Colton 911--Family Defender

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Things were just careening too far out of control. She couldn’t find any normal—no matter where she looked.

  “You shouldn’t be here alone. CI Headquarters has plenty of room—we had eight of us living there once and managed to get along—and I’m armed and trained. Pal’s there. And I can’t not protect my child. And the woman carrying it. Period. You can ask me to not do so, tell me to not do so, order me to go away and not come back, and I’ll be back, even if it means you filing a restraining order against me...”

  Taken aback, but not completely in a negative way, Charlize stared at him. He was half acting like a macho alpha male, and half begging. The combination didn’t compute, and yet there she was, witnessing it.

  “I’m hoping you aren’t going to put me through any further distress than we’re already facing, by arguing the point and bringing said restraining order into reality,” he said then, his tone more like himself. Logical. Calm. Controlled.

  “Who’s Pal?” She needed time.

  Had to think. Something she was finding increasingly difficult anytime Riley Colton was around. Which was one good solid reason why she couldn’t stay with him. Couldn’t do as he’d asked.

  There were others, too. They’d come to her as soon as she could think.

  “My German shepherd. She’s a trained watch dog, but unless there’s danger around, she tends to forget that. She also doubles pretty well as a vacuum cleaner and floor mop when food’s involved.”

  The tough guy had a dog. A dog he clearly adored.

  “I’ve told my siblings about you, so if you’re worried about what they’d think, you staying there, there’s no need.”

  Falling back against the wall, she leaned. “You told them what about me?”

  “That your aunt was scammed by RevitaYou, and that you’re pregnant with my baby.”

  “You told them that.”

  “I had to. You told Iglesias.”

  He’d mentioned something about it earlier, about his sisters being aunts...and there’d be an uncle in the mix, too.

  It was all happening too fast.

  Which was partially on her. She’d suspected the pregnancy for weeks. Had kept the possibility to herself.

  “I had to tell Iglesias. My life is in danger. They had to know that there’s a baby whose life could also be in danger...”

  As soon as she said the words, even before she saw his eyes darken, she knew she’d just walked herself right into his plan.

  “Did you tell them about the one-night stand, too?” How humiliating. And...stupid.

  “Of course not.”

  There was no of course about it.

  “How this all came to be, that’s between you and me,” he said. “Unless you’ve told someone...”

  She shook her head, and he seemed a bit relieved. Not much, but some.

  “So...you’ll come stay with me?”

  Everything inside her warned against even thinking about doing so.

  “I can’t afford not to do as you ask,” she said softly, while her instincts continued to scream at her to find another way. She pushed through them. Forcing herself to focus on the facts, not feelings. Or imaginings. “I can’t afford to hire protection. And I have to take extra precaution because of the baby...”

  He took a step forward and she put up her hand. “I’m not happy about this. And the second they find whoever took a shot at me, I’m out of there,” she said. “This isn’t about us being together, in any way. It’s nothing to do with us at all. Or to do with the fact that we’re parents of the same child. I’m in danger. And you’re trained to protect people. That’s all it is.”

  She needed that firmly established. And though she hoped he never knew it, she was talking to herself as much as to him. The second he’d offered...she’d wanted to agree with his plan. Regardless of the fact he’d walked out on her, she still gravitated toward the man.

  Whatever spell he’d cast the one night they’d been together had long-lasting effect. She took note. Promised herself she wouldn’t forget for a second that the fantasy she’d built around them—around one true love—had come crashing painfully down.

  “I’d stay here if it weren’t for the baby,” she added. And knew she was speaking the truth.

  For all his earlier wordiness, Riley was suddenly quiet. Changing his mind?

  She thought about herself actually in his home. She’d driven by it once, when she’d first begun to suspect she was pregnant. Had thought about telling him.

  But she couldn’t get over the way he’d callously walked out on her. After giving no indication, prior in the evening, that all he wanted was a one-night stand. To the contrary, when they’d talked about both liking jazz music, he’d said they’d have to take in a concert together sometime.

  “What did your sisters say?” she asked, still leaning on the wall, though Aunt Blythe was going to be expecting her, with Blythe’s packed bag, at Marge’s house within the half hour. “About the baby?”

  Riley shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” She stood up, faced him.

  With a curious head tilt, almost like he was embarrassed, he said, “I walked out on them.”

  Oh.

  So it wasn’t just her.

  He was that guy—the one who you couldn’t count on to stick around. Period.

  She gave him one last look, and then, without another word, went to pack the things her aunt had asked her to bring.

  Chapter 10

  Riley would have much preferred to take his SUV. Whoever was after Charlize likely knew what she drove, and wouldn’t be as likely to recognize his vehicle. He posed the argument to Charlize as she returned with two suitcases in tow—one for her and one for her aunt, she’d said—and headed toward the back door where her car was parked in a detached garage.

  He tried to take one of the bags for her. She shook her head, holding on to both handles, though she had to turn one back sideways to get them through the kitchen.

