Colton 911--Family Defender

by Tara Taylor Quinn

Nowhere. Just need to get out.

  How about picking up some Thai food and bringing it back here for lunch?

  They’d talked about getting takeout from a restaurant in their neighborhood that night they’d been together. They both knew of the Thai place. Considered it a favorite. And ordered the same exact thing, too, when they visited on their own. At the time she’d seen it as confirmation that he was the man she’d been waiting for.

  She’d forgotten all about that particular conversation. He hadn’t. Which made her warm all over again—exactly the kind of thing she was trying to avoid.

  Sounds good, she typed. Because she couldn’t think of a rational, shareable reason to reject the suggestion. And because... Thai food with Riley sounded wonderful.

  In white capri pants and a white-and-black fitted tunic, with black sandals, she met him by the back door at the exact time he’d given her. She hadn’t seen either Bailey or Ashanti as she’d walked by the main office, but she’d heard Riley’s voice there.

  Either on the phone or speaking with one of his employees...

  Pal came walking out to the kitchen with him, and nudged Charlize’s hand. With the man in another pair of tight jeans and a gray polo shirt giving her immediate thoughts of getting naked, she was glad for the distraction.

  July’s humidity hit her as Riley opened the door, and even though she was already hot, she welcomed the reminder of the world outside the cocoon she’d immersed herself in. Lifting her long, dark hair off her neck, thinking she might have been better to put it up, she followed Riley’s instructions, keeping his body between hers and the yard, as they walked the few feet to his car. She was guessing it was no mistake that the SUV was parked right outside the door, rather than over by the garage where she’d seen it before.

  “I’d like you to keep your GPS function off on your phone and all your apps,” he said as they buckled in. “We’re dealing with a guy who likely has no way to track anything, no fancy technology and database access that would allow him to do much of anything except look up your address in public tax records, if he even knew to do that, but I’d rather not take any chances,” he continued. All business.

  He hadn’t even asked how she felt. How she’d slept.

  Or said “good morning,” for that matter.

  And she had to admit to herself, his professionalism made the outing easier on her. Whether he knew that or not, was keeping them impersonal on purpose or not, she didn’t know.

  Though she hadn’t even been cooped up for twenty-four hours, it felt like it was longer and she was just glad to be outside. Noticed a bird perched on Riley’s fence. The way the sun glinted off the glass in the garage door.

  If she hadn’t been in danger, she’d have asked if they could walk to the restaurant. But then, if she hadn’t been in danger, she wouldn’t have needed to ask. She’d have just gone. From her own home.

  Sad how one criminal could change her life so drastically that in the space of a few days, a quick drive to pick up Thai food felt like a major outing. The guy might think he was scaring her from helping more people, but his threats to her safety just made her more determined than ever to continue helping victims get out from under abusive control.

  “I spoke with Iglesias this morning,” Riley said as he started the vehicle, put it in gear. “He visited everyone on the current suspect list at work yesterday. They were all there as expected, though that package could have been left before dawn, on the way to work. He spoke to all of them personally, and seemed a bit uneasy about both Barber and Simms. Got the feeling they were both hiding something, though he found no connection between them. No indication that they know each other. He also said that neither of them were pleased he was there, at their places of employment, asking questions.”

  They were down the driveway, backing into the street, and suddenly she was half wishing she was back upstairs in the large bedroom that seemed less and less like a cell with every yard she got farther away from it.

  She was not going to let them scare her into feeling like she couldn’t leave Riley’s home. No matter how lovely that cell might be. She’d done nothing wrong.

  “Sadie told me last night that she checked the box herself, yesterday, when Iglesias brought it in. They got nothing identifiable from either it or its contents.”

  Frustration warred with fear—and won. For the moment. Damn whomever thought they could take her freedoms from her. Which was exactly what her abusive clients were known to do. They used fear to keep their partners under their complete control, prisoners of love, or what had once seemed like love, anyway.

  “I talked to him about RevitaYou, too,” Riley continued, his gaze focused on the road and the area around them, constantly surveilling as he circled around different streets on their way to a place that had only been two blocks away. He was going to approach the restaurant from a completely different angle; she understood that. “After you telling me about your aunt being sick, I acted on a hunch and put the RevitaYou hashtag out on CI’s social media accounts, warning people not to take it. The response was unexpected and I made a list of accounts and the people behind them who said they’d also gotten sick off it. Iglesias is following up with those people today.”

  “Everyone who responded got sick?” she asked, horrified all over again.

  He shook his head. “A lot of people said they took it with good results.”

  “So you think there’s a good batch and a bad batch?” She glanced his way, and for a brief second he glanced back.

  That one second was all it took for her to see that he wasn’t as far away from her as he seemed that morning. The warmth and familiarity burning in that gaze touched every nerve in her body.

  “Or there’s something in it that people react to differently. Quantity could be a factor, as well.”

  They’d pulled up to the back of the Thai place.

  “Unfortunately, there’s no back or side entrance,” Riley said, parking close to the building. “I’m coming around and we’ll keep you in between me and the building. As we near the front, keep your back to the wall and I’ll be right ahead of you.”

