Colton's Deep Cover

by Elle Kennedy

  A sense of deep understanding passed between them when their gazes locked again. Chloe was stunned. She’d never dreamed that Derek might have lost a child, too. A boy. God, just like her boys, who she’d loved so desperately without having ever seen them.

  “I know how devastating that must have been, losing not only your wife, but also your child,” she whispered.

  Derek let out a heavy breath. “I lie awake some nights, thinking about my son. About Tess. I haven’t dated since they died. Haven’t even thought about it.” He laughed harshly. “The morning of her funeral, I decided I’d never open myself up to a relationship again.”

  Her own chuckle was equally bitter. “Yeah, I made that same vow the day I left Felix.”

  They looked at each other and smiled.

  “Wow,” Derek said mildly. “We’re a real pair, huh?”

  “We sure are.”

  Silence stretched between them. She still had her arms around him, his hands still rested on her shoulders. Their foreheads were nearly touching, their lips mere inches apart, but the air no longer sizzled with passion. It was now thick with tension and regret.

  And before Derek even opened his mouth, Chloe knew what he would say.

  “I’m not ready.”

  She swallowed her disappointment. “I know.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, though.”

  A laugh popped out of her mouth. “Friends,” she echoed.

  Derek nodded, his expression so earnest she didn’t have the heart to object.

  With another firm nod, he stood up, averting his eyes as he headed for the door. “Come on, let’s lock up. We can pick up some takeout on the way home.”

  Utterly perplexed, Chloe watched him leave the office, wishing she could figure out what was going through his head right now—and knowing that no matter what Derek said, there was no way in hell the two of them could pretend this entire encounter hadn’t happened and just be friends.

  * * *

  When the call finally came through on his cell phone, Felix Moreno was more than ready for it.

  He’d been stuck in this damn hotel suite for the past few days, forced to twiddle his thumbs while he waited for the phone to ring. Not only that, but the patient he was scheduled to operate on had developed a secondary infection, so the surgery had been postponed until tomorrow. Felix loathed sitting idle, and the longer he remained in Philadelphia, the more he disliked the place.

  “Has the package been delivered?” he barked into the phone.

  “Not yet,” a timid male voice replied. “It’s en route as we speak.”

  Felix’s grip tightened over the stem of his wineglass. The Cabernet swished, nearly spilling over the rim of the glass. Not one to waste expensive wine, Felix leaned forward and set the glass on the coffee table, his angry gaze fixing on the electric fireplace.

  “En route,” he echoed, his voice lined with displeasure. “It was supposed to be here already.”

  “I know, Dr. Moreno, but there were some minor hiccups.”

  “I don’t have time for hiccups, minor or otherwise. I’m a busy man and my presence is required in Los Angeles. I can’t stay in this godforsaken city indefinitely.”

  “You won’t have to. Everything is on schedule now. I’ll be in touch in a couple of days with the details.” A pause. “Will your surgery be done by then?”

  “It should be.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” the caller said again.

  Felix disconnected and tossed the cell phone on the cushion next to him. Frowning, he picked up his wineglass and took a slow sip, but not even the familiar flavor of the heady vintage could erase his annoyance.

  He was tired of this crap. His mother was growing more and more upset with him the longer he stayed away, and he truly hated displeasing Bianca. His receptionist’s phone was ringing off the hook with patients and colleagues requesting Felix’s services.

  He rose from the sofa, angrily stalking to the window, where he once again studied the streets down below. He wanted nothing more than to say good riddance to this city and be on his way. But he couldn’t do that.

  Not until he took care of the bitch.

  * * *

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Derek had shut down on her. After yesterday’s confession in his office, the doctor was now going out of his way to avoid any conversations that bordered on personal, and Chloe was beginning to grow frustrated. During dinner last night, they’d discussed politics. Over breakfast this morning, the problems with the health care system. At the clinic, they spoke about patients. And now they were driving back to the ranch, and Derek was chatting about cereal. Cereal, of all things.

