Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021

by Anna J. Stewart

  Her exact words had been “not in a million years,” so he’d figured his odds of talking her into coming were low. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to nap on the sofa under a fuzzy lap blanket until it was time to go to bed for real. It had been a hell of a week for her—for them both—and she had the added stress of a tiny human growing inside her body.

  “Besides, you know I can’t bring a female friend to a family dinner without giving Mom ideas about grandkids again.”

  He coughed and turned away to cover it. Though his brothers and sister had joked about who would make Italia Vespucci Colton a grandmother first, he’d never dreamed he would be the one to do it. Now he couldn’t wait to tell her.

  “I’m worried about you, little brother,” she said.

  “Don’t be,” he assured her. Even with the challenges he faced, he’d never doubted that the Coltons always had each other’s backs.

  “Did I hear you say you are bringing a woman to dinner?” Italia nearly floated across the room to Travis, her short and perfectly arranged brown hair barely moving, though the pearls she always wore swayed. She greeted him with air kisses on both cheeks, a custom she’d brought with her from her native Italy. “How are you, my son?”

  She held his face between her hands and stared into his eyes in another tradition, this one purely hers. His artist mom stared at him as if recording his features for one of her paintings or even memorizing the shape of his face for a sculpture.

  “Nobody’s coming with me, Mom. I’m doing well, though,” he said when she stepped back. “Apparently, you are, too. Your hearing is practically bionic when it comes to matchmaking.”

  She only smiled at that. “It is not good for you to be alone.”

  His mother couldn’t have been more right about that, though there was no way he would tell her now. Sometimes it scared him how right it felt seeing Tatiana every day at work and then at dinner each night. He could get used to that life.

  Melissa took that opportunity to step forward. “Don’t worry, Mom. Travis isn’t alone. He has his new roommate. He invited her tonight, but she couldn’t come.”

  “Her?” Italia asked.

  Travis glared at his sister, taking back every kind thought he’d had about her being on his side.

  “He didn’t tell you?” Melissa continued. “The woman who just started as his co-CEO at Colton Plastics. He’s invited her to stay with him for a while.”

  “Tatiana Davison?” Frank appeared with them as if he’d already been part of the conversation. He turned to his wife. “She’s the daughter of a suspected serial killer. Len Davison.”

  Italia’s eyes widened. “Is that right, Travis?”

  It was clear which of them watched or read the news, but his dad didn’t seem surprised that Tatiana was staying with him, either. Had Melissa told him about that?

  Instead of waiting for his son to answer his wife’s question, Frank posed one of his own. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, son?”

  Frank shoved his hand back through the tiny island of salt-and-pepper hair that remained on top of his head. It was a gesture of frustration that Travis recognized from having been the source of it so many times.

  Why had he gone to the dinner at all? This was just like the night last month when he’d made the announcement about his new co-CEO at that gathering at police headquarters. Their parents hadn’t been in attendance, so it shouldn’t have surprised him that they might have a repeat of that mess tonight.

  “Hi, Dad. Good to see you, too.”

  “Yeah. Good to see you.”

  Frank managed a smile of sorts as he extended his hand. Travis shook it and then pulled back. The moment was no more or less awkward than any of their greetings in years.

  “Oh, Frank, my love, is it not wonderful having Travis home? It has been so long.” Italia slid up next to her husband and leaned her head on his shoulder, working her magic on him like only she could.

  Frank smiled, despite his obvious attempt not to. “Yes, it is, sweetheart.” Stanton must have seen this as his chance to break for the kitchen, where Antonio, Everleigh and Clarke stood in the wide opening, close enough to hear but wisely out of the line of still possible fire. Stanton leaned close to his sister as he passed.

  “That was cold, Melissa,” he said in a loud stage whisper.

  And they wondered why he didn’t visit more often.

  Their father spoke up again. “I heard from my brother, Geoff, that Miss Davison was with you when you babysat little Danny the other night, too.”

  That explained his father’s lack of surprise. He’d had extended-family help in collecting the details.

  “Glad to hear the Colton gossip line is in great working order.” Travis raised both hands as if he’d been arrested. “Guilty of helping out a cousin in need. I’ll make sure not to pick up my phone next time anyone calls.”

  He resisted the urge to rub his temples, though his head was already aching. Why was he being asked to explain himself? He was thirty-four years old. Didn’t anyone see that? Because he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, he started anyway.

  “I would have told you all myself... Anyway, after the recent events involving Tatiana’s father, she and I decided it wouldn’t be safe for her to stay alone right now. She lost her mother, and her dad is—” he paused again and shrugged “—missing.”

  Italia stepped forward, wringing her hands. “It is kind of you to offer your help, but it is not your responsibility, no?”

  “Sure, it’s my responsibility.” He wasn’t sure how he’d managed not to say she. If he’d done that, he would have had even more to explain.

  “Tatiana is my co-CEO. Let’s forget for a minute that she’s only recently returned to Grave Gulch and has no support system. Or that, as members of this family, we were taught to help others when we could.” He shot glances at his siblings, whose actual jobs involved that calling. “Even pushing those things aside, the truth is, whatever happens to Tatiana Davison ultimately affects Colton Plastics.”

