The Colton Bodyguard

by Carla Cassidy

  He studied her intently, admiring the gold flecks in her hazel-green eyes, the slight upthrust of her chin and the slight tension that emanated from her.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Greta, not unless you want me to go,” he replied. “This is my business. I made it my business when I took you to my bed, when I realized I care about your safety. My business runs fine without me and I don’t have much of a personal life to get back to. I’m here for you unless you tell me otherwise.”

  Her chin lowered and some of the tension dissipated. “There are plenty of men here at the ranch, including my brothers.” She turned to look at Sugar and propped her arms on top of the fence. “But to be honest with you, I do feel safer with you here.”

  She didn’t look at him again, but her words touched him. “I’ll be here until the danger has passed or until you ask me to leave. Or until your brother Jack kicks me out,” he added with a touch of humor. He moved next to her and put his arms on the top of the wooden fence.

  She gave him a quick smile. “Jack is a tough guy. He’s had to be as the oldest of the family and especially with everything that’s been going on around here and my father handing him the reins of the ranch.”

  “Daniel seemed especially nice,” he observed. “I’m interested in learning more about his breeding business.”

  “Daniel is the product of an affair my father had with a nanny while my mother was away on one of the convalescing trips. His mother was half-Cherokee and she died when he was ten, and Daniel came to live here with us. Although all of us kids loved the fact that we suddenly had another brother, my mother ignored him and he struggled for years to fit in here.”

  “He seems to be comfortable now,” Tyler said.

  “He’s as much a brother to me as Jack or Brett and I love his wife, Megan. In fact, I’m close to all my sisters-in-law. After growing up with five brothers, I love having females finally in the family.”

  “I wonder if I’ll still be here for the Thanksgiving feast.”

  “Surely not. That’s still almost two weeks away.” Once again her eyes darkened. “I have a feeling whatever is going to happen with my twin is going to happen very soon. She failed last night, but I imagine she won’t waste any time coming for me again.”

  Tyler placed his hand on the butt of his gun. “Don’t worry. You’re under the protection of a lethal gunslinger.”

  She eyed him wryly. “Have you ever even fired that thing?”

  “Only on a firing range,” he admitted. “But I hit the targets every time.”

  Once again her eyes were somber. “Could you shoot a woman?”

  “Absolutely, if she was trying to hurt you.” He said it firmly and without hesitation. He would do whatever it took to keep Greta safe.

  They fell silent, both of them watching Sugar as she watched them. What was it about Greta Colton that evoked such a fierce protectiveness inside him?

  Was it guilt over the way his brother had treated her? Was it just the natural instinct of a man who had taken possession of a woman twice and still had a hunger for her?

  He didn’t know the answer. He knew only the driving need to be her personal bodyguard until any danger had passed. He would stand in front of her and use his body as a shield if danger came at them.

  This was the first time that something felt far more important than his work at his company, and that alone was something strange and inexplicable for him.

  The slam of the side door turned their attention from the horse. Ryan stood just outside the door and waved for them to come inside.

  Once again he felt the palpable tension that filled Greta. “I know Ryan was the one to arrest you. Are you two okay now?” he asked as they headed for the house.

  “Initially, Ryan took a lot of grief for my arrest from the rest of the family and I’ll admit I was both angry and confused when I was arrested. But he was just doing his job, and unfortunately, all of the evidence he had pointed to me. We’re fine now. I’m just dreading having to talk about what happened last night.”

  “Just remember that last night is over and you’re still here,” he said. “You survived and live to tell the tale.”

  She cast him a quick grateful smile and then they reached Ryan. He greeted them both, Tyler with a handshake and Greta with a quick hug.

  “Let’s go down to the basement to talk,” he said as they entered the house.

  The basement was obviously a place for the Colton clan to hang out and relax. It was fully finished, with comfortable furniture, a huge flat-screen television and a pool table.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows and walk-out glass doors showed a view of a huge patio area and a swimming pool that was covered for the winter.

  It was easy for Tyler to imagine how beautiful the outside area would look in the summer with the sparkling pool water surrounded by blooming flowers. It was also too easy to imagine Greta in a bikini with the sun bathing her body.

  He and Greta sat on a sofa and Ryan sat in a chair opposite them and pulled out a pen and pad. “You said you had a report to make. I was going to touch base with Greta today anyway, but let’s get to the report first.”

  Greta told Ryan about waking up by being strangled. Tyler listened to her go over the events as they had occurred and a knot formed in his stomach as he again imagined what would have happened had she not managed to scream, had he not awoken to rush to her room in time.

  “It was her, Ryan. It was my twin sister. She jumped out of the window just as Tyler ran into the room,” Greta said, her voice trembling.

  Tyler reached over and took one of her hands in his. Cold. Her hand was icy cold, as if the telling of the story had given her an arctic chill inside her very soul.

  “Did you call the Oklahoma City Police Department?” Ryan asked. “Make a report with them?”

  “No,” Tyler replied and released Greta’s hand. “We figured it wasn’t necessary for them to come out and take evidence in an effort to identify the intruder. We know who it was and so thought it should be reported to you.”