  She understood, though. It must have been difficult for him to give her a glimpse into the suffering that hovered beneath that perfect exterior of his, and she suspected it embarrassed him to admit to those feelings of failure.

  Why couldn’t he see that the peek into his soul had only made him more appealing to her? His past made him more...real. If anything, it reinforced the sense of connection she felt toward him, and she wished he didn’t view his past as a weakness but as something that had made him even stronger.

  “I can’t keep Lucky Charms in the house anymore,” Derek was saying. “Sawyer picks out all the marshmallows, puts them in a bowl and dumps in the milk. A couple of years ago, the kid had eleven cavities when I took him to the dentist.”

  Chloe smiled. “He lives by his own rules, huh?”

  “Damn straight.” His voice rang with humor.

  He steered onto the turnoff leading to the ranch, then slowed the car when they noticed a FedEx truck idling near the gate. Derek pulled alongside the truck just as the deliveryman hopped out with a small cardboard box tucked under his arm.

  “Wait here. I’ll save this guy a trip,” Derek said, reaching for the door handle.

  As the lanky, dark-haired FedEx guy headed for the intercom box mounted on the gate, Derek hopped out of the car to intercept him.

  Chloe watched through the windshield, unconcerned—that is, until she saw Derek’s broad shoulders stiffen. He peered at the package like it was a ticking time bomb, his jaw tighter than a drum as he signed for the delivery.

  Her pulse drummed out a deafening beat, drowning out the low voices of Derek and the deliveryman. The package was for her. She suddenly knew it without a shred of doubt.

  Felix had tracked her to the Colton ranch.

  Chloe’s hands shook so wildly she laid her palms flat on her thighs, trying to control the trembling. At the gate, Derek exchanged a few more words with the FedEx man, who wore a look of apprehension mingled with annoyance. The man flipped through some papers on his clipboard, shaking his head repeatedly as Derek continued to unleash what looked like a serious interrogation. After a few moments, Derek’s hand moved in a gesture of pure frustration and he stalked back to the car.

  The driver returned to his truck, the engine roared and then the truck reversed away from the gate, raising a cloud of dust as it sped off.

  Derek slid back into the driver’s seat without a word, twisted around and placed the package in the backseat.

  “It’s for me, isn’t it?” she said softly.

  He nodded.

  “Addressed to Amelia Phillips?” she prompted.

  He shook his head.

  “Chloe Moreno?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  A chill seized her insides, making her tremble again. It was over. Felix knew she was alive. Oh, God—and he knew she was staying at the Colton ranch. He knew about Derek.

  Her voice cracked as she asked, “Who sent it?”

  “There was no sender information,” he answered in a clipped tone. “Whoever it was used a FedEx office in Philly and paid in cash.”

  Panic clawed up Chloe’s throat like a scavenger tearing apart a carcass. Her heart pounded, each beat thudding in her ears until all she could hear was that wild, frantic rhythm. Neither she nor Derek said another w
ord as he drove to his house.

  As if the weather had decided to match her mood, a gust of icy wind slammed into her when she got out of the car. Derek grabbed the package from the backseat and they silently marched up to the porch. In the front hall they removed their coats in silence, left their boots on the shoe rack lining the floor then walked into the living room without a word.

  Derek held out the package and finally spoke. “Would you like me to open it?”

  “No.” She gulped. “I’ll do it.”

  The cardboard box was the size of a shoebox. Chloe tested its weight and found that it was lighter than it looked. The recipient data glared up at her like an accusation. Typed out and printed on a sticker, it listed the name Chloe Moreno, with Derek’s address underneath it. After a few seconds of hesitation, she peeled the tape from the edges of the box and slowly opened the two flaps of cardboard.

  The blood drained from her face as she laid eyes on the contents of the box.

  “What is it?” Derek demanded.

