Her gaze sharpened. “I like you, Mr. Colton.”
He was beginning to like her, too. This...this...woman who was going to be a great-aunt to his child.
Oh, Lord.
“Did you also buy some vitamins for yourself?” he asked, needing to stick to what he did well—work.
“I bought a case to sell,” she said. “They’re under my bed. They sell them to the team for thirty dollars a bottle, and then we’re to sell them for fifty.”
“How many have you sold?” How many people did they need to warn?
“None.” She shook her head. “I’m taking them myself, first, just to make sure they work. I’ve been taking them for five days, and so far...nothing.” She flipped a hand to her chin.
“You have to stop taking them,” Charlize butted in again.
“They made my client’s girlfriend sick.” Riley backed her up as Blythe looked between the two of them. Or maybe Brody’s girlfriend had ingested something else bad around the time she took the vitamins. But generally, food poisoning would pass. According to Brody, the last time they’d spoken, she was still sick.
Blythe shook her head, looking shocked. “The scientist who created the formula for the vitamins was at the seminar! I talked to him myself. He was smart, you know...talked like a doctor, and gave us a slide show of the components and how they react together, explaining how they work.”
“You met the scientist?” he asked, on full alert. A key part Brody had left out the morning before, but then they hadn’t had a lot of time to talk before the kid had cut town. With two recently broken fingers, Brody probably wasn’t thinking a whole lot about chemical compounds.
“Yes.” Blythe nodded. “Yes, I did. Dr. something...” She frowned. “I don’t remember his name...”
Filled with new urgency, Riley leaned in closer, needing to get as much as he could out of Blythe before the woman got too tired. If only Brody had shown up the night before...they could very well be much further along on their quest to help him! “Can you describe him to me?” he asked, tempering his tone and willing himself to be calm. Unthreatening.
“He was tall, a lot taller than me, anyway.” Blythe spoke slowly, as though trying to recall details. “Kind of white hair, you know like blond and gray mixed. And...blue eyes,” the woman finished emphatically.
“You remember the color of his eyes?”
“Because of the glasses he wore.” She nodded, clearly confident. “They were silver and wire-rimmed. I remember because the silver was like some of the gray in his hair and I wondered if maybe it would be a good color on me, that silver. Anyway, I kept looking at the glasses and his eyes were right there. I remember the blue because they were a pretty color. Like a girl’s.”
While he didn’t get the connection in the last statement, since a lot of men had blue eyes, Riley was convinced that the woman was remembering something real, and asked, “Do you have any idea how old he was?”
Blythe shook her head. “A lot younger than me,” she said. “Unless it was the vitamins. But the gray in his blond hair seemed natural, not like he colored it, so probably not old enough yet to have a full head of gray hair.”
He didn’t want her believing that shady vitamins were going to make anyone look younger. Didn’t want the allure to persuade her to keep taking them.
For her. For Charlize. And for the unborn baby this woman was surely going to love.
“Those vitamins, you know they aren’t FDA approved,” Riley reminded, stating what Brody said he’d been told at the seminar. “And as far as I can tell, there are about eighteen of you who are out the total investment.”
“I can’t believe this!” Charlize stood, walked to the end of the table, grabbed the back of the chair so tight he could see white knuckles. “We’ve got to find this guy. To get everyone’s money back!”
He hadn’t really planned on the “we” part. Not even a little bit.
“I’m going to the police,” Charlize said then, giving the top of the chair an ungentle slap. “I’m going to report this guy...”
“I’m on my way there now,” Riley heard himself admit. “I’ve got an appointment in half an hour to speak with a detective...”
Alone. The conversation was planned between him and Emmanuel Iglesias. Just the two of them.
“I’d like to come with you,” Charlize said. “I actually was planning to stop in at the station this morning, anyway. Dealing with a case from work,” she said, giving him a pointed look.
Something to do with the near hit and run on her front sidewalk the afternoon before. He knew it without her saying another word. And the more he could have her with him, protecting her and the child, the better he’d feel.
“Then let’s go,” he said, turning back to her aunt. “Thank you very much, Ms. Kent. You’ve been extremely helpful. I’m going to do everything I can to get your money back.”
She nodded. Got up from the table and took her bowl in hand. “You’re a nice man,” she said again, heading to the sink.
Riley wondered if she’d still think that about him when her niece told him that he’d knocked her up and then walked out on her.
He was guessing not.
Chapter 6
Grabbing her purse, Charlize didn’t argue when Riley said he’d drive. He was agreeing to let her be involved in his conversation with Detective Iglesias, and she knew when to pick her battles—or let them go.
“Has your team been able to find out anything?” she asked as she pulled open the front door, the sound of running water in the distance as Aunt Blythe did up the few dishes left from breakfast.
“We need to talk about the baby.”
Shocked, she paused for a second, her hand on the doorknob. Oh, so he was ready to talk now?
