed.
Did he think that…? She had no rights on him. Not any longer.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just checking, ready for the visits in Austin.” She clicked her purse closed. Had she meant it like that? At times, she’d been angry enough to want to shoot Michael.
“Your first marriage sounds like a difficult one.” He extended a hand toward her. “I hate that it happened to you.”
Dared she take his hand, accept the comfort he offered?
No. Not yet, anyway. This self-disclosure was scary enough, without adding that into the mix. And she still had more to admit to him.
Lifting her mug, she took another sip of her coffee to fortify herself.
“I have Corbin and Kitty because of him. I’ll be forever grateful for that. At first, when I discovered I was infertile, I didn’t want to use a surrogate. But he persuaded me it was my duty as a wife. I’m sorry I could never give you children. I’m sorry I never told you.” This time, her throat did close up, and she barely pushed the words out.
She buried her face in her hands to hide her raw emotion and heard rather than saw him get up and walk toward her. Then a warm, comforting arm slipped around her shoulders and held her close. Instead of resisting, she leaned into the comfort he offered.
“Mirabella, it’s not your fault. Anyway, you’ve already given me two wonderful children.”
The tightness constricting her breathing loosened, either from his words or from his touch.
“Thank you.” Her words emerged as a whisper.
Colt carrying her to bed wasn’t such a bad thing. No, the opposite. Colt was nothing like her first husband. And she was nothing like her mother. Still, it had been so painful when he’d accused her of leaving because of another man. How could he think she’d do that?
Maybe because deep inside she’d been terrified she could’ve, eventually, become like her mother. Sought comfort elsewhere if it was lacking in her marriage, instead of working to save the marriage.
Pulling back from Colt’s embrace, she pinned on a bright smile. “Let’s call the children.”
“All right.” He took just one step back and then didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Instead, she looked in his blue eyes and was adrift on the ocean without a life raft.
If she hadn’t chosen work over family those years ago, hadn’t chosen the burning desire to see her friend’s murderer brought to justice and to stop other women dying, would things be different between her and Colt? She’d missed out on most of her children’s lives, lost a wonderful husband, and ended up scarred and damaged.
Colt had been a wonderful husband, in so many ways. And the man he’d become in the past five years, even more wonderful. She’d thrown that away. He’d thrown it away, too, when he chose to believe the worst about her, chose to divorce her.
No use regretting the past. She wouldn’t get a do-over. No use regretting the present, either. Dragging her gaze from Colt, she hurried to the laptop.
After an extended time seeing the twins’ darling faces on the big screen and listening to the children gabble about the great time they were having and the other kids they met there, sponsored by Second Chance at Life, she pushed back from the desk and stood. “Okay, time I left for Austin.”
“You want to meet with Jade Cantorini, Ross, and Scarlett as soon as possible, don’t you?” He reached for her hand as if he needed a physical connection between them.
A wave of longing swept her. She needed it, too.
But she didn’t want to need it.
As she’d feared, the time alone with Colt had made her needy and weak, just like her mother. She eased her hand out of his. Having some time alone driving to Austin would help.
“Yes, I do. No point postponing things.”
His eyes narrowed, and then he leaned toward her. “How about I go, too. As your—I don’t know—personal assistant?”
Her heart fluttered in her chest as she made the mistake of looking in his blue eyes again, and she eased toward him as if drawn by a magnet. It was clear why he wanted to go with her. He wanted to protect her. Despite all the history still lying unforgiven between them, he cared about her. And that both troubled and touched something deep inside her.
“I’ll wear a disguise. What do you think? A red wig or blond? And matching mustache and beard? I’m sure Brett will have disguises here somewhere.” He didn’t even touch her, only his smiling gaze caressed her face, and still, she felt as if his fingertips moved along her skin instead because she remembered his touch so well.
She struggled for rational thinking. “I don’t think a disguise will help. You’ll give yourself away.”
After all, he didn’t have her “chameleon abilities”. In the past, for different assignments, she’d played a naïve waitress, a flirty socialite, a down-to-earth stout housekeeper, even a professional dancer.
