He scrolled a bit further through the pictures before closing the file. “Well, that appears to be what it claims, so we’ll save the walk down memory lane for later.”
She stood and stretched her back. “Surely there is something else I can be doing to help besides hovering over your shoulder.”
He spun his chair to face her, the lines bracketing his deep blue eyes giving a clue to his own fatigue. “Truthfully, Pen, I think the best thing for you is to try to get some sleep. We’ll have plenty of time tomorrow to search files and read documents.”
“Does that mean you’re going to bed soon, too? Because I don’t want to be pushed aside on this. He is my father. I was shot at today, too. And Andrew was my husband. If my dad had anything to do with Andrew’s death, if there’s any connection to what happened to us today...” She squared her shoulders, firming her resolve. “I have a right to be part of bringing him to justice.”
Chapter 11
Morning came early for Pen the next day. Nicholas woke before sunrise and, finding himself in an unfamiliar bed, called out for her rather than falling back asleep as he usually did. She hurried to reassure him before his cries woke Reid. After changing his diaper, she brought him into the twin bed she’d been sleeping in and cuddled him close. She tried to encourage him to fall back asleep, which he finally did about thirty minutes later. By then, she was wide-awake and her thoughts were spinning. Her body ached, especially her head, no doubt thanks to the knock it took when Reid shoved her out of the line of fire yesterday.
A quiver rolled through her, though she couldn’t say for sure if it was from the winter-morning chill in the room, the reminder of the shooting or the idea of being sequestered with Reid Colton. Probably a combination of the three.
Easing out from under her son’s sleepy embrace, she tiptoed to the bathroom, hoping to grab a shower before Nicholas woke again. But before she could start the spray warming, the scent of fresh brewed coffee found her and like a heat-seeking missile, she found herself staggering into the kitchen in search of the promised caffeine.
Reid was standing in the kitchen in a pair of sleep pants slung low on his hips. Only a pair of sleep pants. His feet were bare, as was his chest, and Penelope couldn’t say which intrigued and tantalized her more.
“There’s fresh coffee, if you want some,” he said without turning. Considering she hadn’t spoken, hadn’t made any significant noise in her bare feet, she wondered how he’d known she was there.
“And I bought three different kinds of cereal yesterday, along with a bag of powdered-sugar donuts and some fresh fruit.” He glanced over his shoulder then, and his gaze traveled the length of her in a manner that felt uncomfortably intimate.
Penelope tugged the edges of her cardigan together at her sternum and cleared the morning frog from her throat. “Coffee sound great. Thanks.”
“What will the tyke eat? I bought eggs, too. I could scramble one up for him.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Based on your steak experiment last night, I think I should do the cooking around here.” She paused when he grinned, then slugged him in the arm. “You rat! That was your plan. Convince me you suck at cooking so I do all of it?”
The taut muscles and warm skin she encountered with her play-punch didn’t escape her notice. She tucked her hands under her armpits, pretending to be miffed, but using the time to tamp down the tingle in her fist that spread to her belly.
He choked on a sip of his coffee. “What? No!” He laughed as he shook his head. “I swear I would not waste good beef that way. If I wanted you to do all the cooking, I’d just say, ‘Pen, I don’t know squat about the kitchen. If you want edible food, you should do all the cooking.’”
She narrowed her eyes and gave a mock growl. “Eggs are easy. I’ll teach you. As for Nicholas, he’ll be thrilled with some dry cereal he can snack on from a cup.”
“In that case, what do you say we get busy going through files?” He carried his coffee into the next room where he’d already logged on to his laptop.
Cradling her own mug of joe between her hands, she scooted a chair up next to his desk chair to read over his shoulder. “A second computer would be nice. We could go through this stuff twice as quickly.”
“I can probably arrange that later today. Borrow one from the ranch or just buy a new one.”
She blinked and gave him a slack-jawed look. “Just...buy a new one.” She gave a soft scoffing laugh. “You really don’t have any idea how it sounds to ordinary people when you say things like that.”
He gave her a what-the-heck side glance as he tapped the keyboard pulling up folders to search. “What are you talking about?”
“I bet you pay retail price without blinking.”
He stopped working and gave her his attention now.
“As a Colton, you’ve never had to worry about where the money will come from for any purchase. That’s not something you should take for granted. It is a blessing and something most people never experience.”
For long seconds he only stared at her, his dark blue eyes searching hers, his brow beetled in thought. “You’re right. I am blessed. I’ve spent most of the last eighteen months feeling bitter because I left my job, felt persecuted, had no one special in my life the way Zane and T.C. and the rest have. I’ve been pretty focused on the negatives, and haven’t given much thought to all I do have.”
“Believe me, I know how easy it is to get caught up in your losses and forget your haves. But when I focus on Nicholas, it’s hard to stay negative. He’s a gift. I have him, my health and a house that’s paid for thanks to Andrew’s life insurance.”
Reid dragged a hand over his mouth and gave her a gentle smile that speared her heart. “You are something else, you know that?”
She dismissed his compliment with a shrug. “I’m no guru. I’m just muddling through life like everyone else.”