The snarky thought was followed by, what had changed? The night before, he couldn’t have made it more obvious that the parenthood topic was abhorrent to him.
To be fair...she’d had ten weeks to think about the possibility. He’d had ten minutes.
And his call the night before...
His choice had been to have the baby...as opposed to not.
“I agree,” she said, pulling open the door. “We do. I’m just not sure at this point what to say. I’m having the baby. It’s yours, too. And we’re still virtual strangers.”
She threw the last remark over her shoulder as she stepped outside—and caught a way-too-sexy look in those dark eyes as he said, “Oh I wouldn’t say strangers. From what I remember we got to know...”
The rest was cut off as a loud crack sounded, followed by a thud and the sound of brick shattering to her right. Something had punctured the wall to the right of her front door.
In shock, staring out toward where the initial bang had come from, she saw a smallish black truck speeding away. Her gaze went to the license plate. The cop she’d spoken to the night before had asked repeatedly if she’d caught any part of the plate.
There was none...
A hand gripped her arm, pulling her back inside the house. It seemed like minutes had passed since she’d taken a step outside. In reality, it had only been a couple of seconds.
“Someone just...” She couldn’t believe it. Was shaking, but not consciously afraid. Just... “Someone just shot at me.”
Riley was already on the phone. Speaking to Iglesias, based on the greeting. So he had a direct line to the man...
Aunt Blythe. Had her aunt heard the noise?
Charlize heard a toilet flush. Surmised her aunt had no idea what was going on. Wasn’t sure what to tell her. She’d been so upset over being scammed...
Plus, the baby on the way...which was going to be a real shock...and probably a disappointment, too. A big one. Charlize was more her mother than her grandmother and aunts after all. They’d tried so hard, had such hope. And she’d let them down...
; Which was what she needed to be worrying about right then. Internal sarcasm brought her mind back to the man standing a foot away from her, explaining in greater detail than she’d catalogued, what had just happened. He’d noticed a white driver, male, dark hair.
“Okay, Detective, thank you,” Riley was saying.
Her knees felt a little weak. She waited by the door. Wanting to be gone before her aunt reappeared.
“Change of plans,” Riley said. “Iglesias is coming here.”
She supposed that made sense.
They moved into the living room. She had to sit down. Was feeling a little nauseated. She hadn’t thrown up in years. Not since the one time she’d had too much to drink in college.
There was probably a slug in the wall of her house that would need to be removed. Or on the ground close by.
Footsteps sounded and Aunt Blythe appeared in the archway between the living and dining rooms, a purse over her arm. “Oh! I thought you’d left!”
Did the purse mean her aunt was leaving? Charlize looked toward Riley. Was it safe for Blythe to go?
The truck had sped off. The bullet had clearly been meant for her. And that put her baby in danger, too!
“We’re having our meeting here,” Riley said, walking toward her aunt. “I hope that doesn’t disturb any plans you have...”
“It’s my bridge morning,” she said. “We’re playing at Madge’s today, down on the corner.”
Bridge morning. Every Wednesday. Charlize had completely forgotten. Which showed how much she was off her mark.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk down with you,” he said, taking her aunt’s elbow. “I’ve got a couple of more questions regarding the vitamins...”
Charlize was pretty sure he didn’t, that he’d asked everything he’d had to ask, but when he glanced back at her, his brows raised as though asking if she’d be okay, she nodded, handing him her keys to get back in when he returned. “I’m going to use the restroom,” she said, taking her mace out of her purse and showing it to him as she headed to the back of the house. She then sat on top of the toilet, wondering if she was going to puke as she awaited his return.
Loving how he’d stepped right up to help her protect her aunt.
And telling herself not to make too much of it. She and the baby could have been killed. Even if she’d survived, she could have lost her child.
That was where her focus needed to stay.
Not on the man who’d accidentally fathered the life growing inside her.
Riley was great in the moment.
And when the moment was over, he’d be gone.
* * *
The entire way down the block, Riley kept his back between the street and Blythe Kent’s back. He could see ahead of them, and to both sides. He had the older woman covered.
He filled the time by asking Blythe if she remembered a young attorney at the seminar, a new investor just like her. And experienced an odd swell of pride as Blythe responded exuberantly about the person who’d been so kind to her, sitting with her on a break, bringing up the RevitaYou website on his phone and explaining the numbers to her. Writing them down on a napkin. And knew a huge spark of guilt, too. If not for Brody’s kindness, the older woman might not have been swindled out of a portion of her life’s savings.
As soon as Blythe was safely in the house down the street, he hightailed it back to Charlize, coming in the door to an empty living room. A shard of fear shot through him.
“Charlize?” he called. And heard what sounded like a choking sound coming from farther back in the house.
Heading quickly in the direction he’d seen her headed as he left, he heard the sound again—coming from a closed door farther down the hallway. He was reaching for the door handle when he heard the toilet flush. His hand dropped, but he didn’t retreat. Perhaps he should have.