  Frank crossed his arms. “Which is why I’m surprised that you agreed to bring her into the company during this volatile time. Her association with her father might be problematic for the company.”

  Surprised. Travis had heard that word before. It was code for disappointed, and he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

  “We’ll be okay, Dad. My associates know who my father is, and they’re still willing to do business with me.”

  Frank blinked several times and pressed his lips together at the slight, but he didn’t respond. In all the time that his dad had been discounting his ideas and armchair quarterbacking his dreams, it was the first time Travis had stood up for himself. What had changed?

  Clarke clapped his hands loudly as he stepped out from the kitchen. “Well, this has been fun. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want to eat before Mom’s roast beef gets cold and tastes like shoe leather.”

  “As if that would ever happen,” Stanton chimed in.

  The dinner scramble resumed, though maybe there were fewer smiles than there had been earlier. Italia hurried into the kitchen, donned a pair of heavy oven mitts, and pulled the steel lid off the roaster.

  “Perfect,” she called out. “The beef tenderloin has had just enough time to rest.”

  Longer than it needed but Travis appreciated her fib this time. He shot a look of gratitude to Clarke as well for stopping him from saying something worse to their father in the heated moment. The special bond the two of them had always shared required no words. In his former role as “the Colton on the wrong path,” Clarke understood what it was like to be an outsider.

  Within minutes, they were sitting around the massive table, their parents on the ends per tradition. Some of the dishes they passed were slightly cold or overdone, including the gravy Clarke had been stirring. Yet no one dared to c
omplain as they inhaled all the side dishes, most of the roasted potatoes and the massive hunk of still perfectly cooked meat.

  As Travis took his last bite, Italia leaned closer to him and spoke in a low voice. “You must do what your heart tells you is right.”

  Travis shifted to look at her. His mother’s usually smiling eyes were shinier than usual. Great. Now he’d made her cry, too.

  “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate your support.”

  He glanced at the other end of the table and found Frank looking back. Dad and son looked away again, two fighters retreating to their corners between rounds.

  “You father supports you as well.”

  Travis didn’t bother looking up this time. “Does he? I don’t see it.”

  “He does, of course. He worries also.” She cleared her throat. “As do I.”

  His mother’s words echoed Tatiana’s from a few days before, and yet he still didn’t believe it. Even if his father was only concerned about him, that didn’t give him the right to question only his decisions and not those of his siblings. When he couldn’t come up with anything to say that wouldn’t hurt her, he patted his mother’s hand instead.

  “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  “I know you will do this.”

  As usual, his mother’s easily offered faith in him softened the edges of his father’s skepticism. He wished he could tell her about the bean in the black-and-white photo. More than that, regardless of what he’d said earlier, he longed to introduce her to the baby’s mother. Clearly, the time wasn’t right yet, but maybe sometime soon it would be.

  Regular conversations had resumed along the table, and in this crowd, that meant talking about two subjects: police work and wedding planning. Travis even had the chance to tune out as Melissa and Everleigh discussed the pros and cons of having outdoor ceremonies.

  Antonio caught Travis’s attention and rolled his eyes. “As long as the reception is at my hotel, I told Melissa I’m up for whatever she likes.”

  “Are you sure you want that, Antonio?” Travis said. “Our family doesn’t have such a good record for wedding receptions at the Grave Gulch Hotel. There tend to be kidnappings and mayhem instead of just a big cake.”

  Antonio shook his head. “Don’t remind me.”

  Everleigh raised both hands in a sign to stop. “Bad joke. Bad joke.”

  “Yeah, who let him get past the censors?” Clarke agreed with his fiancée.

  An awkward pause followed, and then someone—it could have been Stanton—started laughing, and then they all did.

  “Not funny yet?” Stanton asked.

  “No, not yet,” Clarke and Everleigh said in unison.

  Frank leaned his forearms on the table to take charge of the conversation. “Well, I believe that a lot of good came out of that night, too. Our daughter found her future husband. And information came out to clear the good name of our son’s beautiful fiancée.” He gestured first at Antonio with Melissa on one side of the table and then at Everleigh with Clarke on the other.

  “He’s right,” Stanton said. “Danny’s doing fine, too. Just ask Travis, the kid’s new babysitter.”

  Everyone got a good laugh out of that one.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t all bad.” Clarke paused to lift his bride-to-be’s hand to his cheek and then lowered it but kept their fingers linked. “Even Everleigh’s grandma doesn’t seem to mind home detention at all with her new flat-screen TV and several streaming services.”

  “So, what’s the scoop on Randall Bowe?” Stanton asked Melissa, who sat next to him. “Anyone track him down yet?”

  At least someone had asked the questions, Travis figured, because they all had to be curious.

  Melissa only shook her head.

  “Crafty little scientist. Maybe that’s why he got away with tampering with evidence for so long,” Stanton added.

  “It’s a mess, all right,” she admitted.

