by Regan Black
“Mr. Graves, these are for you.” He set the vase of colorful flowers on the counter where Norton could see them easily.
Her father’s brow furrowed. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Jarvis turned back to the cart. “This is for the precious guy in your arms.”
“We won’t need the crib,” she snapped ungraciously. “I think they’ll discharge him today.”
But it wasn’t the crib he’d pulled from the cart, but a deep square box. “Go ahead and open it,” he said, putting the box in her arms.
Her knees were jelly and she sank into the chair before they failed her. She heard the voices, but not the words as Jarvis and her father chatted.
She opened the box and stared at the contents. A small baseball cap and the smallest baseball mitt she’d ever seen were nested in with a soft, squishy ball stitched like a baseball.
“Jarvis?”
“Just thinking ahead. If he inherits your batting stance, you should get him started early.”
It should’ve been funny, a flashback to their first meeting. Maybe she’d find the humor and kindness behind the gesture later. But he’d said you, not we. Why was he crushing her heart this way?
“This one is for you.” He set the box of tiny baseball gear aside and rested a longer box across her knees.
“A bat? You’re definitely ahead of yourself.” Would she even share these things with her son? Silas was too young to remember this month, so full of upheaval, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be strong enough to share even the happier stories with him.
“Just open it.”
She didn’t know what to make of the quirk of his lips. Avoiding his gaze, she slid the ribbon off and raised the lid. She frowned at the contents. It wasn’t the baseball bat she’d expected. It was a length of hickory, polished to a gleam and cushioned in a bed of midnight blue velvet. There was a sheer ribbon tied around one end of the stick. A sparkle in the center of the bow caught her eye. It couldn’t be...but it sure looked like a diamond engagement ring.
“What’s that?” Her father leaned over Silas for a peek.
“Nothing. It’s a long story,” she answered, scrambling to put the lid back on the box. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening.
“Let’s put the right ending on that story.” Jarvis dropped to one knee in front of her. “I love you, Mia. You and Silas. You’ve changed me, shown me what lasting love looks like. Will you marry me and be my family? Will you let me love you both for the rest of our days?”
“Say yes!” her father encouraged.
“What happened to trusting my judgment and intuition?” she asked, shooting her dad a look. To Jarvis she said, “I’m more of a package deal now than I was before. You said—”
“I’ve said a lot of stupid things. It was all fear talking.”
“Fear?”
He nodded. “All my life I’ve lost the people I love most. Love felt more like a curse or a burden, until you.”
She remembered how he’d resisted her attempts to give him some perspective.
“I was out there searching for my past and when I stumbled onto you and Silas I found my future. Marry me, Mia. Let’s build the family we both deserve.”
“Oh, Jarvis, yes.” Her heart swelled with joy. “I love you, too. I was afraid to admit it and run you off.”
The smile that creased his face melted away every cold spot inside her. Hope and love gleamed in his brown eyes. He glided his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear. It seemed she was crying in front of everyone after all.
At least this time, for the first time since Silas was born, she was weeping tears of joy.
* * *
Jarvis could hardly believe his proposal had worked out. Soon he would have a wife, and with a little paperwork, Silas would legally be his, too. It had all come together and he was the happiest man on the planet. Every time Silas fussed or cried, he jumped in, eager to provide whatever his little guy needed. He’d have to curb that tendency in time, but at this stage there was no such thing as too much love. He’d never thought he had so much love inside him, ready to pour out over the people who mattered.
This evening, after another long day of work, he’d hustled back home—his new home—to pick up his fiancée. Norton had moved with them to the property Mia had found and was babysitting so Jarvis and Mia could go over to the Triple R for dinner with his siblings and Colton cousins.
As he pulled through the main gate and followed the drive toward Ainsley’s wing of the Colton mansion, it felt remarkably normal to be here as family rather than just as an employee. Not family like Mia and Silas, but family with shared history. Roots he would be sure to nurture for the next generation.
“Are you okay with this?” she asked.
“Perfect,” he replied honestly. “Since finding Herman’s box, I’m more at peace with all of it than ever before. You gave me that, Mia. Thank you.” He held her hand as they walked up to a sprawling deck where Ainsley was setting out a charcuterie board on a long table.
“Welcome, welcome.” She invited them up to join her on the expansive deck. “You’re the first to arrive. It’s a gorgeous evening,” she said, grinning. “The two of you look so happy.”
The two of them. It was a heady sensation going from solo to a family. He had a fiancée and a son to raise and, hopefully, more children in the years ahead. He and Mia were creating something that would stand the test of time, no matter what life threw at them.
He turned as another car pulled up, and grinned as Spencer got out. Mia gave his hand a squeeze. It was a wonderful reminder that he had love beyond his brother and sister now. Now. Forever.
“Katrina’s on her way,” Spencer said as he joined them. “I couldn’t wait to tell you the good news. Regina pleaded guilty to everything.”
