Colton First Responder (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 4)

by Linda O. Johnston

  She’d have made a great actress, he figured. But he didn’t tell her that. Not now, at least. Not until they’d put all this behind them and she could return to her life as an heiress with contacts and charitable instincts—and then decide if there was anything else she wanted to do. He could only hope it would still involve him.

  “So where are we going?” she asked in a moment.

  “This way,” he said and took her hand.

  It still felt the same to him—warm and sweet and sexy as she held onto his while they began walking.

  You’re doing this because you’re a first responder who does all he can to help people, he reminded himself. And this woman needed help.

  Eventually, no matter what he wished for, they might both go their own ways, and he could only hope, at this point, that hers didn’t involve prison.

  His either, since if anyone caught him he could be charged with abetting a fugitive.

  He reminded himself that he shouldn’t care for her beyond someone who desperately needed his help, but recognized that was no longer entirely true.

  Ignoring the calls of birds and the sound of twigs cracking beneath their feet, the only noises out here, he led Savannah around the rise at the base of the hill—and beyond some bushes he pushed aside to reveal the opening into the bunker. At first it was like walking inside a cave, and Grayson still held Savannah’s hand as they entered, using the flashlight function on his phone in the other. But at the back was another opening, and it led farther inside to the area Grayson had made his own.

  It had no windows, of course, or other openings to the outside, but over time he had brought in folding chairs and a cot and shelves where he stacked foods and chips and things that didn’t go stale fast, and of course bottles of water.

  Not to mention a whole variety of battery-operated lanterns, better than the ones he had brought to the cabin.

  Over time, he’d also brought in ornate draperies to hide the stone walls, and vinyl tiles resembling wood to cover most of the floor. He had walled off the end that led to the actual mineshaft. And he’d spent enough time here that he had brought in a tall bookcase that was now loaded with books he had read—even though now he used an e-reader more.

  He had even worked out an area that could be used as an off-the-grid compost bathroom retreat, with another drape as a doorway.

  It was his haven as a kid and occasionally now, too.

  And it was about to become Savannah’s.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  He explained his childhood retreat. Yes, he was a Colton and lived at the Triple R with the rest of his siblings and his father and stepmother, but he’d needed to get away, too.

  “I was never particularly close to any of them,” he said. “I’m still not, though I can’t explain it entirely. I knew I didn’t like taking orders from them and would eventually have my own life, and so I did—but this former mineshaft became my refuge when I needed it as a kid. I call it my bunker.”

  “It’s amazing,” Savannah said, looking around. She turned back to him. “And I appreciate your sharing such an important place in your life with me.”

  “Any time,” he said, meaning it. He figured she might have wanted a refuge like this when her relationship with Zane began to deteriorate, but he didn’t ask.

  “So now I want to hear what you learned in town that made you decide I couldn’t stay in the cabin anymore.”

  “It may be fine,” he responded. “But...well, maybe we’ll go back there depending on how things work out over the next day or so. But here’s the thing.”

  They sat in folding chairs across from each other, and Grayson told Savannah about his conversation with PJ—and the hair clip that had been found beside Ian Wright’s murdered body.

  “Oh no!” Savannah looked frightened and reached for what was left of her hair. “That does sound like one of mine I had monogrammed. Obviously, it was planted there. I’m being framed again.”

  “So I figured.” Grayson reached toward her and took her hands in his once more. “I was pondering that on my drive to the cabin. If you’re being framed, it has to be whoever framed you for the first murder—most likely your ex, if you’re correct about his still being alive. He’d have been recognized going into Wright’s law office, but then so might Schuyler”

  “I agree,” Savannah said, nodding. “Do you think it could be both Zane and Schuyler working together?”

  “Exactly,” Grayson agreed, “since it appears they were co-conspirators before and that relationship most likely continues. Now all we have to do is figure out a way to point the cops in that direction rather than at you. My suspicion is that it was Schuyler who murdered Ian since he’s more likely to be out in public than Zane, though it’s not clear how anyone sneaked into the law office and got past the receptionist without being seen. I guess that will come to light when the case is finally solved. I just wish we knew of a way to show the cops the way to go with some genuine evidence.”

  Savannah sat back, letting go of his hands, her expression thoughtful. “You know, I may not have mentioned before, but dear old Zane liked to think of himself as a techie genius. He hid security devices on his computer and phones, mostly to protect the security of his investment banking interests, though he only used one main camera in the house since he didn’t want to be photographed. He recorded conversations on the phone and in various rooms and all, but I didn’t know what happened to it all after we divorced. I didn’t particularly like it when we were married, and as things went downhill I figured he was recording me. I confronted him to try to protect my privacy, but he mostly ignored me. I assumed the equipment was still there but once I wasn’t living in the house I didn’t care. But right now—well, it may be a stretch, but if my disguise is good enough I’d like to sneak into his place and find out if there’s anything there of his conversations with Ian and Schuyler about his disappearing or me or anything.”

