Her Colton P.I. Read online

  “Don’t you dare move,” he warned Holly.

  She laughed deep in her throat, but she knew what he was talking about so she stayed right where she was for a minute. Eventually he was able to release her without being too embarrassed, but he tugged her hand. “Come on,” he told her roughly. “Let’s go outside where no one can—”

  That was when he spotted the dark-haired woman standing in the shadows across the room from them, near the door to the bar. A stranger, yet not a stranger. Incredulous, he whispered, “Josie?”

  He dropped Holly’s hand as if in a dream and took two steps toward the woman he instinctively knew was his baby sister. But when the woman saw him move toward her, she darted from the room like a frightened colt.

  Chris gave chase. “Josie!” he called to the fleeing woman, who had already escaped through the front door. “Josie, wait! Don’t run, Josie. You’re safe, damn it! You’re safe! It’s all over!”

  She must have heard him, because she stopped suddenly on the sidewalk, turned around and stared at him. But she was still poised to run. “It’s over?”

  Chris didn’t stop running until he reached his sister, until he was sure he could prevent her from fleeing if she tried to take off again. “Josie,” he whispered, still not quite believing she was really here. Then she was in his arms. “My God, it’s really you.”

  Brother and sister finally stepped back, and all at once Holly was at Chris’s side, her breath coming quickly. Then the rest of the family appeared—all crowding around Josie, hugging her repeatedly, exclaiming over her—their joy at finally being reunited with their baby sister mirroring Chris’s.

  Questions peppered the air. “Oh, Josie, we’ve been searching for you ever since you vanished.”

  “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.”

  “Why didn’t you let us know you were alive?”

  Chris held up his hands. “Hold it, everybody! One at a time.”

  Before anyone could ask a question, Josie looked at Chris, regret in her eyes. “I heard about Laura,” she blurted out. “I wanted to call you when it happened and tell you how sorry I was. I really did, Chris. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. ‘No phone calls,’ they said. ‘Let them think you’re dead,’ they said.”

  “Who said?” Trevor asked, getting his question in first. “Where have you been?”

  “Witness Security. Six years. Ever since—”

  “Desmond Carlton was killed,” Chris said, cutting Josie off. When her eyes widened that he knew, he nodded, saying, “Yeah, I think I have most everything figured out.” For the benefit of the rest of the family, he said, “Here’s what I think happened. Correct me if I’m wrong, Josie.” He laid out his theory of what had occurred eleven years ago, and then six years ago.

  Josie interrupted him a couple of times to clarify a point, but when he was done, she said, “I can’t believe you pieced that all together from what little you knew.” Her eyes held admiration.

  “Thank Lizzie and Trevor,” he told Josie. “They’re the ones who gave me the clues I needed.” His gaze met Lizzie’s, then Trevor’s. Lizzie’s eyes held nothing but joy, because she finally knew what had caused Josie to turn away from her friendship; Trevor’s eyes held joy that Josie was found, tinged with...redemption? Thanks, Trev, Chris mouthed and knew Trevor had seen it by the slight nod he gave. Chris still didn’t know why Trevor had abandoned him. But he no longer believed Trevor hadn’t tried his damnedest to get custody of Josie when he turned eighteen. And that was a tremendous load off Chris’s mind.

  He turned back to Josie. “The most important thing in all of this is, everyone who was associated with Carlton six years ago is either dead or in prison—and will stay in prison for a long time. Which means it’s all over as far as you’re concerned. You don’t have to hide anymore.”

  “You really mean it?” Josie couldn’t seem to take it in at first.

  Chris nodded. “And you’re just in time. Holly and I are celebrating our engagement.” He caught Holly’s hand and raised it so Josie could see the ring.

  “I know. That’s why I came, because I...I wanted to be here with the family, even if I couldn’t join in the celebration. Even if it meant risking being seen.”

  “You were spotted before,” Chris told her. He glanced around the circle of his family. “Ridge saw you. So did Lizzie. And Annabel—”

  “You left a gold heart charm in my house, didn’t you?” Annabel interjected. “The one Mama gave you that’s just like mine.” When Josie nodded, Annabel asked, “Did you leave it on purpose?”