Mia relaxed against Jarvis and he slipped an arm around her waist. “Everything?”
His brother nodded. “Threats, extortion, drugging Norton, all of it. She even gave us the name of the man she’d been with in the video. Same guy knifed Mia’s tire at the courthouse and came poking around the ranch, too.”
Mia gaped at Jarvis. “He what?”
“I spotted tracks at the warming hut and didn’t see the sense in alarming you.” He bore up under the hard glare, lifting her hand to his lips. “It’s the last secret I’ll keep from you.”
She and Ainsley traded a skeptical glance. “This calls for champagne,” Ainsley said brightly. “Four glasses?”
“I’ll have to take a rain check,” Spencer replied. “I can’t stay.”
“That’s a shame,” Ainsley said. “Join us for the toast at least. Have you heard anything more about Ace’s situation?”
Jarvis had heard bits and pieces of the accusations that the former Colton Oil CEO had been switched at birth with another baby at Mustang Valley General. Spencer hadn’t discussed every detail of the investigation with him, but his cousins had started opening up since he’d shared the contents of Herman’s box with Asher.
“I have a working theory,” Spencer said. “It’s taking time to come together.”
The four of them settled around a heavy ironwork table and Ainsley filled three champagne glasses and poured water for Spencer. They toasted to newfound family.
“I’m tracking down verification,” Spencer continued. “Everything in my gut says Micheline Anderson is Luella Smith, the other mother at the hospital the night Ace was born. I’m sure she switched the babies.”
Ainsley studied the bubbles in her glass. “If you’re right, where is the real Ace Colton?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Spencer shook his head. “Micheline’s Affirmation Alliance Group feels like a cult to me. She swears it isn’t and I can’t prove it, yet, but the woman might not be as benign as we thought.”
“How will you be sure one
way or another?” Mia asked.
“Time,” he said again. “I’ll keep asking questions and we’ll follow every thread until we have the facts.”
“You’re not the only one with a gut instinct,” Ainsley said. “I have a terrible feeling that Micheline is our Ace’s biological mother.” She sipped her champagne. “This is such a complicated mess.”
“It is,” Spencer agreed. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the station.”
“Don’t worry.” Jarvis lifted his chin toward the car as his brother drove away. “With Spencer on the case and all of us invested in finding the truth, he’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe,” Ainsley said, thoughtfully.
Jarvis knew Ainsley by reputation more than personal experience, but he couldn’t help worrying that she might do something rash in an effort to find something to help her family.
His family, too.
Fortunately Katrina, Bella and Holden, Bella’s fiancé, arrived, followed by Asher and Willow. It was a fabulous evening of good food and laughter, and the relaxed kind of family dinner he’d never expected to enjoy quite so much.
On the way home, he voiced his concerns about Ainsley to Mia. It was amazing to have someone to talk with about anything and everything. She listened attentively, assuring Jarvis that his rapidly expanding family would find a way to work together to get to the bottom of the Ace Colton mystery and all the other recent troubles.
After kissing Silas goodnight, they retired to their bedroom and, in the luxury of their king-size bed, Jarvis made up for all those nights when he hadn’t done anything more than kiss her. When they were both sated, he pulled her close, as he’d done night after night on that narrow bunk, and reveled in the bliss of having a family of his own.
* * *
Don’t miss previous installments in
The Coltons of Mustang Valley miniseries:
Colton Baby Conspiracy by Marie Ferrarella
Colton’s Lethal Reunion by Tara Taylor Quinn
Colton Family Bodyguard by Jennifer Morey
Colton First Responder by Linda O. Johnston
In Colton’s Custody by Dana Nussio
Colton Manhunt by Jane Godman
Colton’s Deadly Disguise by Geri Krotow
And be sure to read the next volumes in the series:
Colton’s Undercover Reunion by Lara Lacombe
Deadly Colton Search by Addison Fox
Both available in May 2020!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Snowbound Targets by Karen Whiddon.
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Snowbound Targets
by Karen Whiddon
Chapter 1
Any other time, the sight of the snow-capped craggy Colorado mountain peaks would have filled Jason Sheffield with joy. Tonight, with the stains of war coloring the edges of his vision with blood, he gave a grim nod toward their majesty and continued on up the twisting road. A few miles ahead, he’d reach his sanctuary. Only then would he allow himself to let down his guard, an instinctive, protective reaction the result of spending far too long in the volatile war zones of Afghanistan and Syria.
Home now, he reminded himself, turning off the two-lane blacktop onto the narrow gravel tract that climbed through evergreens and aspens. Finally, he caught a glimpse of the red metal roof of his cabin, perched on the side of the hill looking out over the valley below and the mountain range stretching into the distance.
This was where he came when he wasn’t working, traveling around the hot spots of the globe and reporting right in the middle of the action. When he’d been younger, the danger had filled him with adrenaline. These days, he just felt weary.