  It felt like overkill, but she didn’t complain. As much as she hated being held prisoner to someone else’s diseased mind, she liked having Riley there, caring about her safety.

  Liked it too much...

  She heard yelling before they even rounded the corner, a man followed by a woman. She put her back to the wall as Riley peeked around to the front of the building...

  Wait...did she recognize one of those voices?

  “It’s a couple at the convenience mart next door,” he told her.

  The female voice came again.

  “I know that voice,” she said, moving forward enough to get a glimpse of the couple just as the man raised a backhand to the woman.

  “That’s Laur...”

  She didn’t get the words out before Riley had left his position, was going for the guy. She heard a shot ring out and started to shake. Took another look around the corner of the building in time to see Ronny Simms running off, with Riley in pursuit. She didn’t see a gun, but if Ronny Simms had one, he was in violation of a court order.

  Riley was gaining on the thug, and then Ronny climbed a fence like a backyard rat. As she watched, horrified, still not sure if Riley was hurt, she hurried toward Laurene. The woman would need comfort. Reassurance.

  “You!” Laurene screamed at her. “I should’ve known you’d have something to do with that guy rushing us. Why can’t you just leave us alone? Ronny doesn’t ever shoot his gun, but with that guy coming at him...it was self-defense. You’re going to get him in trouble.”

  “He hit you, Laurene.” She could see the reddening and puffiness beneath the woman’s left eye. Kept looking for Riley, but didn’t see either him or Simms. She didn’t hear any more shots, either. “And he’s gotten himself in troubl
e. If he shot someone...”

  Pray God he hadn’t...

  “He’s just mad because some cop came to his work yesterday and now they’re looking at him for things and he’s going to lose his job. And it’s all because of you. He was fine before you started coming around.”

  She didn’t like the anger, but she understood. And felt sorrier for the woman than Laurene would probably ever know. “If that was the case, I wouldn’t have been assigned to you,” she reminded Laurene. “You said you wanted me to help you find a job so you could get away from him, remember?”

  She couldn’t see Riley. Didn’t hear anything. Dialed 911, just as he came around the corner.

  “I lost him.” Out of breath, he glanced at her phone. “And I already called it in.”

  Hanging up, she turned to Laurene, but the woman backed away a few steps and then turned and ran.

  “Let her go,” Riley told her. “We have no reason to stop her.”

  As much as Charlize hated to do so, she knew Riley was right. Laurene just couldn’t see the truth. Or was more afraid at the thought of life without Ronny Simms than she was afraid of him.

  “You’re okay,” she said, looking Riley over. He was barely sweating. Looked...as vital as ever.

  He nodded. “He’s a lousy shot. He didn’t even get anywhere close to me,” he said, moving toward the Thai restaurant and pointing to the fresh slug in the cement of one corner. His attempt at humor fell short.

  He could have been killed. Or she could have been.

  But if that slug matched the one taken from the brick outside her front door, they knew the person threatening her now. Everything could be over soon.

  While the thought brought great comfort, it also came with a tinge of sadness. Depending upon how long it took the police to pick up Ronny Simms, she could be back at her place by dinnertime.

  Spending the coming night at home.

  Alone.

  Rather than falling asleep with Riley Colton right down the hall.

  She’d known the time would come. Knew it had to come.

  And it still made her sad.

  Chapter 16

  Iglesias came to the scene himself. Assigned an officer to Laurene, took the bullet in as evidence, expecting it to match the one they’d pulled out of the front of Charlize’s town home earlier in the week. And he told Riley to get Charlize home, to lock up tight and stay put. Until Ronny Simms was in custody, he was an unpredictable land mine.

  And Laurene’s indication to Charlize had been that Ronny was blaming everything on Charlize.

  Charlize said she was fine, but her lips were white with tension as they climbed back in the car. And when she reached for her seat belt, he noticed her hand shaking. Simms had taken a shot at him—a stranger—in complete daylight and with others around. The guy wasn’t thinking straight.

  “Why were they in our neighborhood?” Charlize asked as he pulled into his driveway.

  He’d been wondering the same thing. With only one logical conclusion. Because of her.

  “He’s not going to give up,” she said.

  “Maybe Laurene knows what he’s been doing. Maybe he was heading to your place and she was trying to stop him,” he offered.

  Even her sigh trembled a bit. “I just need this done.”

  He reached out a hand to smooth the hair away from her face and stopped himself. He couldn’t give in to the need to take her in his arms, either. Things were complicated enough as it was.

  “Iglesias said he’d call as soon as Simms is in custody and with an APB out on him, it should be within the hour,” he told her and got her safely in the house.

  As soon as Charlize was back upstairs—saying she had work to do, and that she was going to try once more to get through to Laurene—Riley filled in Ashanti and Bailey on what had happened. Telling them they could take off, work from home. If by chance Simms knew who he was and tracked them home, wild card that he was, he didn’t want anyone else around. Didn’t want anyone else getting hurt.