  She received several murmurs of agreement on that one, though none of the Coltons wanted to admit that the GGPD might have been asleep at the wheel when it came to Bowe’s collection of questionable results. It was enough of a headache for Melissa, who was ultimately responsible for her department.

  “Trail’s going cold on that one.” Then she sat straighter in her seat. “But Bryce is getting some good leads in New York City, looking for—”

  She cut off her words and shot a glance at Travis across the table before exchanging a look with Clarke.

  Travis planted his hands on the table and pushed his shoulders back. “Are you kidding? You can’t talk about the manhunt for Len Davison because I’m here?”

  “No, that’s not it, bro,” Clarke said.

  Melissa wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I shouldn’t have brought it up at all. I can’t really discuss an active investigation.”

  Travis crossed his arms and sank back into the upholstered chair. “But you were going to until you realized that the enemy was here.”

  “The enemy?” she scoffed. “Well, it is awkward, since you’re living with the suspect’s daughter.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do? Race out of here and tell her everything you said? And what’s she supposed to do, pass it on to her dad by carrier pigeon?

  “She told you she doesn’t know anything.” He jumped to his feet then, no longer able to stay seated. “Until that newscast, she didn’t even know where he was.”

  Melissa carefully folded her hands. “Let’s just take a breath. Then we’ll talk.”

  “Do not use your de-escalation tactics on me.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “But if you think Tatiana doesn’t know more than she’s sharing, then you might want to ask yourself how you can be so certain about a woman you barely know. Do you have blinders around her?”

  Travis managed to stop himself from saying something he could never take back. “I can’t do this.”

  He glanced from one end of the table to the other.

  “Thanks for dinner, Mom and Dad. I’m sorry I won’t be around to clean up.”

  Then he strode away from his family and through the tunnel. He grabbed his things and was out the door before any of them could come after him. They didn’t trust him. They never had.

  He hurried to his SUV and backed out of the drive. Only when he could no longer see the big yellow house in his rearview mirror could he finally breathe again.

  CHAPTER 15

  Tatiana had never appreciated the sound of a garage door opening more. That meant Travis was home. Relief flooded through her as she sat up on the sofa where she’d been pretending to sleep for the past hour. It wasn’t that Micah Lowe was a bad guy. She hadn’t even been uncomfortable having him inside the condo with her, as he seemed competent in his job, regularly checking the security system, and he was beefy enough to take an intruder with one hand. But if he gave one more Detroit team sports statistic, she would run outside and beg her stalker to abduct her.

  “Sounds like your guy’s back early,” Micah said.

  “He’s not my guy,” she said automatically, though the idea of it wasn’t as distasteful as it had been a week before. Sometimes, it seemed downright appealing.

  “Whatever you say. I was just hired to do a job.”

  “Thanks for doing it, especially on such short notice.”

  Micah grinned, flashing a chipped front tooth that he’d probably earned on the job.

  “People in my business can be accommodating for the right price.”

  She was sure Travis had paid it, too. If Micah hadn’t been available, there was no way Travis would have left her alone.

  “Tatiana. Micah,” Travis called out as he entered the house. “Everything okay?”

  “In here,” Micah said.

  Travis made it to the great room too quickly to have been walking. He still had one arm in his coa
t sleeve. His movements were sharp, agitated. Something must have happened at his parents’ house.

  “I didn’t expect you to get back so early,” she said once he’d stowed his coat.

  “Me neither.” He crossed into the room and sank on the other end of the sofa, resting his head on the back pillows and closing his eyes. “Didn’t make it to dessert. And it was Mom’s legendary raspberry cobbler.”

  “Then it must have been bad. It would take a lot for me to skip even average cobbler.” She’d hoped her joke would lighten the mood, but Travis didn’t respond for several seconds.

  “It was a lot,” he said finally.

  She was tempted to crawl over and curl up next to him. Would he find her presence comforting? Would he push her away a third time?

  Micah cleared his throat, reminding her that he was still there. He hadn’t been that quiet all night. She clasped the lap blanket to her, feeling strangely exposed.

  The bodyguard stepped around to the front of the couch and grinned. “I hate to interrupt this family moment, but there is the matter of my payment.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Travis stood and fished in his back pocket for his wallet. Then he pulled out some bills. A lot of them.

  “Any reports from tonight?”

  Micah shook his head. “Not a one. House is locked up tighter than a drum, and no suspicious movement near the perimeter. No repeat dog walkers, either.”

  “Good.” Travis pressed the money into Micah’s hand. “I came home earlier than we discussed, but it’s all there.”

  “Thanks, man. Awfully decent of you.”

  “I don’t do anything just to be decent,” Travis said. “I just want to make sure that if I call you up, last-minute, again, you’ll fit me into your schedule.”

  “Unless I have Red Wings playoff tickets, I’m all yours.”

  Travis gave the other man a strange look, but Tatiana shook her head to warn him not to ask. He showed Micah to the door.

  “What was that all about?” he asked when he returned.

  “That man loves sports,” she admitted. “I thought security guards were supposed to stay silent, or is that just in the movies?”