  She continued to stare at the box, tears welling up in her eyes. The slice of cake was a thing of beauty, milky white butter cream icing, gorgeous pale pink roses done in painstaking detail. Last time she’d seen it, it had been covered by a layer of freezer burn. Now, the cake looked the way it had at her wedding: creamy, decadent, utterly beautiful.

  One tear slipped out and snaked down her cheek. Without a word, she handed the box to Derek. “It’s a piece of my wedding cake,” she said dully. “Felix preserved one slice and kept it in our freezer in Malibu.”

  A sense of numbness washed over her, her vision becoming nothing but a gauzy haze. Through that haze, she saw Derek examine the cake. Saw him set the box on the coffee table. Saw him approach her. But just as he came near, just as he reached out his hand, that numb feeling transformed into a hot rush of emotion and the last thread of control snapped inside her like an elastic band.

  “I have to go,” she blurted out.

  Derek blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  But she was beyond listening. As alarms shrieked in her head like a banshee, she tore out of the living room and stumbled into the guest room. Her lungs burned, but sucking in sharp gulps of oxygen only made her feel light-headed. Panting, she whirled around the room like a madwoman, gathering the few belongings she’d unpacked and shoving them into her duffel bag.

  “What are you doing?” Derek demanded.

  She spun around to find him standing in the doorway, a worried expression creasing his features.

  “I’m leaving,” she snapped.

  “Chloe—”

  She rushed into the guest bath and grabbed her toothbrush and makeup kit, then hurried back to the room. “I can’t stay here,” she mumbled through ragged breaths. “He’ll come after me, Derek. He’ll come after me and hurt me and I can’t be hurt again and—”

  She couldn’t finish. Her throat felt too tight, and her legs could no longer support her.

  God, she was having a heart attack.

  Panic torpedoed into her, causing her to sink onto the edge of the bed. Her palms tingled, her vision nothing but a whirlwind of black-and-white dots. Gasping for air, Chloe dropped her head between her knees, but her heart only seemed to beat faster. So fast she feared it might burst right out of her chest.

  She nearly toppled off the bed when she felt Derek’s hand on her back. “Breathe,” he said urgently, his hands rubbing circular motions between her shoulder blades. “Come on, sweetheart, breathe.”

  Her vision swam again. “I can’t,” she choked out.

  “Yes, you can.” His fingers threaded in her hair. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re hyperventilating, and you need to breathe.”

  She tried. Inhaled. Exhaled. Over and over again, until her breaths grew less shallow and her head began to clear.

  “That’s it,” Derek murmured. “Keep breathing.”

  She kept breathing.

  It took several minutes before her heartbeat regulated. Before she could lift her head and see everything clearly again. But while the anxiety attack had ebbed, her determination to escape remained strong.

  “I have to go,” she said firmly. “He had that cake delivered to the ranch, Derek. That means he knows I’m staying with you. That means you and your family are in danger now.”

  “My family and I will be fine,” he replied, wrapping one arm around her trembling shoulders. “And you’re not going anywhere, Chloe.”

  “I have to.” Misery hung from her tone. “I can’t let him hurt me again.”

  “He won’t hurt you.”

  She gazed into Derek’s brown eyes, but not even the conviction she saw in them could ease her terror. “He already did. He hurt me so badly.”

  “I know he did, sweetheart.”

  “No. No, you don’t.” Fury blasted into her. “You don’t know what he did to me, Derek. You don’t know a damn thing.”

  His gaze filled with shock. “Chloe—”

  “Do you want to see how much he hurt me? Do you?”

  “Chloe—”

  She shot to her feet and grabbed the makeup bag she’d left on top of her duffel. She didn’t know why she was so enraged, why her eyes kept shooting daggers in Derek’s direction. None of this was his fault, yet she couldn’t seem to control the fury traveling like poison through her veins. The urge to lash out was too powerful, the need to flee even more so.

  Her fingers shook as she unzipped the bag and fumbled for the tube of makeup remover and cleansing cloths.