She’d learned in childhood how to act differently in different circumstances.
Eventually, her mother’s infidelities had caught up with her. Mirabella winced as if she could still hear the shouting and arguments. Her father had been forgiving twice. At the third time, he’d walked out of the house and Mirabella’s life. Telling her he wanted nothing more to do with her, he’d called her a little liar.
Something she’d never wanted to be. Guilt clenched her gut. And still, her life eventually became a web of lies, or rather, things she couldn’t tell anyone. Like she hadn’t told Colt till now she was infertile and had hated herself for it. He knew about it now, but that was just one more reason she needed to stay away from him. She’d never be able to give him blood-related children, and it was unfair to him. He should have known. That was his right.
He’d seemed to forgive her or, at least, hadn’t shown signs he was angry about it. But Colt had mastered hiding his emotions. Would he do what her dad and Michael both did—store it up and let resentment fester? Would Colt resent her for this, too, the way he resented her apparent lack of interest in his work?
Guilt stabbed her in the gut again and twisted the knife. She still couldn’t tell him why she’d had to stop him every time he’d wanted to talk about the lab or he’d been excited about a new discovery and wanted to share it with her. She couldn’t tell him about the things that had happened in her childhood, all the painful memories she’d kept hidden. She couldn’t tell him about her scars.
Secrets. Still so many secrets.
“I could try to pretend to be someone else.” His lips widened into a slow smile, and he shifted closer still.
Oh, how much she loved that smile! Her heart flip-flopped. Weak, weak, weak. And still, she agreed. Not because she needed protection. Because she guessed if she said no, he’d just borrow one of Brett’s vehicles and follow her anyway.
“Okay, you can come too, but no disguises.”
His grin looked so endearingly like Corbin’s, her resistance melted.
“I’ll go get my gun. Just in case.”
While he did, she checked the camera footage. Satisfied nothing looked suspicious after scanning the surroundings through the part-opened door, she and Colt stepped out onto the porch and strode to the car.
As they reached it, he tossed her the keys. “You’re welcome to drive.”
She caught them as they rattled in the air. How could he guess she wanted to drive?
With her driving, getting back to Austin didn’t take long, though before they pulled up outside Scarlett’s house, she had to talk her way out of a ticket. Finding the right neighborhood was easy enough. Mirabella had memorized the directions to the places she wanted to visit.
She parked at the curb near a redbrick house and scanned the neighborhood. Despite a car with no wheels propped up on bricks a few doors down the road and a torn and stained sofa in the yard of the house next door, she saw nothing particularly threatening.
Turning, she glanced at Colt. “We’re here.”
Was it her imagination, or did he look a bit paler?
He clicked his seat belt open. “If you ever decide you don’t want to be a private investigator any longer, you can always take up a career in car racing.”
“I just like to get to places quickly.” She turned off the engine.
“I like to get to places quickly, too. That’s why there are business jets and helicopters. But I also like to get there in one piece.” He walked around the vehicle to open the door for her.
Laughing, she slipped out of the car before he got there. “You’re in one piece, aren’t you?”
“Not sure. I may have left my stomach behind somewhere back there.” He grinned to show he was joking, but his face retained a touch of pallor.
“You’re never going to let me drive again, are you?”
“I will.” He fell into step beside her as they walked along the cracked and uneven pathway to the porch. “I’ll just need to mentally prepare myself.”
He rang the bell once. Nothing happened.
The faint scent of mesquite wood mixed with the mouthwatering tang of grilled meat drifted to her nostrils. Inhaling that barbecue scent now swelled her heart with memories of happier times.
The weekends when Colt would barbecue in their huge yard. He could’ve easily had Moirah cook or Jackson deliver food from the best restaurants in Austin. Instead, he’d fired up the grill and put on that silly bright red apron he said he loved because it matched her hair. He was a skillful grillman, too.
Probably the reason Corbin grew up with the opinion that barbecue ribs were the best food in the world.
Colt’s second ring on the doorbell got no reply, either.