  Josie nodded again. “I couldn’t bear having you all think I was dead. No matter what my handlers in Witness Security told me.”

  Another flurry of questions ensued, and this time Holly intervened. “Let’s take this back inside.” She smiled at Josie and held out her hand, saying softly, “I’m Holly McCay, Chris’s fiancée. I’m so glad you came to our engagement party. I can’t think of anything that would make Chris happier than having you here. It’s been tearing him up not knowing where you were. Not knowing if you were safe. Now he can really celebrate.”

  * * *

  Chris disconnected and slid his smartphone into his pocket. He jumped guiltily, then whirled around when Holly said behind him, “How are the boys doing with the babysitter?”

  “How’d you know I was checking on them?”

  She smiled the tender smile he loved. “Because I know you. Because that’s the kind of man you are.” She came to stand right in front of him and deliberately placed her hand on his heart, which immediately kicked up a notch at her touch. “You made yourself responsible for us that very first day,” she said. “And thank God you did, because if you hadn’t I never would have known you. Never would have loved you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I never would have known what it was like to be loved the way you love me.”

  A lump came into his throat, and he wished he had Holly’s way with words. Wished he could express what her love meant to him. But all he could do was touch her cheek with a hand that wasn’t quite steady and say, “I don’t want to lose you, Holly. Tell me that will never happen.”

  What you don’t love you can’t lose. He’d told himself that in the hospital right after Ethan and Lizzie’s baby had been born. He’d lost so much in his life—Mama, Trevor, Josie, Laura, their baby—he hadn’t wanted to risk loving again. Mama was dead, and so were Laura and their baby—he wouldn’t see them again in this lifetime. But Josie had been miraculously restored to them. And if Chris ever got up the courage to ask Trevor one all-important question, maybe he’d finally find the older brother he’d once loved unreservedly—the brother who could do no wrong—in the man Trevor was now. Which meant it was still possible to find his mother and lay her to rest, the one remaining thing he desperately wanted to accomplish.

  Holly seemed to understand what he meant when he said he didn’t want to lose her, seemed to understand the lurking fear he refused to name but couldn’t completely banish. “I can’t promise not to die,” she told him solemnly. “No one can promise that. But I can promise I’ll love you, now and forever. Because love...enduring love...is a choice. And I choose you, Chris. I will always choose you.”

  The lump in his throat was back, but all he could think of to say was “Does this mean I get to be the boss of you sometimes?”

  Her gurgle of laughter warmed the lonely place in his heart the way it had from the first time he’d heard it. The way it always would. �
�If I get to be the boss of you sometimes, too,” she told him, her soft brown eyes alight with the laughter they would always bring to each other.

  “Then I have nothing to worry about,” he assured her, “because you already are that. Sometimes,” he hastened to add, needing to be completely honest with her.

  She laughed again, her twinkling eyes telling him she knew exactly the kind of man he was, flaws and all...and she loved him anyway. Then she kissed him, and in that instant he knew he was going to be all right. They were going to be all right.

  Ethan had said it best. I thought I could cut myself off from life. Chris had thought that, too, but Holly had proved him wrong. You couldn’t play it safe where life was concerned. Where love was concerned. You had to risk it all. You had to put your heart out there where it could get trampled, hoping and praying it wouldn’t.

  His heart had been trampled. There was no denying that. But Holly had healed him. She’d seen something in him worth loving, so she’d somehow mended the cracks. His heart wasn’t good as new, it was better—because loving and losing and loving again had taught him never to take anything for granted, and he never would again. The really important things in life didn’t entail proving a darn thing to anyone—except proving his love to those he cared about. It was a long list—something he finally acknowledged—and getting longer every day. Heading that list was Holly.

  “Life is good,” he murmured, drawing Holly back against him so they could look out at all his brothers and sisters together again...finally. And all his and Holly’s friends also in attendance at their engagement party. Family. Good friends. Almost everything a man needed to make life worth living. Almost. Only one thing was missing from the picture—the one thing that was no longer missing from his life.