  For the same reason he sent a text to his siblings, letting them know of the situation, and asking them to stay away until they knew Simms was in custody. He heard back from all five of them within the minute—telling him to watch his back.

  And to let them know if he or Charlize needed anything.

  He didn’t like being a sitting duck, which was how it felt to him as the afternoon wore on with no news. He didn’t know enough about Simms. Didn’t think he was tech savvy, but didn’t know for sure. And certainly wasn’t going to risk their lives on assuming he wasn’t. Didn’t know if he’d somehow followed on foot as Riley had driven home. He went out and parked his SUV in the garage so Simms couldn’t recognize it sitting there.

  And hated that any getaway was locked away in a building separate from the house.

  He didn’t know if Simms had any kind of training that could make him more dangerous. He’d told Charlize that the guy was a lousy shot, but the truth was, he wasn’t so sure. Simms had pulled a gun and had gotten a round off, barely missing Riley, while connecting his fist with Laurene’s face.

  So maybe the shot the other day at Charlize’s house had meant to miss. Maybe that one had just been a warning, as well. Or maybe it hadn’t been Ronny.

  If so, one thing was clear. Ronny had been pushed too far into a corner.

  But they had a name now. An identity. Someone to pick up. That much was good. Not much of a relief, though, as they weren’t positive yet that Ronny was the original danger, or a new one. And they also now knew the guy was an immediate, potentially life threatening danger.

  By five o’clock, Riley was ready to climb his own walls. Iglesias had called to say that they’d confirmed the bullet coming from the same barrel as the one in the brick at Charlize’s house. He’d spoken to Laurene again, who swore she had no idea where Ronny was. They had a car posted at her house. Every law-enforcement officer in the city knew the guy was wanted for attempted murder on an ex–FBI agent, as well as threatening the life of a social worker. And more minor charges, too.

  But Ronny was more intelligent than anyone had given him credit for. At least when it came to street smarts. Simms seemed to have vanished into air.

  Or was holed up someplace to escape capture—which wasn’t the worst thing.

  As long as he stayed hidden away, he couldn’t get to Charlize.

  In a state of supreme overcautiousness, he suggested to Charlize that they eat dinner upstairs. Her room, his, the bedroom neither of them were using, which actually had a “tea” table with two chairs, he let her choose. He just didn’t want her on the ground floor where a shooter could more easily take her out through a window even if she was a distance from it. Not with a maniac out there thinking that his troubles would be over if she was dead.

  It was also possible that Simms, if he had rational moments, knew he was done. And was just avoiding capture because he didn’t want to go to jail.

  Or Simms’s anger could be in control and he might be trying to take out anyone who pissed him off, Charlize being number one. Because, in a mind like his, he’d think she’d started it all. While Riley had never aspired to be a member of a behavioral analysis team, he’d worked with them enough to know some of the thought processes perps went through.

  Riley didn’t much care what the man thought; he just wanted him caught. And until that happened, he was going to keep his gun loaded and ready and have Charlize and that baby she was carrying as close to him as he could.

  In one sense, Charlize made his job easy—agreeing to his requests affably, making an event out of dinner in the “tea room,” as she called it, acting as though eating in an unused bedroom was normal. Not a cause for fear.

  In another sense, her easy compliance made the job that much more excruciating. Every smile she gave him, every attempt at normalcy, common conversation, all seemed to h
ave one result—increasing his desire for her. It grew the second he walked in the room with a tray laden with vegetable soup, grilled cheese sandwiches and fresh fruit, and saw her bending over the small table, lighting a candle.

  She’d pulled the table to the far, inside wall. Had found a cloth to cover it. And while he’d still been suffering from that glance at her so-sweet backside, she came to remove the napkins and silverware from his tray, setting the table.

  “You could have had a beer,” she said, halfway through the meal, as he raised yet another bottle of apple juice to his lips. She’d opted for ice water from her thermos.

  He shook his head. “Not tonight.” Not any night when he was on watch over her, or any, life.

  His text chime went off, and, grateful for the distraction, he checked his phone immediately. All five of his siblings had checked in a second time.

  “It’s Iglesias,” he told Charlize. “He says still no sign of Simms. He’s helping another detective tonight on a case and will be doing some drive-bys,” he finished reading. Leaving out the part where Iglesias warned him once again to stay locked up tight.

  Since searching every home and privately owned crevice in the city was illegal without a warrant, there was only so much any of them could do.

  His discomfort due to his arousal aside, they made it through dinner fairly unscathed. There’d been a glance or two when their gazes had locked, but one or the other of them had managed to break the spell fairly quickly.

  Spell...even his thoughts were feeling the tension, coming up with a ridiculous word like spell...

  “I thought you’d been shot.”

  She’d finished her soup. Was sitting opposite him, arms crossed, those deep, dark eyes focused fully on him. He could feel the trance of her. The way she drew him.

  It had been that way the night they’d met. Once he’d seen her, every other person in the room had ceased to exist for him. They’d been...boring...white noise...every single one of them. Except her.

  He almost had been shot. He couldn’t lie to her.