  “Didn’t the police check for stuff like that?”

  “I don’t know. I heard in court that they did conduct some investigation at Zane’s house, but any particularly valuable stuff might have been well hidden. I got the impression from Ian that it wouldn’t be a good idea to mention it since Zane could have said things about me that would implicate me even more, so I kept quiet about it. And now that I know Ian wasn’t really on my side... Well, since I’ve been sitting around thinking so much, I’ve come up with some ideas where those kinds of things could be. They may lead to nothing, of course, but I’d feel so much better if I could at least try.” She looked at him with a hopeful grin on her face, which looked so different with the makeup. “Could you imagine that? Finding proof to exonerate me?”

  “Sounds like a great idea.”

  “So...later today or tomorrow, I want to go to town, disguised even more thoroughly than I am now. I need to figure out a fake name in case someone asks, but I want to go to a store or fast-food place or something near where I used to hang out and see if anyone recognizes me. I know it could be a mistake, but I don’t think so. Once I feel secure in my disguise, I can go places and do a whole lot more to try to locate Zane and find evidence that he and his friends framed me.”

  Grayson stood as adrenaline spiked and mental alarms went off inside him. “I don’t know—”

  “I do,” she said. “Just for a short while, and I don’t want you anywhere near me after you drop me off someplace secluded, so no one will know I was in your car. But now that I look at least a little different, I’m finally feeling some hope, despite all the awful things going on and what you told me about the cops... I need this, Grayson. To give it a try. Please.”

  Her appeal was echoed in her pleading expression. “Well—” He felt himself giving in.

  “Please, please,” she repeated. “Pretty please with lots of sugar on it, or first responder good stuff or whatever. I promise that, no ma
tter what, I won’t mention you or how you’ve helped me if I do get caught. I need to take the chance. I just need to do something at last.”

  He could understand what she was saying.

  He also knew he wouldn’t just drop and desert her. He would act as the first responder he was: he would help her.

  Because she would need help, he told himself. Not because there was anything other than friendship—and lust—between them.

  “Well, okay,” he finally said. “But I’ll be there, too, in the background at least. We have to agree on when and how you should contact me so I can get you out of there if it becomes necessary. And—”

  “Of course,” she interrupted. “Thank you, Grayson, for this and everything else.”

  He was surprised when Savannah stood and moved to put her arms around him. “Hey,” she said. “You have a cot over there.” She gestured toward that part of the room. “Wouldn’t you like to enjoy this new person? I’d like to see what it’s like to make love in this new persona of mine.”

  Grayson laughed. “I liked your previous self, too, but I’m always interested in variety.” Not exactly true—he liked her in every incarnation—but that fit the moment. He stood, too, and took her into his arms.

  Their kiss was long and hot—like the others they had shared when she was just Savannah. Not just Savannah. She was a lovely person, no matter what her face looked like, no matter how she held her body.

  Savannah eventually pulled back and looked up at him. Despite the bit of makeup she had used so far, her eyes remained the sharp, sweet, sexy green he had come to know. “So what do you think about this new me?”

  “I still have a lot to learn about you,” he said and, taking her hand, led her to that cot she had pointed to.

  * * *

  A while later, Savannah wriggled her naked body against Grayson’s, feeling his waning hardness, feeling his heat. They were quite close together, since the cot wasn’t very large, but they hadn’t needed a lot of room.

  He wriggled back and pulled her closer, his arms still around her body.

  Who knew? Before the events of the last few days, she wouldn’t have imagined herself making love so soon after her divorce, if ever again. And with a man she hardly knew? Grayson was not one of the men she would have anticipated getting physical with. Though he and his family had money, she believed he had only appeared occasionally at her social functions. He, unlike Zane, hadn’t seemed to be excited about appearing in public at events held for the town’s elite. But who cared?

  He was a first responder, and he definitely had responded to her in many ways.

  “So,” he said to her. “That was a first for my bunker, and it certainly was memorable.”

  “Good. I’m glad to have helped you make history here.” But her mind was zooming. “Even so, there’s still some daylight outside, or at least I think so. None apparently penetrates this place.”

  “Nope. But are you suggesting you’re already prepared to get out there and test your disguise, like you mentioned before?”

  “I am, but—”

  He read her mind. Or maybe it was obvious. “But do I think it’s time, and do I think you look different enough to give that a try? Yes, I do, if we’re careful. And we will be. Both of us.”

  “That’s good.” There wasn’t much she could say to that except, “I agree. And believe you, Grayson. Thank you so much for everything.”

  He again pulled her close, and she loved how her body reacted to his naked presence, from her nipples to the warmth of her most sensual parts below.

  Well, heck. It was late in the day. She figured waiting till tomorrow to start checking on Zane would be the better plan.

  Plus, this way she could practice putting on her disguise again in the morning.

  Tonight she could attempt to seduce Grayson again.

  And so she did.