  Ryan nodded and scribbled on his pad. When he looked up again, his gaze went to Greta. “I’ve managed to dig up some information.”

  Greta leaned forward, her body once again tense. “What kind of information?”

  Ryan hesitated and then stood enough so that he could pull several folded pieces of paper from his back pocket. “This is the original birth record for Tamara Stewart, issued by a Dr. Richard Cummings. It indicates the birth of twin girls.” He handed the piece of paper to Greta and then continued. “Two days later the same doctor issued a death certificate for one of the baby girls.”

  “That would be me,” Greta said softly.

  “Actually, we can assume that death certificate was for Mom’s baby girl that died. Dad must have greased some palms to make this all appear as legal as possible. The doctor had to be crooked in order for it to all work.” Ryan frowned.

  Tyler watched Greta carefully, knowing that what she was hearing was heavy emotional baggage, but her features were schooled in neutrality, as if they were discussing a topic that had nothing to do with her at all.

  “Is there more?” she asked.

  Ryan gave a curt nod of his head. “We found a death certificate for Tamara Stewart Bailey. She died of a drug overdose in a motel room in Lawrence, Kansas, last April.”

  Greta took the piece of paper and stared down at it. “In April, and our problems started here at the ranch around the beginning of June.” She looked back at her brother.

  “I’m only guessing here, but I think maybe at some point just before she died, she must have told her daughter about you for the first time.”

  “That makes sense,” Tyler said. “Otherwise, why wouldn’t the twin try to find Greta sooner?”

  “Exactly,” Ryan agreed.

  “Tamara Stewart Bailey,” Greta said slowly. “So she was married at the time of her death?”

  “She was a widow. Tom Bailey, her husband, died of a drug overdose thr
ee years ago, so he’s a definite dead end as far as getting any information about your twin,” Ryan said.

  “So we don’t know any more now other than my birth mother was a drug addict and is now dead,” Greta said flatly.

  “That’s not exactly true.” Ryan held one more piece of paper in his hand. “This is a copy of a short obituary that appeared in the Lawrence, Kansas, newspaper after Tamara’s death. It indicates that she is survived by one daughter, Alice Stewart.”

  Greta took the paper from Ryan and stared at it for a long time. “Alice.” Her voice was a mere whisper. She looked up at her brother and then at Tyler. “My monster now has a name and her name is Alice,” she said, fear simmering in her voice.

  Chapter 8

  Alice.

  The next morning when Greta stared in the bathroom mirror as she finished up getting ready for the day, her twin’s name played and replayed in her mind.

  Alice.

  Her twin sister.

  Alice. Her potential killer.

  They shared the same DNA and had shared the same womb for nine months. How twisted had Alice’s life been to turn her into a killer? Greta didn’t believe Alice had been born that way; if she had been, Greta surely would have some bad impulses or criminal thoughts. And she didn’t. She never had.

  They might be twins but they were obviously nothing alike on the inside. It had to be a nature-versus-nurture kind of thing. Greta had been raised in the bosom of a loving family.

  Even though her mother had been distant and often unavailable, Big J and Greta’s siblings had assured her of her value, her worth as a person. What had Alice’s childhood been like being raised by a drug-addicted mother? Or had Tamara Stewart become a drug addict after Alice was grown?

  She turned away from the mirror and left her bathroom. At this point in time it didn’t matter. Alice was a killer and she’d placed a big target on Greta’s back and that was all Greta had to stay focused on.

  Tamara Stewart Bailey. She couldn’t grieve for a mother she never knew, a mother who had sold her just after birth. Had her mother been a drug addict then? Lured by Big J’s money to sell a precious baby and spend the cash on her habit?

  She couldn’t feel sorry for a twin sister who now harbored such hatred in her heart. There were always choices, and at some point in her life Alice had chosen to go bad.

  Even if she had been raised by a drug-addicted mother, plenty of other people had suffered the same kind of circumstances and had made choices to rise above the adversity of their childhoods.

  Clad in a pair of comfortable jeans and a forest green sweater, she left her room and was surprised to find Tyler’s bedroom door open and him not inside. Where could he be?

  It was still fifteen minutes or so before breakfast time. She headed down the stairs and peeked in the dining room, where the table was set for the morning meal but nobody was there. Where was Tyler?

  She approached the kitchen and heard the sound of voices. Although Maria Sanchez prepared the family’s lunch and dinner, she went home after her duties were done. Edith was always in charge of breakfast for the family.

  There had been a time when Greta had been a young girl that she’d often sit at the kitchen island and watch Edith work or help with small cooking tasks that Edith would oversee. Over the years Edith had become like a surrogate mother to Greta.

  It was a bit of a shock to walk to the kitchen door and peer inside to see Tyler seated at the island, a cup of coffee in hand. Dressed in jeans and a navy long-sleeved shirt, he looked perfectly at ease.

  “My mother made the best French toast in the entire state of Oklahoma,” Tyler said to Edith, who was removing a baking sheet of golden biscuits from the oven. “She said the secret was in the cinnamon.”

