His Forgotten Colton Fiancée
Page 1
“I’m engaged to you?”
A Coltons of Red Ridge story
When Quinn Colton is injured in an explosion, undercover FBI agent West Brand is devastated. Not only is she unable to recognize him, her secret fiancé, but everything the two of them hold dear is in danger. Together, they investigate the incident that caused her amnesia and track a killer. But can West convince Quinn that their happily-ever-after is still on the horizon?
“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.” Maybe using his secret nickname for her would trigger a smile. “How are you feeling?”
Her hand went to the large bandage on her head. “It hurts.”
“I know. Must ache something awful. But it will get better.” He squatted down to eye level with her. “You’re going to be fine. Up to kissing speed in no time.”
And then West’s heart dropped to his stomach as she stared at him with no glimmer of recognition. “Who are you?”
West’s stomach knotted. The woman he adored and loved had no idea who he was. No memory of first meeting him. No memory of the laughs they’d shared, the stolen moments of togetherness, the lovemaking...
The fact she’d agreed to be his wife.
He was a total stranger to Quinn Colton.
* * *
The Coltons of Red Ridge:
A killer’s on the loose and love is on the line
* * *
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Dear Reader,
What would you do if you finally found the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, only to lose all memory of him?
This is the nightmare that happens to Quinn Colton, a strong woman who carves her own path. Until sexy FBI agent West Brand stormed into her life, Quinn didn’t think she would marry.
Quinn has agreed to a secret engagement to West. And then one fateful day, her world is shattered and she loses all her precious memories, including those of the man she loves the most. West doesn’t know how to heal her amnesia. All he knows is that he will do everything to protect her from the person who wants Quinn dead.
Quinn and West’s book was fascinating to write because Quinn is a caterer. Me? My mom used to joke that I could burn water. At the first meal I prepared for my family, they called for the fire department to extinguish their burning mouths because I’d dumped too much ginger on the appetizer.
I hope you enjoy Quinn and West’s journey. May all your memories, recipes for joy and, most of all, the love in your life live on.
Happy reading.
Bonnie Vanak
HIS FORGOTTEN COLTON FIANCÉE
Bonnie Vanak
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Bonnie Vanak is passionate about romance novels and telling stories. A former newspaper reporter, she worked as a journalist for a large international charity for several years, traveling to countries such as Haiti to report on the sufferings of the poor. Bonnie lives in Florida with her husband, Frank, and is a member of Romance Writers of America. She loves to hear from readers. She can be reached through her website, bonnievanak.com.
Books by Bonnie Vanak
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
The Coltons of Red Ridge
His Forgotten Colton Fiancée
SOS Agency
Navy SEAL Seduction
Shielded by the Cowboy SEAL
Navy SEAL Protector
Harlequin Nocturne
Phoenix Force
The Shadow Wolf
The Covert Wolf
Phantom Wolf
Demon Wolf
The Empath
Enemy Lover
Immortal Wolf
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
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In memory of Sissy. Love you. Miss you and your smile and your laughter.
Sissy’s Creole Chicken
Recipe by Glenna “Sissy” Fischer
3 ½ pounds of chicken
1 clove garlic
6 slices bacon
½ pound of ham, diced
2 small onions, chopped
2 cups drained canned tomatoes
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1/8 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
½ teaspoon thyme
2 teaspoons salt
2 cups boiling water
2 cups cooked sliced okra
Directions
Wash, clean chicken and cut into serving pieces. Rub skin side of each chicken piece with cut side of garlic clove. Place bacon in cold Dutch oven or a heavy frying pan and cook until crisp. Remove and crumble. Add the chicken to the Dutch oven or the pan, brown on all sides and then remove.
Add ham, onions, brown lightly. Then add the bacon, chicken, tomatoes, parsley, Tabasco sauce, thyme, salt and water.
Cover, reduce heat to low. Cook 30–60 minutes or until chicken is tender. Add the cooked okra the last ten minutes. Serves eight.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Excerpt from Reunion Under Fire by Geri Krotow
Chapter 1
Wedding cake and bombs.
Two thoughts sped through FBI agent West Brand’s mind as he jogged along the main street leading out of Red Ridge. Chocolate rum cake with vanilla frosting and swirls of delicate pink flowers. And bombs made out of materials as easy to find as cake.
The cake, he didn’t care about, but he wanted to make Quinn Colton happy. She was a real foodie and, as a caterer, weddings were her specialty. He’d be happy to eat a cake made from sprouts when they got married.
When they could risk a wedding. Red Ridge had a serial killer lurking, a psycho killing grooms right before their weddings. The MO was always the same: bullet through the heart, black cummerbund stuffed in the victim’s mouth. Several men had been murdered. And with the Groom Killer still out there, he and Quinn had decided to keep their newly engaged status quiet, along with their relationship.