  Chapter 17

  This had to work and provide her with the information and optimism she needed, Savannah hoped the next morning as she again slid into the back seat of Grayson’s car, being careful not to rub her glasses along the surface as she lay down. If all went well, if she had done a good job with her makeup and clothing and all and looked as different as she hoped, she might be able to go out in public and learn all she needed to fix her life now and prove she was innocent of all accusations against her.

  If not...well, she didn’t want to think about that.

  She did want to think about last night, though. It had been wonderful spending it in the small bed with Grayson, even between their fantastic bouts of sex. Grayson had been fine with hanging out with her that way. In fact, he had seemed happy about waiting until they had a whole new day before beginning their latest plan. They had eaten a brief breakfast of things he’d brought to the bunker, and Savannah had gotten into her disguise once more before they left.

  Grayson hadn’t initially mentioned it, but he had also bought her two pairs of glasses—one, sunglasses, and the other, regular glasses with a dark, wide frame but with no prescription

  She had checked out her appearance again before coming out to the car. Grayson’s bunker also had a large mirror in its bathroom, and thanks to the lantern in there, she was able to see herself well enough to confirm that she looked quite different from the usual Savannah Oliver.

  Which wasn’t her name right now, nor was Savannah Murphy. She’d chosen a new name out of thin air in case she wound up talking to someone and needed to identify herself: Chloe Michaels.

  Savannah had done a quick search on her phone for the name and saw quite a few faces come up, which was a good thing. The more, the merrier. That way, she was unlikely to be confused with any other person, or so she hoped.

  It was time to get started. That hopefully would include sneaking into Zane’s house and looking for...well, whatever she could find that might tell her who her ex recently communicated with, and how and what they’d said. She at least had some ideas about what types of high-tech gadgets he had used.

  Fortunately, she knew more than he’d realized

  Those he talked to could, and probably would, involve at least Schuyler and, most likely, Ian.

  If so—well, she could hope there was enough there to turn over to the police as evidence of her own innocence. Would anything show that Zane wasn’t in as excellent financial condition as he’d let on to the world? Would there be any evidence of plane tickets he had booked or hotel reservations he had made?

  Savannah had already informed Grayson about what she intended to seek, and he sounded happy to help. Grayson had started driving. “Are you okay back there?”

  “I sure am,” she responded.

  They had already discussed where they would go first. Savannah had an urge to visit one of the stores she had once frequented, where she hoped the sales staff and patrons wouldn’t recognize her.

  Grayson had talked her out of that. “Let’s start small,” he said, convincing her to go to a convenience store she sometimes visited for things she needed at the last minute, where maybe someone could recognize her usual appearance but they didn’t know her well.

  Savannah had agreed to do things Grayson’s way. After all, he was the first responder. He knew a lot more about police investigations.

  Besides, if all went well at the convenience store, they could follow it up by doing things Savannah’s way—

  Before she did as she intended, whether Grayson agreed to it or not. She would sneak into Zane’s house, her former home, and do the search she had been thinking about, which could help her get out of this mess. Maybe. At least she had a plan that shouldn’t call attention to someone entering the house.

  As they had discussed, Grayson pulled into a parking structure at the edge of town, on one of the middle levels. He got out first without locking the door.

  Savannah—Chloe—had her burner phone with her, sound turn
ed off. About five minutes after Grayson left, he called her, and her phone vibrated. “I’m at the stairway and don’t see anyone else around,” he said. “You can get out now.”

  She stuck the cap Grayson had given her over her head above the glasses. She also pulled on a bulky, old-looking jacket he’d given her over her T-shirt. Keeping her phone in her pocket with her hand over it, in case she needed to yank it out and call Grayson again, she did her best to sneak out of the car from her prone position on the back seat. They had decided she could take the elevator downstairs—her first experiment with being seen and, possibly, recognized.

  Which she wasn’t. A woman rode with her in the elevator, and she didn’t seem to know, or pay any attention, to Savannah.

  Step number one—a success!

  The convenience store that was Savannah’s target was a couple of blocks away, and she headed there at a good, strong pace without, she hoped, appearing too fast or too slow. In a few minutes, she arrived and pulled open the glass door at the front.

  The first person she saw was Grayson. They ignored each other. But Savannah liked the way he looked. Today he had on a long-sleeved blue T-shirt he must have kept at the bunker.

  Savannah walked around and picked up supplies like water, wheat bread and cheese slices. Normal stuff. Nothing to call attention to her. Grayson had given her cash to pay for it, which she did.

  “Did you find everything you were looking for, ma’am?” the young guy at the checkout stand asked. He looked familiar and looked at her as he spoke but didn’t react in any way.

  “Yes, thanks.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking. The kid was just being polite by talking to her, as sales clerks were supposed to do. If she remained cool and just acted like a regular patron, everything should be fine.

  “Good.” He handed her the plastic bag containing her purchases, and some change. “Have a nice day.”

  “You, too.”