Colton Christmas Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  After a few minutes, Gray said quietly, “We’re getting close to the county road. Maybe we should go the rest of the way on foot?”

  Slade jerked a nod and swung down from Zeus’s back. After quickly tying his reins to a low-hanging branch, he crept forward, keeping to the shadows and moving from tree to tree. In the distance, the sound of the helicopter rotor was punctuated occasionally by a male voice or the crackle of static. Slade kept the volume of his radio low but monitored the exchange of communication between Chief Peters and the FBI agents. Mathilda had not been spotted yet.

  He gritted his teeth. He would stay out here, searching the frozen terrain until kingdom come if he had to, but he would not let Mathilda escape justice again. Today would be her day of reckoning, if he had to—

  A blur of color and movement caught his eye, and Slade stilled.

  Silently, Gray swung his gun up, aiming at the same spot. Motionless, they watched the shadows. Had it been a deer? An FBI agent?

  A moment later, Mathilda ran from behind a fir toward a break in the trees and the county road beyond. An old model sedan sat parked on the shoulder of the road, and she made a beeline toward it.

  With quick hand signals, Slade told Gray to swing wide and flank the fleeing woman. Gray suited orders to action, sprinting through the winter-dead undergrowth.

  Slade charged forward, keeping Mathilda in sight. As she burst from the cover of the trees, headed toward the getaway vehicle, Chief Peters and one of his officers emerged from cover on the opposite side of the empty road.

  “Stop!” Peters shouted.

  Mathilda spun toward Peters, fired a shot at him and kept running. As she neared the car, an FBI agent rose from behind the vehicle where he’d been lying in wait and raised his weapon. “Drop your weapon and lie on the ground!”

  Instead, Mathilda shot him in the chest, and the agent crumpled. Peters fired at Mathilda, and the rear window of the getaway car shattered. She darted to the far side of the sedan, and using the trunk as cover, returned fire.

  “We have you surrounded, Ms. Perkins,” Peters shouted. “It’s over. Drop your weapon.”

  “No!” Mathilda screeched, her attention on the police and the weapons the officers had aimed at her. The helicopter made a low, noisy pass over.

  Slade took advantage of her distraction and the din from the helo, which drowned out his footsteps, and eased from his cover. With his weapon poised, he crept up behind Mathilda. Gray surged forward, as well, just a few yards off Slade’s progress.

  Right before he reached Mathilda, she sensed his presence and swung around, her gun waving. “Stop!”

  Slade lunged, knocking the muzzle skyward as she fired. Using his momentum, he tackled her, and they tumbled to the ground.

  Mathilda thrashed, struggling to get free, but within seconds, Gray was next to Slade, grabbing her arms and helping restrain her.

  “Give it up, Ms. Perkins. It’s over. You’re under arrest,” Slade growled and wrested her gun away.

  “No!” Lying on her back, she glared at him, her eyes wild. “It’s not over until I have my revenge on Jethro Colton.”

  Chief Peters and his officers surrounded them, issuing her Miranda rights. The chief tried to drag her to her feet, but she crumbled to the ground, weeping and snarling with fury. “You can’t take me! I need my revenge!”

  Peters took out his handcuffs and clipped one shackle around Mathilda’s left wrist, the other to the car door handle.

  “Revenge? On Jethro Colton?” Slade glared at her, his feet braced in a wide stance, his fists clenched and shaking with adrenaline. “What did he do to you? He gave you a job and housing for the last thirty years.”

  “He never loved me like he should have!” she shouted back, her voice full of emotion. “I did everything for him, but I was always just a servant to him! Someone for the high and mighty lord of the manor to take to bed, then order around like a second-class citizen.”

  “If you love Jethro, why hurt him and his family?” Peters asked.

  Mathilda turned back toward the police chief. “Because he got sick, and I knew I’d run out of time to change his mind and make him love me. I wasted my life waiting for him, taking care of him, keeping his bed warm whenever he crooked his finger.” Her face puckered in a snarl. “He used me, and I refuse to see him die without exacting my pound of flesh.”