He reached for her cheek and her pulse skipped a beat. A tremble raced through her as his thumb traced the curve of her chin. “You keep me on my toes, though. Even when Andrew was alive you had a way of hitting me with reality checks when I needed one.”
She was too aware of his touch, too affected by the glide of his skin against hers. Catching enough breath in her lungs to speak without squeaking took effort. “Someone has to keep your head from getting too big.”
Her attempt at levity did little to dispel the toe-curling familiarity of the moment. Intimacy was not supposed to be on her radar. Especially with Reid Colton. She gave her head a brisk shake, effectively ending the moment and stood to pace.
She had precious little time before Nicholas would wake again, and she wanted to use it helping Reid with the gigantic search ahead of them.
Spying the backpack he’d had with him at her father’s house, she remembered seeing Reid slip a file from the desk under his shirt and then later into his backpack. She crossed the room and hoisted the pack to a chair. “What about the paper file you recovered? I could start there. Maybe there’s—”
Reid’s head whipped around. “Pen, stop! Leave that alone!”
Startled, she raised her hands, letting the backpack slump. “What?”
His chair scraped the floor as he shoved it back and hurried to snatch his pack away from her. “I just...don’t want you going through my stuff.”
She lifted one eyebrow in pique. “Says the man who searched the office of my childhood home and is currently invading my father’s private files.”
His mouth tightened and he tossed the backpack aside. “This is different.”
Peeved by his hypocrisy, she folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side. “Oh? How, exactly?”
Reid rubbed his hands on the seat of his jeans. “That file is not related to the case. It’s something personal.”
She furrowed her brow. Personal
for Reid? In her father’s office? “Uh...about your father?”
He twisted his lips, clearly deliberating, weighing his words. “No, not my father.”
When she opened her mouth to question him further, he added, “Look, yesterday I asked you to trust me. I need that trust to cover all things. Not just concerning your safety, but also in my handling of this case.” He stepped closer, taking each of her elbows in his hands. His voice dipped to a rumbling whisper that made her vibrate to her core, like plucked strings on a guitar. “I know what I’m doing, and I have your best interests at heart.”
Oh, hell, she thought as she met his intense blue gaze. The intimacy was back, rattling her nerves, stirring a thrum in her blood and muddling her train of thought.
“If you’ll just be patient, I’ll explain everything...eventually. I just need time to sort out everything that’s coming to light.”
Trust Reid Colton? There was that imperative again. One she would have scoffed at in anger even two days ago. But yesterday she’d had no choice but to put her life in his hands. Trusting him had seemed practical, prudent.
But now he was keeping secrets from her, asking her to believe in him, even as he hid information.
Her heart hammered her ribs like a fist beating a wall in frustration. She knew she didn’t have to trust him. She knew where he had put the keys to her Explorer. She could just put Nicholas in the car and drive home whenever she wanted. She could march across the room now, snatch up that backpack and fight him for a look at the file he was hiding.
Part of her wanted to do just that. But after everything that had happened yesterday, after learning all the secrets and lies her father had told her, something deep down inside her wanted to trust Reid. Needed to trust him. Needed an anchor to cling to in the midst of these turbulent and disturbing revelations about her family.
And his family. She had to remember that. Reid had a stake in all this. He’d been set up as the fall guy in Andrew’s death. His father was missing, presumed dead, and her father had taken untold millions from the Coltons through deceit and malpractice.
She would offer him the benefit of the doubt. She would allow him some leeway, give him more time. She would trust him. And not because she had to.
Because she wanted to.
She gave him a small nod, and the tension in his face melted away.
“Thank you.” He reached for her cheek again, as he had moments earlier, but this time, instead of pulling away, she closed her eyes and savored the contact. “I won’t let you down.”
She startled when his warm lips placed a feathery kiss on her forehead. She blinked, raising her chin to meet his eyes. This seduction he seemed bent on felt dangerous to her. Because she enjoyed his caresses, his nearness more than she should. Was her fascination with him simply a factor of her teenage crush? Was it misplaced gratitude for his heroism and kindness yesterday surrounding the shooting? If that were all it was, how did she explain the warmth and desire that simmered in his expression?
The tenderness in his gaze held her in thrall, until a whimper from the back room broke the spell.
“I need to get Nicholas.”
“Yeah,” he rasped and stepped back. When she returned, carrying her sleepy toddler on her hip a few moments later, Reid was back at the computer with his head down, working hard.
She fixed Nicholas a cup of Cheerios and settled him in front of Reid’s large-screen TV to watch a children’s DVD that he’d bought the night before.
As with every time she used a screen to entertain her son, she experienced a pang of mommy guilt. But she needed something to keep Nicholas occupied while she and Reid worked.
“Holy cow!” Reid said, his tone saying he’d have used a much darker expression of amazement if not for Nicholas’s impressionable ears. “Pen, come take a look at this.”
She crossed the room and studied the screen over his shoulder. Reid was scrolling through a list of URLs. “What is that?”
“Your father’s internet history for the last few weeks.”
A rock of dread settled in her stomach, and she gripped the back of his chair to brace herself. “Tell me.”