For now, he had to focus on bombs. His cop instinct tingled, warning things were too damn quiet and the tension in the city was about to explode.
High-powered explosives were West’s specialty. He preferred to work alone and being on loan to the Red Ridge Police Department’s K-9 unit hadn’t changed his mind. West’s partner of choice ran on four legs.
Cool air washed over him as he ran, the darkness pierced by the green glow of his sport-utility watch. Rex, his black Labrador retriever, kept pace alongside him. West always took him on his daily jogs.
Breath fogging the air, he let his thoughts drift to the missing fifty-five-gallon drum of highly concentrated hydrogen peroxide from a chemical warehouse in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The owner had reported it missing two days ago.
Ev
en though there had been no other bombings reported in the area, all West’s instincts had gone full red flag.
Peroxide-based explosives presented a deadlier threat than ordinary C-4, which was much harder to obtain. Unstable chemical compounds brought the risk of blowing yourself up as you mixed and packed the ingredients, and quite possibly blowing up your unsuspecting neighbors, as well. Terrorists preferred the risk because they could easily purchase the ingredients without raising eyebrows or alerting the feds. Gone were the days when materials had to be smuggled past the eyes of authorities. These days, a kid could waltz into a grocery store and make a bomb with soda pop and nail polish remover.
The bad guys made it harder to do his job and keep people safe. So he kept learning and listening and reading, because long ago, he determined no one would ever die on his watch.
Not again, like when he was seventeen...
Don’t go there. Focus. Did a daydreaming clerk misplace the drum or did someone steal it to make a bomb?
Red Ridge wasn’t the type of town that saw the same kind of terrorist bombings as big cities. He’d bet that Dean Landon, the canine explosives specialist who was out on medical leave, had seldom seen many bombings in town. He was replacing Landon until the officer recovered from an injury and then it would be back to the city for him.
Maybe. Something else he had to discuss with his future wife.
He and Rex turned a corner down a dirt road toward the boarded-up building that once served as a hardware store. The store marked his three-mile turning point. As West started past the building and prepared to turn, Rex stopped.
The dog stared at the building.
“Whoa.” He jogged in place, frowning as he squinted at the building in the inky darkness. Dim light from the nearly full moon showed ghostly shadows, thick weeds and brush, and a rotting wood storefront with a few two-by-fours hammered over the windows.
The abandoned building sat on the edge of town, a scrubby cousin to the sleeker Main Street buildings with their shiny windows, trim doors and flower boxes. It fitted in with Rusty Colton’s nearby dive bar that reeked of stale beer, tobacco and dark thoughts.
He glanced down at Rex, the Labrador’s nose pointing at the storefront, his body tense and alert. Then the dog sat down.
West clenched his gut. Rex had found something. Specially trained to sniff out bombs, the dog sat when he smelled suspicious odors.
Though he’d worked with Rex for three months and spent each day training with him, he still remained wary. Maybe Rex saw something interesting. Or he smelled something fascinating, like a dead rodent.
“What is it?” he asked Rex.
The dog kept staring at the building.
Could be anything. Hell, even a ghost. Sure was eerie enough on this end of town, the sad, lonely building desolate and abandoned. Maybe a homeless person decided to camp there for the night and Rex sensed that.
The watch he wore on his right wrist insisted he had to get his butt back now into town in order to leave Quinn’s place before the nosy townspeople started opening their shops. Last thing he needed was a gossip prattling on about how the FBI canine agent on loan to the RRPD was seen sneaking out of Good Eats, Quinn Colton’s catering shop.
If he investigated, he’d be late. West swept his gaze over the building’s exterior as he squinted in the dark. Heart racing from the run, he looked again at Rex.
Still sitting. Still alert.
That was it. West reached for his gun tucked into a leather holster at his side and prepared to go closer.
A flash of movement in the darkness. He tensed as something rattled inside the building.
A scrawny black-and-white tabby cat squeezed underneath one of the boards on the window, looked at them. It hissed at Rex, and then sped off in the direction of town.
Still, it was best to check it out. West did a quick patrol around the building, saw and heard nothing. He glanced down at Rex, who whined, his tail beating the dirt.
“A cat.” West shook his head. “All that drama for a stray feline? C’mon, buddy. You disappoint me.”
Tongue lolling out, Rex grinned at him.
Sighing, West patted his head. “Let’s go.”
They jogged back to the main road as a cool wind blew, rattling the shutters of the abandoned building.
When he reached Quinn’s apartment above her store, he let himself in with his key. West poured Rex a bowl of fresh water and grabbed a bottle from the fridge, drinking deeply. The clock on the range read 5 a.m. If he hurried and showered here, he could make it to his truck, parked discreetly down the street, and drive out of town before Quinn’s assistant showed up to open shop.