  He curved his arms around Holly’s waist, holding his future securely. “Life is good.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from DEADLY OBSESSION by Elle James.

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  Deadly Obsession

  by Elle James

  Prologue

  Excitement rippled through her. She could barely wait to get home from school. Instead of taking the road as she’d promised her mother, she cut through the woods. She carefully balanced the treasure her teacher, Mrs. Tillman, had given her. It was a thank-you gift for staying late every day after school the entire year to help straighten the classroom, clean the boards and check papers.

  A gift hadn’t been necessary, and that wasn’t the reason she’d stayed after school. She loved helping her beautiful young teacher. The added bonus was access to all the books on the shelves in the classroom. They were filled with wonderful stories and picture books of places Mrs. Tillman had been—Germany, Russia, Italy, China—exciting, exotic places in all parts of the world. Reading about those places was all the thank-you she could ask for.

  But the gift had been special. A beautiful black porcelain music box from Russia. Painted with colorful women in flowing ball gowns dancing with handsome men in military regalia. The pictures told a story of another time, of richness and beauty. And when she opened the pretty little box, music spilled out. The Nutcracker, her teacher had told her.

  Mama would love it as much as she did. When she was younger, Mama had played the piano and sang in the church choir. Now she barely had time. Since her daddy had moved out, her mother had gone back to teaching, and she didn’t play the piano anymore. But she loved music and made sure her daughter grew up with the same love.

  Her attention was on the pretty black box, and she was in such a hurry to get home, she didn’t see what tripped her until she flew forward. She tucked the little box against her body to keep from breaking it when she hit the uneven ground. She landed hard, the wind knocked from her lungs, her head bouncing off a big rock. For a moment she lay still, trying but not succeeding at dragging air into her lungs. Darkness gathered around the edge of her vision, closing in...swallowing her.

  How long she lay there, she didn’t know. Cold seeped into her skin, making her shake. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t open her eyes. The darkness was inside her, gripping her like a hand, squeezing so tightly it wouldn’t let go.

  Shivering turned to violent tremors. Pushing against the grasp of the black abyss, she cracked open an eyelid. Fog closed in around her. Nothing looked familiar. She didn’t know where she was, or where she’d been going. “I want to go home,” she cried. But she couldn’t remember where home was.

  Sobs rose up her throat and tears ran down her cold, damp cheeks. She lay curled in a ball, trying to warm herself but failing miserably. Maybe, if she went to sleep, she’d wake in her bed...where she belonged.

  Closing her eyes, she lay as still as her trembling body could. Soon a warm blanket was wrapped around her. By the coarseness of the fabric, it had to be wool. It covered her body, her face and her head, making it harder to breathe and blocking out any daylight that managed to filter through the fog. Then she was lifted into strong arms and carried. How far, she didn’t know. But it seemed like forever.

  She would have kicked, screamed and cried for her captor to release her, but she didn’t have the strength, and she didn’t want him to take away the warmth of the blanket. He kept going and going.

  At last he stopped and fumbled with something. A screeching sound could have been a rusty hinge. She couldn’t see through the thick wool of the blanket, wrapped so tightly around her that she couldn’t move.

  They were going down steps; the musty scent of dirt and decay filtered through the blanket. It was the same dank smell she could remember from visiting someone’s earthen root cellar in the country. She grasped at the memory, but before she could identify whose basement she’d visited, the thought drifted away like smoke in the wind.

  Finally, she was deposited onto cool, damp earth. She struggled to free herself from the blanket. By the time she did, her captor was already up the wooden steps leading out of the ground where he’d brought her.
/>   Her heart hammering, her voice lodged in her throat, she pushed to her feet and stumbled on wobbly legs toward the light. As her foot hit the first step, a heavy metal door dropped down over the opening, shutting out the light, plunging her into darkness so complete, it had to be hell.

  Copyright © 2016 by Mary Jernigan

  Special thanks and acknowledgment to Amelia Autin Lam for her contribution to The Coltons of Texas miniseries.

  ISBN-13: 9781488004971

  Her Colton P.I.

  Copyright © 2016 by Harlequin Books S.A.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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