  Slade and Peters exchanged a look. The woman had been advised of her right to remain silent. If she chose to waive that right and spill her guts, they’d pump her for information before she changed her mind.

  “So you devised a scheme to kidnap his granddaughter and extort a ransom from him?” Slade asked.

  “He owed me! I stayed true to him through three worthless wives. But did he leave me anything in his will? No!”

  Slade remembered a comment Amanda had made earlier about the former police chief. “What about Drucker? You had an affair with him.”

  Mathilda visibly stiffened. “That doesn’t count. Drucker was an idiot. He believed he was in love with me and did anything I asked to keep me in his bed. He looked the other way when I told him to and covered up a truckload of evidence in the past months to keep me out of jail.”

  Chief Peters crouched in front of her and removed his sunglasses. “Did you kill Drucker?”

  She hesitated. “Let’s just say I helped him take the coward’s way out. I couldn’t risk him spilling his guts once he was found out.”

  “And Tom Brooks?” Slade asked.

  Her eyes narrowed. “That was Jared. He’d been squeamish about killing anyone, but I told him to get the baby whatever it took or I’d frame him for everything, and he’d not see a penny of the money I’d promised him.”

  “So Jared’s part in all this was about money?” Slade glanced at Gray, who, along with Catherine, had suffered plenty himself from the housekeeper’s machinations. “How much did you promise him?”

  “I promised him half of the ransom.” She chuckled wryly. “But he’d never have gotten it. The fool boy would have been a loose end. I couldn’t leave him alive and risk him talking to the wrong person.”

  A chill shimmied through Slade. Deep down, Mathilda’s jealousy and hatred had spawned pure evil.

  “How’d you convince him to work for you and do such hideous things?” Gray asked.

  “Same way I did with Duke. And Misty Mayhew. I found his weak spot and used it to my advantage. Jared had gotten himself in a financial bind with some unsavory folks. Greed and fear are powerful motivators.” Mathilda twisted her mouth in a smug smile. “Once I convinced him to kidnap Kate McCord and he assaulted Agnes in the process, I had the means to blackmail him to do my dirty work again. The deeper he got into things, the more influence I had over him to finish the job.”

  Down the road, the helicopter landed and a handful of FBI agents disembarked.

  “Okay, let’s take this to the station and process her,” Chief Peters said, heading off to meet the FBI agents.

  Slade knew he should feel some sense of satisfaction for having captured the mastermind behind all the horrors the Colton family and staff had suffered for months. Instead, studying Mathilda’s smug expression, her defiance despite being in custody, a festering rage for her unrepentant arrogance burned in his chest.

  He crouched in front of her and stuck his face in hers. “Don’t you care how many lives you’ve ruined? How much pain you’ve caused? The innocent people you killed?” he growled.

  Her eyes were cold and unemotional. “No. I only regret that I didn’t cause Jethro more pain, that I didn’t kill him months ago, so he’d know I was the one who had the last laugh.” She took a slow breath and slowly raised one eyebrow. “And I regret that I didn’t kill you when I had the chance. I’d be on my way to South America with Jethro’s millions by now if not for you and your interfere
nce.”

  His hand itched to smack her, but his code of honor wouldn’t allow him to hit a woman, even one as reprehensible as Mathilda. “Go to hell.”

  * * *

  Slade Kent rose to his feet and strode away from her, and a ball of icy hatred expanded in Mathilda’s gut. Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow. She refused to accept failure or a future in prison. If she was going down, she would take that cocky Kent down with her.

  The police officer nearest her was in conversation with Gray Stark, another thorn in her side. Keeping still, she cast a surreptitious glance around her, calculating. Then she drew a deep breath. And sprung to action.

  With a hard kick to the back of the officer’s knees, she made the policeman topple backward, his hands reaching for the ground to catch himself. With the sidearm at his hip now in her reach, she snatched the gun with her free right hand. Swung it toward Kent’s retreating back.