Leaving Rex in the kitchen on the pillow Quinn placed there for him, West headed into the bathroom.
Steam misted the air as he emerged minutes later, a white towel wrapped around his waist. He padded to the bedside and stared down at a slumbering Quinn.
He was one lucky bastard. After thirty years, thinking he’d remain a bachelor for the rest of his life, he’d found the woman of his dreams. Last night he’d asked her to marry him, and she’d readily accepted.
West removed a single red rose from the crystal vase by the bedside. Last night he’d given her two dozen red roses to proclaim his feelings.
It was all so new and marvelous. And uncertain and out of character. He wasn’t impulsive. All he knew was that he adored Quinn, wanted to make her happy for the rest of her life and needed her like he’d never admit to needing anyone.
Not since his entire family had been killed had he allowed himself to be this open, this intimate with another person. He’d proposed because he was getting older and so was Quinn. He couldn’t bear for her to get snatched up by another man. He’d already lost too much in life, and wanted to spend each precious moment with her.
He only wished she didn’t want children so badly. Getting married to the woman of his dreams was one thing. Having kids was another. Being responsible to protect one life—Quinn’s—yeah, he could handle that. But making sure nothing bad would ever happen to children? After what had happened to his sisters, he had quietly vowed to avoid having children and risking that kind of heartache ever again.
He sat on the bed’s edge, gazing at his new fiancée, his heart racing with anticipation. Damn, she was so pretty when she slept. Even prettier when she awakened and gave him that sexy smile filled with promise, her brown eyes smudged with sleep and hard loving. West bent over and inhaled the smell of her: apple shampoo, delicate jasmine and the musk of sex.
Life was filled with the ugliness and violence of his job. Quinn made the brutality bearable, and eased the stress he bore. Coming home to her each day was definitely something he anticipated. Quinn made him laugh, lit up his life with her cheerful smile and saucy attitude. She was an eternal optimist who didn’t let anything get her down.
Not even me.
West stroked the rose petals over her freckled cheek and she stirred. He set the rose upon the pillow next to her.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he whispered as she slowly opened her eyes and smiled up at him. She ran a hand through her rumpled curls.
Quinn took the rose and inhaled the delicate fragrance. “A flower on my pillow. What a lovely way to wake up. But not as nice as waking up to see my handsome man.”
“You deserve a dozen fresh roses every day.” He took the flower and tapped her forehead with it. And more. Everything I could give you. I only wish I could give you the one thing we can’t have now—no more secrets.
As he replaced the rose in the vase, she sat up.
“You up to kissing speed yet?” he teased.
Quinn smiled. “Anytime with you, I am.”
She cupped his face, her fingers stroking his cheek. “You shaved off your beard.”
West rubbed his cheek against her playful caresses. “Makes i
t easier to get close to you, in all the right places.”
A delicate flush ignited her round cheeks at the intimate hint in his voice. “I like it. Did you have a good run?”
“Not as good as staying here. But I had to get away from you and think. When I’m here—” he traced the edges of her lush lower lip “—I tend to get distracted from my work.”
“What were you thinking about?” She yawned and stretched.
He admired how the motion lifted her breasts beneath the flannel T-shirt. “You.” West reached out and tugged one of her corkscrew curls. It bounced back. “And triacetone triperoxide.”
Quinn’s forehead wrinkled. “What? It sounds like something my father would take for a hangover.”
He laughed. “It’s a bomb, sweetheart. TATP. Favored by terrorists. They call it Mother of Satan because it’s so volatile to make and you risk blowing yourself up.”
“I can give you something much nicer to think about.” Her smile widened as she crooked a finger at him.
Forget the Mother of Satan. Here was pure heaven. Guilt flickered through him. Quinn didn’t know his real purpose in coming to Red Ridge—to find Demi Colton, the main suspect in the Groom Killer case, who’d fled town months ago right after being initially questioned. Or that he’d been assigned to investigate Quinn and her half brothers to see if they knew where their half sister, Demi, was hiding.
I’ll tell her. Soon.
And then her mouth met his and he forgot about all else.
* * *
Food costs and sex.
Quinn Colton tried hard, and failed, to keep the smile off her face as she bounced down the stairs leading to Good Eats, her catering shop. Sex with West was always fantastic, but this morning added a special, delicious urgency to their lovemaking. Certainly the sex was better than the inventory waiting for her downstairs, along with the stacks of bills for the latest restaurant order.
Thirty years old and in love. Never thought this would happen. Certainly not a whirlwind romance and a lifelong pledge in only three weeks. But her heart knew that West was the one meant for her. They were made for each other.