Colton Baby Conspiracy (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 1)

by Marie Ferrarella

  “I’ll take over, Marlowe,” Callum offered quietly, drawing their mother away from his twin and over toward him.

  “Does anyone have any idea who did this?” Marlowe asked, looking around at her siblings to see if any of them could give her more information.

  Murmured voices blended together in what seemed like non-answers. And then Ace’s voice rose above the rest. “The police said they were checking the security footage to see if it caught anyone in the vicinity of Dad’s office,” he told her. “But so far, all they know was that Dad was shot twice in the chest.”

  “That’s either revenge or the killer was a damn poor shot,” Rafe said.

  Marlowe closed her eyes. “Oh Lord, I thought once Bowie caught that disgusting stalker, everything was going to start going back to normal. But this is just too awful,” she declared, her eyes filling up with tears again.

  She felt strong arms going around her shoulders and knew that Bowie was trying his best to comfort her, literally offering her a shoulder to cry on.

  Marlowe struggled to pull herself together, but for now, she just let him hold her and did her best to rally for her mother’s sake, if not for her own.

  * * *

  Bowie remained with Marlowe and her family until Payne’s surgeon, Dr. Jonathan Bohan, came out to tell them that the operation had been successful. The bullet had not hit any vital organs. Currently, he was in the recovery room.

  “When can we see him and talk to him?” Ace asked.

  “You can see him in an hour once they bring him to his room. Talking to him, however, is going to be another matter,” Dr. Bohan told them.

  Instantly suspicious, Ainsley asked, “Why do you say that?”

  “Because,” the doctor said heavily as he delivered the news, “Mr. Colton slipped into a coma.”

  “A coma?” Rafe questioned. “How long is that going to last?” he demanded. “When’s our father going to wake up?”

  “I’m afraid that is anyone’s guess,” the surgeon said. “It could be in the morning, could be in a few weeks.”

  Ace looked up sharply, disturbed by what he was hearing. “Or it could last forever?” he questioned.

  “It could,” the surgeon agreed matter-of-factly.

  “In other words, anything is possible,” Marlowe said, hating to even entertain that idea, but it seemed that was what they were being told.

  The surgeon exhaled heavily. “I’m afraid so,” Bohan answered.

  “But he could wake up tomorrow,” Bowie hypothesized, speaking up for Marlowe’s benefit in order to give her something to hang on to.

  Bohan nodded his head. “We can only hope that,” the surgeon told the family members.

  Somberness gripped the Coltons even tighter.

  * * *

  Bowie remained with Marlowe for a few more hours, doing what he could to bolster her morale. He congratulated himself on achieving moderate success with his efforts.

  When Marlowe appeared to be doing a little better, he decided that he could leave her for a while in order to take care of something that had been preying on his mind. Watching this drama unfold before him the way that it had, having something so traumatic happening without any warning, convinced Bowie that he needed to square things with his own father.

  This had shown him that there weren’t endless opportunities in which to take care of things, to square them away and make them right. There was only now. Tomorrow might never come.

  Time was mercurial and fleeting.

  He almost hated to disturb her, but he knew he’d never forgive himself if he let this matter go and something happened to his father the way it just had to hers.

  Leaning over toward Marlowe as they all sat in the waiting area, Bowie whispered in her ear, “You’ll be okay for a while if I run an errand?”

  Marlowe was touched that he actually cared enough about her to ask if he could leave her side for a while. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. And then, because she wasn’t sure if he was going to leave permanently, she asked, “You’re coming back here?”

  On his knees if he had to, Bowie thought. But he didn’t want to crowd her at a time like this. “Unless you don’t want me to,” he qualified.

  She hesitated, wanting to tell him that she didn’t need him to stay with her, that she could get through this on her own. But then she thought, Who was she kidding? “Come back,” she told him.

  Bowie knew that took a lot for Marlowe to say. It was, in effect, exposing herself. “As fast as I can,” he promised. “Call me if you need me to come back faster than that,” he added, concerned.

  “Go do whatever you have to do,” she told him, sending him on his way.

  * * *

  The drive back to the Robertson Renewable Energy Company offices went by both quickly and slowly. Quickly because it was over before he was even aware of the trip taking place, and slowly because he kept reviewing and rehearsing what he was going to say to his father once he got him alone.

  None of the words sounded right to him, but they were all he had.

  And then he was there, and there was no more time to rehearse.

  “Is he in?” Bowie asked Jeannie, his father’s administrative assistant, as he quickly walked past the woman’s desk.

  “Yes, but he’s on his way out,” she warned, calling after him as she half rose from her desk.

  “He’s always on his way out to somewhere,” Bowie answered. Reaching his father’s office, he knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for Franklin to give him permission to enter.

  His father was in the middle of packing his briefcase and he looked up, surprised. “Didn’t think I’d see you today,” Franklin commented. It was clear that his father was preoccupied and wasn’t about to remain.