  “Slade, look out!” Gray shouted.

  Slade whipped around at the exact moment she fired. His body jerked as the bullet found its target, and he stumbled back. Fell.

  A final victory, she thought, as multiple gunshots fired around her. The force of the bullets slamming into her was stunning but not surprising. Suicide by cop. Her vision dimmed, and she slumped over. No prison...not for me.

  Chapter 23

  Slade opened his eyes slowly and blinked the room into focus. His brain was fuzzy and confused as he made a quick assessment. Hospital room. A row of prickly stitches on his arm. Something stiff taped to his nose. An ungodly pain in his left flank.

  He moved a hand there and groped the wad of bandages taped to his side.

  A feminine gasp preceded a beautiful, if tired-looking, face with the sexiest gold eyes he’d ever seen moving into his field of vision. “Slade? Thank goodness! How do you feel?”

  “Like I was kicked by a bull.”

  “I bet you do.” Amanda stroked his cheek, and he tugged his dry lips in a lopsided smile.

  A vague memory of Gray shouting at him wavered at the edges of his mind, then...nothing. “Why am I here? I’m kinda...fuzzy on what happened.”

  Her face creased with consternation. “Mathilda shot you.”

  “Mathilda?” The name spiked adrenaline through him. He flashed on a wintry road, officers surrounding the housekeeper who was handcuffed to a car. He tried to sit up, his heart thumping wildly. “But we had her in custody! Did she get away?”

  Amanda put a hand in the center of his chest and guided him back down against the pillows. “Whoa, cowboy. Take it easy. You’ve just had surgery to remove a bullet from your side.”

  When he complied, settling back on the bed, she continued, “She’s dead. After she shot you, the officers and agents at the scene fired at her.”

  Slade released a breath and curled his fingers around her hand. “And then?”

  “You were in and out of consciousness. Losing blood fast. They flew you and an injured FBI agent here on the FBI helicopter, and you were rushed into surgery.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “The hospital in Cheyenne.” A tired grin slanted across her lips, and she leaned closer, smoothing his hair with her fingers. “I had about forty heart attacks driving up here with Gabby and Trevor. I was so scared I was going to lose you!”

  “No way. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He caught her hand in his and kissed her palm. “Where’s our girl?”

  A wide grin spread across her face, telling him he’d remembered her gesture correctly. “She’s back at the ranch with her aunt Catherine, getting spoiled rotten.” Amanda paused and drew a deep breath. Released it. “You know, today was the first time in months I’ve felt truly safe leaving Cheyenne with someone else.” Tears filled her eyes, and she flashed a melancholy smile. “It is such a relief to have the incidents and tragedies at the ranch solved at last and the people behind this nightmare captured or killed.”

  “Finally.”

  Her brow dented, and she frowned. “Although I wouldn’t have wished for Mathilda to be killed, it does put a period on the whole ordeal, huh?”

  A quiet knock sounded on the door, and Chief Peters stuck his head in the room. “How’s the patient?”

  “Awake,” Amanda said, brightening for their visitor and waving him in. “And alive thanks to your fast action. I was just filling him in on some of what’s happened.”

  “Yeah. It’s been a busy day.” The police chief stepped into the room and slid his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for your help.”

  Slade used the button on the railing to raise the head of the bed. “Do you have a report on the FBI agent who was shot?”

  The police chief nodded. “He was wearing his Kevlar. The bullet broke a few ribs, but he was treated and released a little while ago.”

  “That’s good to know.” Slade wet his dry lips. “Is Jared talking?”

  “Yep. When we told him Mathilda was pinning everything on him, he opened up and spilled the whole story of his involvement, what Mathilda had done, where evidence had been hidden—”

  “Wait.” Amanda gave Chief Peters a puzzled look. “I thought you told me earlier Mathilda had been killed.”