  Edith placed the biscuit pan on a warming pad and shook her head, not a silver hair moving from the tight bun she wore. “Not cinnamon,” she replied. “Vanilla. The secret is in knowing just how much vanilla to add to the egg mixture. When you taste my French toast, you’ll forget all about any you’ve ever eaten before.”

  “I’ll just have to trust that you’re right for now.”

  “I’ll see to it that you have my French toast tomorrow morning,” Edith replied, rising to the challenge she obviously felt had been thrown down.

  “I look forward to eating it. French toast is one of my breakfast favorites,” Tyler replied.

  “What’s going on in here?” Greta asked as she entered the kitchen. Tyler greeted her with one of his amazing smiles and she couldn’t help the ridiculous thump of her heart in response. How could a simple smile do that to her?

  “Your guest is bothering the cook,” Edith replied, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that indicated Tyler was working his magic charm on her.

  “I’m just playing nice to make sure my bed doesn’t get short-sheeted in the near future,” he replied.

  “If you continue to behave yourself through today, then you’re good for another night,” Edith replied. “But I’m not making any promises about the future. Now both of you get out of here and let me finish up my work.”

  Tyler stood and grabbed his coffee cup and carried it with him as they left the kitchen and went into the dining room. Tyler sat in the chair he’d sat in the day before for meals while Greta beelined to the silver coffee server on the buffet side table and got herself a cup of coffee.

  “How are you doing this morning?” he asked.

  Greta knew she’d been fairly quiet the day before after Ryan had left. She’d had so much to process, so many things to think about. “I’m much better this morning. It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do.” She sat in the chair opposite his, where she’d sat the day before. “Did you sleep well? I know it’s tough sometimes to be in a strange bed.”

  “I slept like a baby once I finally went to sleep. I have to confess I was awake for a little while worrying about you. You got hit with some pretty heavy stuff yesterday.” His eyes radiated with a touch of worried concern.

  “I’m still processing it all, but at least I now have some answers that I didn’t have before.” She took a sip of her coffee, refusing to dwell on the thoughts she’d had earlier about her birth mother and her twin sister.

  “By the way, have I said that you look ravishing in green?” he asked.

  She cocked her head to one side, pretending to think. “No. I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I would remember you saying something like that.”

  At that moment Abra and Big J entered the dining room, followed closely by Brett and Hannah, and breakfast was placed on the table.

  “This crazy old brain of mine—I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your first name,” Big J said to Tyler.

  Greta’s heart cringed. There had been a time when her father never forgot a name or a face. Tyler reintroduced himself. “Greta is training a horse I own,” he added.

  “Ah, that’s my girl.” Big J’s gaze was warm and loving as he looked at Greta. “You won’t find anyone better. She’s half-woman and all horse whisperer.”

  Tyler’s eyes glittered as he looked at her, the expression on his face letting her know that as far as he was concerned, she was definitely all woman.

  Greta focused on her plate as a small wave of heat swept through her. Drat the man for being able to make her all hot and bothered in the middle of a family breakfast with just a wicked glint in his eyes.

  With all the emotional turmoil that had whirled around inside her the night before, it had been a tempting thought to sneak from her own room into his to find a temporary respite in the warmth of his strong arms.

  Thankfully, she’d successfully fought off the impulse, knowing that it would only be taking a step backward in what she wanted in their relationship right now.

  He still confused her. She still didn’t quite trust the warm, caring personality he had shown her so far. She had been fooled so easily before and she didn’t want to get her heart involved with Tyler Stanton.

  But it was impossibl
e not to admire the way he interacted with her family. It was difficult not to notice how easily he’d charmed everyone he’d come into contact with so far.

  Was it a calculated act simply to draw her back into his bed? If so, he was going to a lot of trouble for sex. Or was this really who he was at the core? And she still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him...what exactly they were doing here together.

  Stop overthinking things, she told herself as breakfast finished up. She just had to let things happen and see where they led.

  She was eager to get outside, empty her brain of complex thoughts and get some work done with Sugar. Even damaged horses were definitely less complicated than human beings.

  Twenty minutes later an armed Tyler followed her outside. He might have been a high-powered businessman, but as his narrowed gaze shot around the area of the small corral and beyond, he looked more like an undercover bodyguard on duty.

  She breathed in the scent of home, the fragrance of fresh air and sweet hay and horseflesh. She immediately felt more centered. Despite the fact that she knew it was possible danger might be near, she felt safer here than any other place in the world.

  Sugar greeted her presence at the corral gate with a snort and a shake of her head, as if to say “Don’t bother me.” Greta carried in her jacket pocket two bright orange carrots, although she didn’t expect the horse to get close enough to her today to take them from her.

  “She doesn’t look any friendlier today than she did yesterday,” Tyler said as he leaned into the corral fence, one foot on a lower rung.

  “Patience, Mr. Stanton,” Greta replied. “The most important attribute a trainer can have is a tremendous amount of patience.”

  “I’m learning that’s a pretty good trait for a man to have, too.”

  She smiled at him. “Definitely.”

  He grinned and leaned over and gave her a light peck on her cheek. Despite the fact that it was quick, she felt the impact of his warm lips sizzle through her.

  “What was that for?” she asked.