He rolled the cursor and clicked a link, bringing up a web page titled, “How to Stage Your Own Death.” The next website he opened was a discussion of autopsies, primarily on burned bodies. What little breakfast she’d had curdled in her stomach at the sight of the charred human remains. With a gasp, Pen averted her gaze. “What else?”
“More of the same. It appears he was researching how to fake a murder and pass off a burned body as the victim.” He angled his head to look up at her, his jaw rigid. “I think we now know who paid off the medical examiner last month to lie about the identity of that burned corpse they found.”
“So m-my father killed your father? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not exactly. But he certainly wanted us to believe my father was dead. I told you, didn’t I, that my father’s will gives Hugh controlling interest in Colton Incorporated?”
“Seriously? Why would your father leave my dad—”
“I’m not at all sure he did. If your dad went to such lengths to fake Eldridge’s death, he could certainly have faked the will, as well. He had the only copy of Eldridge’s will anyone knows about.”
Pen’s mouth gaped open. “The only copy? That’s...insane. That’s—”
“One more reason I doubt the veracity of the document.” Reid turned back to the screen and clicked another link.
Pen paced a short open space between the couch where Nicholas slouched watching TV and the desk where Reid continued working. Her restless pace meant her coffee sloshed onto her hand, and she lifted her fingers to suck clean the drips. “Give me something to do, Reid. I’ll go stir-crazy just sitting around here with all this hanging over our heads. I need to keep busy. For sanity if nothing else.”
He eyed her for a minute, chewing the inside of his cheek as he thought. “Okay.” Leaning forward, he pecked on the keyboard a bit, then tapped a final key with a flourish. Across the room a printer sprang to life, beeping and chugging as pages started spitting out.
The device’s activity caught Nicholas’s attention and her curious toddler slid off the sofa and trotted over to grab at the pages feeding out to the tray.
“Is it?” Nicholas asked in his toddler way of wanting to know what something was.
She hurried over to pry the pages from his sticky hands. “That’s not for you, Nicholas.”
“Mine!” His chubby hands reached for the sheets, opening and closing in “gimme” fashion.
“No. Mommy’s.” She took a blank sheet from the paper tray and handed it to him. “Here’s yours.”
Satisfied to have something to crumple, Nicholas carried the sheet back to the sofa and started shredding the blank page.
Pen faced Reid with a shake of her head. “Distraction. A key technique for handling toddlers.”
“Good to know.” He aimed a finger at the papers when she tried to hand them to him. “Those are for you. Look through those. See if anything stands out.”
“Such as?”
“Duplicate billing. Numbers that don’t add up in some way. Clients that don’t quite seem legit somehow.”
“Like this guy.” She waved the top page at him. “He’s billed for his services to Mr. George P. Burdell of Atlanta, Georgia.”
Reid frowned. “Why is that suspicious? He could have clients out of town.”
She scoffed. “Sure, he could. But George P. Burdell is the name of a fake student at Georgia Tech. Campus tradition and joke since...like the 1930s or before.”
Reid arched a sandy eyebrow. “How do you know about him?”
“While I was a student at Agnes Scott College, I dated a guy who went to Georgia Tech. He told me about the student pranks and hist
ory of the gag. On one of my visits home for the holidays, I must have told my dad about it.”
Reid snorted a laugh. “Gotcha. Good catch. So be on the lookout for other John and Jane Doe types. Pull the ones that seem suspicious.”
Task assigned, Pen moved to the sofa, and Nicholas climbed in her lap to cuddle as he nibbled his cereal. She set the stack of pages on the seat beside her to flip through with one hand while she snuggled her son with the other.
“Hoss?” Nicholas said after a moment.
“What, honey?”
Her son wiggled down and patted the stone horse statue on the coffee table. “Hossie?”
She grinned at her toddler, marveling at his growing vocabulary. “Yes, that’s a horse. Good boy.”
He stroked a hand down the stone horse’s flank and said, “Good hossie.” Then juggled his cup of Cheerios as he crawled back onto the couch beside her. “My hoss.”
Having mastered multitasking months ago—like most mothers—Pen skimmed sheet after sheet of text, stroked her boy’s silky hair, and ruminated on all she’d learned in the past two days.
A gnawing started in her gut and grew as she paged through the documents Reid had printed out. A bill to a client for $500,000 to probate a simple will. Another bill to a client named Bob Smith. The name was such a common one...and yet wouldn’t the most mundane and common names pass most easily under the radar?
Her uneasiness churned harder. Finally, after thirty minutes of stewing and sorting paperwork, questioning everything she thumbed through as potential proof of her father’s dishonesty, she leaned her head back on the couch and heaved a sigh. “I want a meeting.”
“Hmm?” Reid hummed distractedly.
“I want to go see my father. In person.”
“No.”
“Reid, I can’t let this go!”
“No!”
She resettled Nicholas from her lap to the sofa cushions, and grabbed up her stacks of papers as she pushed to her feet. “He knows we were at his house yesterday. If I hide from that, we look guilty. I want to go see him, look him in the eyes and—”
Colton Christmas Protector Page 12