She held back a sigh. “Scarlett might be reluctant to open. I’ll check around the house.”
“Okay, you go on the right side, and I’ll go on the left.”
After a quick check, she couldn’t be sure someone wasn’t hiding behind the curtains, but did lean toward the fact that there was no movement inside the house. “Ross’s house now?”
Colt nodded and gestured toward his vehicle. “I’ll drive. A guy can take only so much of a daily dosage of your driving.”
As he said those words with a wink, they didn’t sound offensive.
Soon they were on the way to Ross’s place while she gave Colt the directions she’d memorized. Austin traffic wasn’t easy to navigate, but Colt handled it skillfully.
Ross’s place was in a flashier upscale neighborhood where the houses had high fences, showy fountains in the yard, and enough rooms to house ten families. Such a contrast to the trailer he’d lived in when he started dating Karli.
That massive life insurance had obviously come in handy.
Powerful enough motivation to murder?
A familiar stab of guilt that she hadn’t met with Karli that evening made Mirabella grimace as they parked and walked to the gate.
Colt glanced at her. “Do you think he’ll open to us?”
“Nah. But I’ll find a way for us to get inside.” She sized up the fence, then turned back to the gate.
His eyebrows shot up. “You mean, break in?”
Hmmm. She could see the headlines. “It’s best if you go back to the car. One of the reasons I didn’t want you to tag along.”
Not that she was comfortable breaking in herself. Not at all. She preferred to stay within the law, but she had the skills to break it if needed. But no. She wouldn’t compromise Colt.
A car engine purring on the other side of the gate alerted her. She glanced at Colt, and together they raced to his vehicle. She didn’t protest when he jumped into the driver’s seat, didn’t ask for the keys. By the time the gate opened and a red sports car drove through, they were ready to pursue it.
Colt took off fast, tires screeching. They were in this together. At the very least, she could trust his driving skills. And maybe, trust him with a whole lot more.
Chapter Fifteen
As Colt’s vehicle shot after the flashy car, Mirabella knew she was right. In seconds, they had Ross’s vehicle pinned to the curb, not because their car was more powerful, but because Colt was a better driver. The sports car’s door opened. Ross tumbled out, then took off towar
d the nearest house. What was he going to do, climb over the fence?
“Oh no, you don’t,” she muttered as she drew her gun from her purse and clicked the seat belt open.
“Let me do this.” Colt turned off the engine.
Riiiight.
She nearly snorted as she leaped out of the vehicle. Sure, she was going to let him do this. Not. She took chase after Ross, who had a few seconds on her.
Her daily morning runs proved useful, but Colt caught up with Ross first and had him on the ground by the time she reached them. His morning runs, by the looks of it, were more efficient than hers.
“Let me go!” Ross wailed. “I didn’t do anything! I was just going to a bar.”
Yes, it might be five o’clock somewhere, but it wasn’t yet noon in Austin. A bit too early to go to a bar.
She slipped the gun back in her purse, fished out handcuffs, and cuffed him. “Then why did you run?”
Ross scowled as Colt helped him up and placed him on his feet. “Because I saw you!”
“That’s a logical explanation.” She gestured for him to move forward.
Colt gave the guy a slight pat on the back. “How about you invite us to your place and we have a cup of coffee and a pleasant conversation?”
Ross gawked at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
Colt shrugged. “Okay, you can skip the coffee.”
He looked so calm and confident. As if he was having a chitchat with an acquaintance. If the circumstances were different, she could be enjoying this conversation.
“The answer is no,” Ross muttered. “A thousand times over.”
Colt’s eyes narrowed a fraction, and his fingers moved toward the gun holster on his hip. “Does it look like I’m kidding?”
Warmth expanded in Mirabella’s chest. Her new respect for her ex-husband grew by the minute.
Even if he was stealing both her job and her lines.
Ross let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But I know who you are. One of the rich guys who set up the Second Chance in Life charity. I don’t think you’d just go and shoot me.” He threw a suspicious look in her direction. “Her, I’m not so sure of.”