  “I’ll need my car where I’m staying,” she’d said.

  And out in the garage, when he suggested that he drive, as he had experience with defensive driving and fast speed chases, she declined once again.

  “This way you can keep watch and be able to use your gun,” she’d replied, but he didn’t think for a second she really expected that to happen.

  She was letting him know that she was in control of her life, regardless of her need to stay with him. He got the message loud and clear. Respected her for it...and found it sexy.

  So all the way to Lowell, he rode silently beside her, listening to her aunt chatter from the backseat, and keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity on the roads.

  By the time they got to her aunt’s house, he practically sprang from the vehicle. He did not make a good passenger. Never had. And opted to wait outside, pacing the sidewalk, while Charlize went inside with her family.

  She’d said she was only coming to his place because of her need to protect the baby. Intimating that there was absolutely nothing between them. He wasn’t so sure about that.

  She was different. Not just as a person, but in his life. That one night...it had been like none other. More compelling, even, than those illicit nights with Marisol, his sometime partner at the FBI... He shoved those sensitive memories out of his mind.

  And attraction aside, the baby Charlize was carrying, protecting, was his. That was a hell of a lot. No matter who raised the child.

  Their families were forever, biologically, joined. And with his sisters, that meant they were joined emotionally, too. Any one of the Coltons would die for that child. Just as they’d die for each other.

  Pulling out his phone he brought up his messaging app, clicked on the group chat that included all five of his siblings and typed.

  I apologize for my abrupt depa
rture. At this time, I have no answers to your questions. Will provide them once I do. Someone has threatened Charlize’s life. Shot at her this morning and missed. She will be staying at CI Headquarters until perp is caught. Don’t make more of it than it is.

  He didn’t hit Send.

  Didn’t want them up in his space.

  But they had to know. The woman would be staying at the headquarters of their family business.

  Bailey and Ashanti. They’d have to know there’d be another person in the building.

  Did they also have to know she was pregnant?

  What if they heard her in the bathroom, being violently ill? He didn’t want them calling 911 on her behalf.

  The complications continued to pile up on him.

  Charlize came out just as he was escalating to a whole new level of excess energy and he wasted no time getting back to the car, hitting Send on his text message before dropping his phone back in his pocket. “May I please drive?” he asked. It was her car. He couldn’t demand.

  He wouldn’t beg.

  “I have issues not driving when I’m in vehicles,” he told her. She might as well know. “Never take cabs for that reason.”

  “What if you’re traveling?”

  “I rent cars.”

  She handed him the keys.

  As tall as he was, he didn’t have to adjust the seat much. One of the things he’d noticed during their night together. He and Charlize fit well.

  “What about buses?” she asked as he turned onto the main road out of Lowell.

  “I avoid them whenever possible.”

  Once they were on a country road, with long driveways up to homes that were mostly blocked from view by massive trees, Riley calmed down with every passing mile. And became aware of Charlize’s silence, too. His brain back in full gear, focused on the task at hand, a list took place in his mind’s eye. Immediate considerations.

  They were going home together, to his place. Where they’d be living together, at least for a day or two.

  The idea of sharing space with her didn’t fragment his control again. Didn’t even send up negative vibes.

  Interesting.

  But then, he knew it wasn’t forever. Or even for very long.

  “I cook on Sundays.” He offered pertinent information. “Various meals. They’re marked and dated and in individual vacuum-sealed bags in the freezer. You’re welcome to any of them, and anything else in the house you might need or want,” he said. “And don’t worry, you’re not infringing or putting me out. My siblings have no qualms about helping themselves so I’ve learned just to keep things stocked. Half the stuff, I don’t even like.”

  That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. Some weeks he’d be fine with peanut butter, a loaf of bread and beer.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s after five and I’m sure you need to eat,” he continued, traveling a conversational path that didn’t seem to bring any qualms from within. “I’ve got lasagna, vegetable soup, bourbon pork and chicken marsala, for sure.” He pictured the interior of his freezer. “And there are meatballs and several things of spaghetti sauce. The spaghetti’s in the cupboard. I have a microwave container that cooks it up quickly...” Being a good host was something he’d learned young. It wasn’t something you forgot, even if you preferred not to exercise the talent.

  “The veggies are all done separately,” he continued. “In their own bags, and marked. You can choose what you want to go with whatever main dish.” The girls each had their own preferences and dislikes. And it was just easiest to feed them what they liked.

  “And the veggie bin in the refrigerator is always filled with fresh produce.”

  She was staring at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to picture you pushing around a full cart in the grocery store...”

  He wondered if she liked the image. And immediately disavowed it. “I don’t,” he quickly assured her, lest she build him into some kind of family man he was not.

  “JJ, my housekeeper, does it. Twice a week. I’m a run in and run out kind of guy, if it’s a last minute thing, and I have no other option. She cleans, too. On Fridays.” Which was coming up.