  Crossing to his father’s desk, Bowie put his hand on top of the papers, causing his father to stop putting the papers into the case.

  His father looked at him quizzically.

  “Dad, we need to talk,” Bowie told him.

  “Sure,” Franklin’s tone was carelessly dismissive. “When I get back.”

  “No, Dad. Now,” Bowie insisted.

  Stunned, Franklin looked his son. “What’s this about, Bowie?”

  “About a few years overdue,” Bowie told his father quite honestly. He could see that his father didn’t understand. He tried a different tact. “I want you to hear this from me, Dad.”

  “Hear what?” Franklin asked impatiently.

  “You’re going to be a grandfather,” Bowie told him.

  Several emotions seemed to sweep over the older Robertson’s face. And then he said, “Well, I suppose you were bound to slip up sooner or later. Will the woman listen to reason?” he asked.

  He knew that his father meant, Could she be bought off? He contained his temper. “I’m going to marry her, Dad,” Bowie said.

  Franklin’s eyes opened wide. “Oh?”

  Bowie couldn’t quite read the expression on his father’s face, but he pushed on. “It’s Marlowe Colton.”

  “What?” Franklin shouted, stunned. “Payne Colton’s daughter?” His face was red now. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “That Marlowe Colton is the woman I’ve been looking for all my life,” Bowie answered simply.

  “That’s a bunch of horse manure!” Franklin declared. “You can’t be serious,” he insisted.

  “Actually, Dad, I am very serious,” Bowie told him. “So serious that I’m willing to walk away from the company I love and believe in because my priorities have totally changed. I intend to be the husband and father that Marlowe and this baby both deserve and are entitled to, and I’m not about to allow anything to get in the way of that.”

  Franklin stared at his son in disbelief. “You really mean that?”

  “Yes, I do,” Bowie told him. “I know I
don’t have an example to follow, but that wasn’t your fault,” he added quickly, absolving his father of any blame for being absent for all those years. “You were busy building the company for the family. However, I fully intend to be a good father and husband to the best of my ability. I’m sorry to be so blunt, and if I hurt you, Dad, I don’t mean to, but—”

  “No, you didn’t hurt me, Bowie,” his father was quick to assure him. And then he took him totally by surprise by adding, “I only wish that I had been half the man that you are. And, if you want to marry her, you have my blessings, Bowie. But please, don’t leave the company,” Franklin implored. “I need you, and I can’t do this without you. RoCo needs you,” he emphasized. “Stay. Whatever else you want to do is fine with me. I won’t stand in your way, but please, stay.”

  Bowie hadn’t expect this, not in a million years. He grinned at his father, relieved beyond belief. “I will, Dad.”

  “And tell the Colton girl she’s a lucky woman,” Franklin said, calling after his son as Bowie left his office.

  Bowie knew his father meant that sincerely.

  “I will. But I’m the one who’s lucky, Dad,” he said by way of parting.

  * * *

  Bowie found Marlowe just where he’d left her, still at the hospital, sitting in the waiting room. He came up behind her and gave her a quick hug.

  Surprised, Marlowe turned around to look at him. “You came back,” she said, smiling at him.

  “I said I would.” Rafe made room for him and Bowie sat down next to her. “How’s your father doing?” he asked.

  Marlowe smiled bravely. “The same, but at least he’s still breathing. Get your errand taken care of?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

  “Yes, I had to clear up something with my father,” he confessed.

  He hadn’t mentioned that. “Your father?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “I wanted to tell him that he was going to be a grandfather. And that I wanted to marry you,” he added, his eyes now searching her face for a sign that he hadn’t frightened her off. “If you’ll have me.”

  She looked at him, stunned and almost speechless. “Wait, back up,” she cried. “What?” She was certain she was hearing things.

  “I said I want to marry you and be a father to our baby,” he repeated as if it was an everyday occurrence.

  The words still weren’t sinking in for her. This was Bowie, the commitmentphobe. Was he actually saying what she thought she was hearing? It didn’t seem possible.

  “Seriously? You want to settle down? You, Mr. I Want To Be Free, is talking about putting down roots?” she asked incredulously.

  “Suddenly being free isn’t all that appealing anymore,” he told her. “So, what do you say?”

  Did he think she needed help? Was that why he was saying this? “This is the twenty-first century. Women don’t need to get married to have a baby.”

  “I know that,” he told her, “but I need to marry you.”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”

  He laughed and shook his head. Leave it to her to over-examine this. “Because I love you, Marlowe Colton, despite that sunny, easygoing personality of yours.”

  She started to laugh then. “Good answer,” she said to him, beaming with approval.

  “How about you?” he asked. “Do you love me?”

  “I guess I could put up with you for a while.” And then she laughed again, throwing her arms around his neck. “Yes, I love you, you big idiot.”