  “She was.” The chief flashed a crooked smile. “But we haven’t told Jared that yet. She did give him up and tell us a good bit of her story before she shot Slade, though, so that much is true. So far he’s admitted to kidnapping your daughter, in addition to Kate McCord and your sister, Catherine, killing Tom Brooks and Jenny Burke, shooting at Jagger McKnight—”

  “The reporter who let you all believe he was Cole back in September?” Slade asked, remembering reading the name in Peters’s files.

  “Yeah, he lied to us in order to get a story on the family,” Amanda said, her tone reflecting disappointment, even hurt, at the man’s deception. She turned to Chief Peters. “Mathilda’s involvement explains how they got their hands on heirlooms like the scrap of Cole’s blanket. That’s what led us to think Jagger was Jethro’s long-lost son to begin with. Mathilda had access to every part of the ranch house as the head housekeeper, and having worked for the family so long, she knew what bits of evidence would be most incriminating and influential.”

  “Jared has confirmed the entire plot. Every attack and kidnapping was orchestrated by Mathilda, either to advance her ultimate plan to extort a ransom in exchange for Cheyenne, or to cover her tracks and keep people off her trail.”

  Amanda shook her head sadly. “So many people were hurt trying to find the truth and protect Cheyenne.” She jerked her head up, her expression hopeful. “What about Aurora and Dylan? Was Mathilda behind the attacks on them last month? I know our maid Misty Mayhew took the fall for most of what happened, but the rest...maybe it wasn’t men sent by Aurora’s ex-husband—”

  “Sorry,” Peters interrupted, shaking his head. “I know you’d love to have Dylan and your best friend back, but we’re sure Aurora’s ex has hitmen gunning for her. Mathilda may have been using Misty as her lackey, but Hope’s—as she needs to be known now—situation hasn’t changed. She needs to stay in Witness Protection.”

  “Oh.” Amanda visibly wilted.

  “Well...” Peters straightened and lifted a hand in a wave. “I should go. I have a lot of paperwork back at the station. In light of all the new information in the last forty-eight hours, I have open cases going back thirty years to tie up and close.” He nodded toward Slade. “Good to see you’re doing better.”

  “Thanks, chief.” As Peters left the room, Slade shifted his attention to Amanda, whose eyes were cast down, her expression troubled. “Amanda?”

  “You must hate my family. Especially my father.” She lifted melancholy eyes to his. “I’ve done nothing but preach to you about being honest and open, but my father’s lies have hurt you for years. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted n
othing to do with me or the Coltons ever again.”

  He frowned at her. “Really? That’s what you think?”

  “Jethro murdered your father and covered it up for years! He gave his son away and told the world Cole was kidnapped in order to save face, and Dead River Ranch is crawling with liars, killers, manipulators, freeloaders, womanizers—”

  “Amanda, I love you.”

  “—cheaters, fraud—” She stopped. Blinked. Stared at him. “What?”

  He lifted the corner of his mouth. “I don’t care about those other people. You and Cheyenne are the ones who matter to me.”

  “But my father—”

  “Did a lot of terrible things in his life. Yes. And I resent the hell outta him for killing my dad. Under other circumstances, I’d see that he was prosecuted to the full extent of the law. But the man’s dying.” He paused and squeezed her hand. “He only confessed to me after learning I have feelings for you. He wanted me to tell you how I felt. He said you deserved to be happy.”

  Amanda frowned, anger flaring in her eyes. “And his idea of helping me be happy is to tell the man I love that he killed his father? Sounds more like he wanted to drive a wedge between us.”

  Slade held his breath and twitched a crooked smile. “You love me?”

  She stilled. “I...I can’t.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “You’re leaving. You have a life in Jackson.”

  “Not the life I want anymore, if you’re not in it.” Her expression reflected surprise and yearning, and he gave her a minute to absorb his words before adding, “And while I can’t believe I’m defending your father, I also think he confessed what he’d done to me so we could start a life together with a clean slate. No hidden secrets that could hurt us later. No lies or deception between us.” He pulled her closer and swiped away a tear on her cheek. “I won’t hold your father’s sins against you. I have what I came to the ranch looking for. The truth. Falling in love with you is a bonus.”