After parking his four-wheel drive Jeep, he grabbed his heavy duffel bag, hefted it over his shoulder and started up the path toward his front door. His refuge. Since he hadn’t been back here in six months, one week and three days, he anticipated there’d be quite a bit of dust to deal with. At least he’d stopped in Walsenburg and picked up food along with a bag of ice and a large ice chest in which to stash the perishables. Since he didn’t plan to go anywhere for at least a week, he’d brought plenty. And with the ever-present possibility of snow, he’d made sure to grab enough to last two weeks minimum.
About to insert his key in the front door, he frowned. The door was already unlocked. Odd. He checked the fake rock on the side of the path where he always kept a spare. The key was missing.
Damn. He froze. He felt as if he’d somehow stepped back into a house in a back alley in Kabul. Dropping his duffel bag on the front porch bench, he drew his pistol. Heart pounding in his ears, he shoved open the front door and sidestepped inside, gun raised. At first, as his eyes adjusted to the interior lighting, he saw nothing that appeared amiss. Except a lamp was on. He swiveled left and right, his weapon following his movement.
There. A lump of various-colored ragged blankets on his couch. They weren’t his. And judging from the shape, someone or something hid underneath.
“Show yourself,” he barked. “Hands up. Now.”
The lump didn’t move. At all.
Mouth dry, he gave the order again. This time, the pile of blankets stirred. A sleepy pair of long-lashed, ice blue eyes peered out at him. He noted the silky shoulder-length dark hair, the heart-shaped face and swallowed. His intruder was female. A stunningly beautiful female. With a huge purple bruise on the left side of her face.
That didn’t make her any less dangerous. He’d learned that early on in the Middle East. Of course, this woman wasn’t wearing a burka. And they were in Cedar, Colorado, not war-torn Afghanistan. Still, he kept his gun trained on her as a precaution. Years of living on the edge of danger had taught him that.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my cabin?” he demanded.
Instead of answering, she simply stared at him, unblinking and solemn. Again, he noted her beauty, but discarded the thought instantly.
“Do you speak English?”
Sitting up and stretching, a graceful movement that drew his unwilling attention to the swell of her breasts under her baggy gray sweatshirt, she slowly nodded. “I think... Yes. I do.
“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” A slight frown creased her forehead as she eyed him. “And who are you?”
“I might ask you the same question,” he drawled, lowering his pistol to his side, but keeping it out just in case.
But she looked beyond him, her gaze taking in the polished oak paneling, the rustic furniture, even the high ceiling with the deer antler chandelier that hung over the dining table. “Where am I?”
Had he imagined the faint touch of horror in her silky voice?
“In my cabin,” he told her. “Which leads to another question I have for you. How’d you get in here? I assume you found the hidden key, but how’d you get up here? I didn’t see a vehicle, and I find it hard to believe you were out hiking and stumbled across my place.”
If anything, her frown deepened. “I...don’t know.” Confusion turned to fear as she pushed to her feet, shoving her hair away from her face. She turned in a circle, swallowing hard, taking in her surroundings with barely concealed panic before facing him. “I’m sorry. I have absolutely no idea who I am.”
Stunned, Jason stared at her. Whether he was being played or not, she clearly believed every word she said. He sighed and holstered his gun. “Did you hit your head?”
Her hand went up, an almost involuntary motion, sweeping under her hair. “I don’t think so. At least, it doesn’t hurt.” Again, she swallowed, drawing his gaze to the graceful lines of her throat. “I don’t understand. How
is this even possible? How can I be in a place I don’t recognize, with a man I don’t know and have no idea of my own name?” Her voice rose slightly with each word and he saw how her hand shook.
“I have no idea,” he answered, fighting back his own exhaustion, which was winner over his skepticism. “But I’ve been traveling for a long time and I need to get some rest.”
“Friend or foe?” she asked, her expression serious as she caught and held his gaze.
Caught off guard, he wasn’t sure how to respond. “That depends,” he finally answered. “On which you turn out to be.” Then he pointed toward his bedroom. “I’m going to get some sleep. I will be locking my door. If you’re still here when I wake up, we’ll talk some more and try to figure this out.”
When she finally nodded, he managed a tired smile. On his way past her, he went to squeeze her shoulder, intending to offer her some sort of reassurance that everything was going to be okay.
Before he could, she yelped, as if his touch had hurt her. And then, as he gaped at her through a haze of exhaustion, she yanked him, put her shoulder under his armpit, and somehow flipped him past the couch, past her and onto the floor. Hard onto his back.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
Stunned, he managed to scramble back to his feet, first checking to make sure she hadn’t managed to grab his pistol. Nope, still in the holster.
Silent, they faced off. This time, he knew to be on guard.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Want?” Eyes huge, she stared back at him. Her mouth trembled. “I don’t know what just happened.”
“You attacked me,” he pointed out.
“No.” Slowly, she shook her head. “I defended myself. You touched me.” Her voice shook.
Fear. More than that, absolute terror. Like some of the rape victims he’d met in Kabul.