  He’d need to let JJ know he had a houseguest...

  “There are three bedrooms upstairs,” he said. “All large enough to be a small apartment. I’m in the master at the end of the hall. You can have your pick of either of the other two. The downstairs bedroom has been converted to a filing and storage room for the business. You’ll have your own bathroom.”

  Lest she think there would be forced intimacies in their near future. Or feared that he’d be planning on them.

  He was ten minutes from home. Just one more thing to cover.

  “As the father of the child you’re carrying, I’m hiring myself as your private bodyguard until this is over,” he said, choosing his words carefully. He wasn’t up for being flexible on this one. “Inside, you’re on your own, but when you need to leave, go to work, whatever, that baby has my protection. As a hired professional, I’ll make myself available to you as needed, on your schedule.” His laptop was state-of-the-art, his Wi-Fi excellent and he had the best unlimited data plan and phone hotspot on the market. He could do his research from anywhere.

  He could see her looking at him. Peripheral vision didn’t provide much opportunity for accurate expression reading. So he prepared for whatever argument she might bring.

  He was right on this one. And...

  “You could have just offered,” she said after a long minute had passed. “I’d much rather have a gun beside me, than not, at the moment.”

  Well, then. There you go.

  Maybe life didn’t have to be so complicated, after all.

  * * *

  She didn’t feel safe out and about alone.

  She hated being afraid. Hated letting fear win in any capacity. But she’d nearly been run over by a truck. She’d been shot at.

  Only a fool ignored the warnings.

  Giving in to them, quitting her job since they didn’t know which case was posing the threat, was not an option. Evil didn’t get to win.

  But she had to take care. And didn’t have money to hire her own bodyguard. Most particularly not with a baby on the way.

  Riley’s solution eased some of the tension that had been building within her.

  And, as she took out her phone to avoid any further conversation between them in the car, checked her email, and saw that she’d had a response from her doctor’s office regarding an appointment, his solution brought a whole new realm of agitation.

  Not anything she was going to tend to trapped in the confines of a moving vehicle.

  Later, though, after she’d carried her own suitcase upstairs, having taken it from him as he’d lifted it out of the car, spent as much time as she reasonably could getting settled into the huge room farthest from his upstairs, she had to go back downstairs.

  Deal with Riley.

  And the situation they’d unknowingly created.

  He wasn’t in the main office as she came down the stairs. Nor was he in the dining room as she passed through on her way to the kitchen. If she wasn’t in danger, she’d head out to get something to eat. But if she wasn’t in danger, she wouldn’t be there at all.

  She pulled open the freezer. Tried to pretend to herself that she wasn’t curious to try Riley’s cooking, but the truth was, she wanted to try it all. Loved the idea of him keeping homemade meals stocked in the freezer for his grown siblings.

  For a guy who’d sworn off marriage and family, he sure didn’t act the part. He hadn’t been kidding; the freezer was filled to the hilt, all with vacuum bags shelved by type, and clearly labeled. As she read, the choice got harder to make. So much of it sounded good.

  Had he eaten? Should she make som
ething for him, too? It would be rude not to do so. And yet, would it be too much like they were living together, rather than just staying in the same place, if they sat down to dinner together?

  Where was he? Maybe there was a family room somewhere. Or a finished basement...

  “The bourbon pork is the girls’ favorite.” She’d barely registered footsteps when he spoke.

  “They’re hardly girls, Riley,” she said, to cover her abrupt switch from her appreciation of his caring nature back to the reality of standing in a virtual stranger’s kitchen perusing his freezer contents.

  Try as she might, though, she couldn’t make Riley feel like someone she hardly knew. Instead, she continued to have the sense that she’d known of him forever.

  “They’re all professionals with careers. Grown women.”

  “I diapered all four of them. They’ll always be girls to me.”

  With a sudden bout of deflation sliding over her, she pulled out a bag of pork. “Do you want one?” she asked.

  “Yeah. And some of that broccoli and a baked potato, too. The potato is great with the bourbon juices. All the alcohol’s been cooked out of the sauce, just in case you were wondering.”

  Looking for a baked potato, she stood there, until Riley reached around her, pulling out two bags of cut up white cubes.

  She’d been about to fix dinner, and ended up collecting plates and silverware as Riley just set about doing what needed to be done to get their food on the table. He knew the microwave settings. Exactly how long everything took to reheat without overheating. The potatoes went in foil in a toaster oven set to broil.

  “I eat in here,” he said as she headed toward the dining room table through the kitchen archway. The alcove he pointed to on the far end of the kitchen held an old Formica-topped table, square, with four padded chairs.

  The man definitely had his ways. “Any particular chair?”

  He pointed to a chair that backed to the wall with one hand as he pulled the potatoes out of the toaster oven with a mitt on the other, and she found herself imagining a much younger Riley at that table. In that kitchen. And saw a sudden vision of her own child there. With him. And not her.