  As her mouth twisted bitterly, she walked over to the mirror hanging over the low dresser across the room. In the reflection, she saw Derek rise from the bed. He approached her the way one would approach a rabid animal. “What are you doing?” he asked gently.

  “Showing you what he did to me.”

  She began removing the makeup. Foundation and concealer and powder and toner disappeared like the top layer of paint on a canvas, revealing the secret image beneath the surface. Only, her transformation didn’t uncover a lost masterpiece. Hers showed the ugliness beneath the mask she wore.

  After she’d wiped her cheek clean, she clenched her teeth and turned to face Derek.

  His eyes widened, but the disgust she’d expected to see didn’t come. If anything, he looked so incredibly sad.

  “Felix did that to you?” he murmured.

  “Let’s see if men still find you attractive now, shall we?”

  “Yes.” She quickly spun around, needing to avert her eyes, but Derek’s gaze found her in the reflection of the mirror, making it impossible to hide from him.

  The scar didn’t look as gruesome as it had a year ago. No longer an angry red, it was now pinkish-white, but that didn’t bring her any relief because that pinkish-white line still evoked the same rush of shame. Starting right beneath her left eyebrow, the scar slashed diagonally across her cheek, then curved, ending right in the center of her chin. Derek might not be disgusted by it, but Chloe sure as hell was. The mere sight of that scar made her want to scream and curse and strike at anything in her path.

  “We were at a hospital charity benefit,” she said, unable to take her eyes off her own face. “I was mingling, playing the part of his perfect little wife. Several men flirted with me, but I made sure not to provoke Felix by being overly friendly. He was always insanely jealous, and I’d learned early on not to show more than polite interest toward other men. But that night this businessman kept trying to paw at me. He was coming on strong, and Felix didn’t like it one bit.”

  Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, following the path of her scar down to her chin. Derek took a step closer and stood behind her, his handsome face creased with unhappiness as they watched each other in the mirror.

  “He didn’t cause a scene during the party. He just announced we were leaving early, got our coats and led me outside. He didn’t drive home. Instead, we drove to his office building.” Acid coated her throat. “He said he needed to pick up something
he forgot. So we went up to his office and that’s when he freaked out. He called me a whore and accused me of encouraging the men at the party to flirt with me.”

  She swallowed hard. “He kept saying how pretty I was, how I used my beauty to manipulate men. And then he just exploded. He told me no man but him was allowed to look at me, and that he would make sure no one found me attractive ever again. So he grabbed a scalpel and...”

  She bit her lip, trying to find the courage to continue, but Derek didn’t let her. In the blink of an eye, he yanked her into his arms and held her so tightly she couldn’t draw a breath.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His breath warmed the top of her head. “I’m so very sorry.”

  Chloe wanted to stay in his arms forever. He smelled so damn good, felt so damn solid. Derek Colton truly was a rock—she now knew why his family depended on him so much, why everyone in the community turned to this man when they needed help, support, advice.

  But as much as she wanted to lose herself in his protective embrace, she refused to risk Derek’s life.

  “That’s why I have to go,” she whispered, reluctantly stepping out of his arms. “Felix is capable of anything. If he could do this—” she gestured to her cheek “—to his own wife, then he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you, a complete stranger.”

  Fighting a new dose of fear, she sucked in a breath and hurried toward her duffel bag. “I’m leaving.”

  “Running,” he said flatly.

  She tightened her jaw. “Yes. I’m running, okay?”

  “Without even securing a new identity?”

  “There’s no time.” She zipped up her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. “He knows I’m at the ranch and I need to go before he decides to show up for whatever twisted end game he’s got planned.”

  “Chloe.” Derek sighed. “Be reasonable. You’re panicked. Scared. You can’t make impulsive decisions in this condition. You need to be smart about this. So put down the bag, come into the kitchen and we’ll make some coffee and come up with a plan.”

  The fear swimming in her belly wouldn’t let her consider the suggestion. She marched to the door, stopping only to shoot him a look loaded with sorrow and regret. “I’m leaving, Derek.”