  He considered her response. “Not the most romantic answer,” he decided, “but I guess it’ll do.” She finally realized that Bowie was a man of his word—he wouldn’t leave, and they were going to be a family together.

  “Well, it’ll have to,” she informed him just before she kissed him long and hard, with all the feeling she had been trying so hard to bury.

  Bowie was not about to disagree.

  Epilogue

  Wrapping her fingers around Bowie’s hand, Marlowe crossed over to where her mother was sitting in the waiting area with Callum.

  “Mother,” she spoke up, getting her mother’s attention, “I know this is a very difficult time for all of us right now, but I have an announcement to make.” Marlowe’s eyes swept over the members of her family. All of them were still determined to keep vigil over her father for as long as they were able—or until such time as Payne Colton regained his consciousness and recovered.

  “Now, Marlowe?” her mother questioned. It was hard to tell what Genevieve was thinking as the woman looked at Bowie intently.

  Marlowe smiled at her mother. “I thought this might provide a little shelter in this storm we’re enduring.” At least that was her hope. “Bowie just asked me to marry him—” she glanced at Bowie “—and I said yes.”

  For a moment, the silence in the room was almost deafening, and then Callum rose to his feet and clapped Bowie on the back by way of congratulations.

  “Well, it’s about time!” her twin declared, moving on to Marlowe. He gave his sister a bear hug. Looking over toward their grim-faced mother, Callum said, “This is a good thing, Mother.”

  “I know,” she replied. “I realize that. I just wish that this news came at a better time,” she told her children sadly.

  “It’ll be better soon,” Rafe promised, squeezing the older woman’s hand before he moved on to shake Bowie’s and hug Marlowe. “Congratulations,” he whispered into Marlowe’s ear, genuinely pleased for her.

  Ace was just adding his own voice to the congratulations when Marlowe, facing the doorway, stiffened slightly. She saw a tall, slender woman entering the room where they were all gathered.

  Marlowe had a bad feeling.

  “Can I help you?” Bowie asked, stepping forward. This was not the time to bother Marlowe’s family, he thought, acting as a buffer. He had noticed the uncomfortable look on Rafe’s face when he saw the woman walking in.

  The redhead walked over toward Bowie. “I’m Detective Kerry Wilder,” she said, introducing herself. Next to her, Rafe noticeably stiffened. Marlowe wondered why.

  Marlowe instantly reacted. “Do you have any information to tell us about my father?” she asked eagerly.

  “No, not yet, I’m afraid. We’re still looking into all the possibilities.” She turned toward the men in the waiting area. “Which one of you is Ace Colton?” she asked.

  Ace stepped forward, moving around Grayson. “I am,” he told the detective.

  She nodded, as if she already knew which of the men he was but wanted to see if he would volunteer the information.

  “Would you come with me, please?” she requested.

  “Where are you taking him?” Grayson asked, clearly ready to protect his older brother. Like Marlowe, he had never stopped thinking of Ace as that, no matter what his father had said about switched babies.

  “To the police station,” Kerry answered. “There are some questions that need clearing up.”

  It was apparently all that the detective was willing to say at this time. Putting her hand on Ace’s arm, she began to usher him out of the room, leaving the others to exchange looks and wonder what was going on.

  “Are you arresting him?” Ainsley asked.

  But the detective didn’t answer. That left everyone wondering: Did Ace shoot his father? Was this what Ace had meant when he’d told the older man that he would be sorry for having thrown him off the board?

  Marlowe refused to entertain that thought, but it certainly looked that way.

  She was determined to find out as soon as possible for everyone’s sake—most of all for Ace’s, even as she looked forward to her own future with Bowie and their child.

  * * *

  Don’t miss book two in

  The Coltons of Mustang Valley series,

  Colton’s Lethal Reunion by Tara Taylor Quinn
r />   Available now wherever

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense books are sold.

  And check out book three—

  Colton Family Bodyguard by Jennifer Morey—

  and book four—

  Colton First Responder by Linda O. Johnston—

  Both available in February 2020!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Colton’s Lethal Reunion by Tara Taylor Quinn.

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  Colton’s Lethal Reunion

  by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Chapter 1

  He had to see her. This wasn’t news. Rafe Colton had known for years that he owed Kerry Wilder an explanation for the way he’d cut out on her—on them—abandoning her and their budding love with no warning. Leaving her to face life alone after they’d been friends, best friends, even secret friends, since they’d been old enough to walk and talk.

  For years he’d known. And for years, he’d been avoiding her.

  For so many reasons. Not the least of which was that he suspected, maybe even feared, that he was still in love with her. He couldn’t be, of course. There was no way the pubescent feelings of youth would carry unrequited into adulthood. And certainly wouldn’t still be incubating in a grown man of thirty-six.

  And yet, he’d procrastinated. Which made him not real fond of himself—deep down in the places he rarely visited, at least.