But a memory came to him, so clear it could have been recent...him as a teen, holding a toddler on each hip, hearing his mother puking her guts out...
Water was running behind the door, then came the sound of an electric toothbrush. And he knew.
“A cold washcloth to the face helps,” he said to the closed door and then made his way to the kitchen, where he opened cupboards until he found a box of saltines. Taking an open container of crackers and a glass of water with him, he made it to the living room at the same time she did.
“I’m sorry,” he said, handing her the water and crackers. She took them, put them on the end table as she sat in an armchair perpendicular to the couch.
“Is it happening a lot?” He had to ask.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “And no, that was a first. I’m sure brought on by having a bullet fly by me.” She seemed to be trying to make light of both the violent morning sickness, and the attempt on her life, too.
He couldn’t do the same.
“Crackers help. If you can get them down before you get sick, a lot of times they can ease the nausea.”
She looked at him then, kind of frowning, but seeming interested, too. He liked the look. Too much.
“For a guy who’s been single all his life and who is adamant about the fact that marriage and children have been forever off the table, you sure know a lot about pregnancy. You got something you need to tell me, Riley?”
Like what? She thought he’d lied to her? He shook his head. But couldn’t really blame her for wondering if everything he’d told her had been one big pick-up line.
And couldn’t blame her for wanting to talk about something other than the shot that had been taken at her.
“My mom was sick every single afternoon for weeks when she was pregnant with Sadie and Vikki,” he confided. That baby she was carrying was going to have aunts. A somewhat confusing slew of them. And an uncle, too.
And maybe Iglesias would get there, allowing him to procrastinate that eventuality a little bit more.
Maybe the man would get there and find out who wanted Charlize out of the way. The fact that the hit hadn’t been professional was his only consolation at the moment. If the guy had been any good at all, he wouldn’t have missed.
Unless the shot had just been another warning...
“You have twin sisters?” she asked. He’d told her he and his siblings had a firm together, but that had been it. Mostly he’d talked about his career with the FBI that night. Talked about things he never told anyone. He still wasn’t sure why.
“Two sets of them, actually,” he told her, and then glanced at her stomach. “I hope I didn’t pass on the trait...”
With a hand on her stomach, she glanced down, and then back over at him. Their eyes met, but he couldn’t come up with anything to say. Neither could she apparently, as she eventually reached for a cracker and asked, “You have two sets of twin sisters?”
He nodded. Had long ago grown used to people’s initial reactions when he was out with his siblings—he’d had a ton of practice during the years he’d been at home, helping to raise them. And later, too, when he’d step in for his folks or leave the office if he wasn’t out on a case to pick them up from school or some practice or another.
“Both sets are fraternal,” he added. “They all look different. No problem telling them apart.”
“And you remember your mom getting sick?”
He nodded.
“How old were you?”
Her interest was as focused, as compelling, as he’d remembered. And he found himself opening his mouth to answer, where, for anyone else, he’d have prevaricated, distracted, or even just shrugged.
The conversation itself was a distraction from the possible danger that awaited her outside her front door. They were going to have to deal with that.
“Thirteen for Pippa and Kiely. The morning sickness was really in the morning then, and not that often. At least not that I
knew. I was fifteen when she had the other two... She told me about the crackers and water, and cold washcloth. With a toddler on each hip, I always had them ready after that first time.”
“You had a child on each hip?”
He nodded. Feeling inept all over again as he remembered some of the other times he hadn’t known what to do. Like the time he’d been seventeen, driving the family’s huge SUV with four car seats, and Sadie, who’d been two, had suddenly started spewing vomit all over herself. It was the first time she’d thrown up like that and it had been hellacious. She’d been crying, which made Pippa cry, while the other two just leaned forward in the chairs, watching him. He’d pulled into an alcove and called his mom, practically in tears himself.
He must have puking on his mind...
“I was two when you were fifteen,” she said slowly. “I could have been one of those toddlers.”
He shook his head. “Believe me, they’re all grown up now and a pain in my ass most days.” He told it like it was.
“These are the siblings you work with,” she said, munching on a cracker.
He nodded. “And there’s Griffin. My folks adopted him.”
“And you’re all in business together.” She seemed to be stuck on that for some reason.
“The other five have full-time jobs,” he said.
“You say you aren’t a family man...”
“I’m not,” he quickly inserted. He hadn’t lied to her, and couldn’t start, either. Especially not now that they were going to have to figure out how he’d take responsibility for the child she carried, do his part, without being a father. If nothing else, he was just too damned old, like a dog learning new tricks. Except for him it would be a dog having to go back through puppy training. He’d done it all. And had no desire to go through it another time.
He was remembering, again, how long it had been since he’d changed a diaper, when she said, “It sounds to me like you’re not only a family man, but you’re the head of an incredible group of siblings to whom you’ve devoted your life...”
Colton 911--Family Defender Page 7
