Colton's Cinderella Bride

by Lisa Childs

  “I know,” he said. And he had to stop beating her up about it.

  She couldn’t change the past any more than he could.

  He closed the short distance between their faces and brushed his mouth across hers. Her breath escaped in a sweet sigh across his lips. Then she kissed him back.

  It was like that night so long ago in this very suite. The passion between them ignited, burning so hot. He’d never felt an attraction like this to anyone else—never before or since Juliette.

  She ran her hands over his chest, and he realized he’d never put on a shirt. Her skin touched his, making him tingle—making him hard.

  “I want you,” he said, and his voice sounded so deep and gruff as desire nearly strangled him. Want didn’t even seem adequate to describe the hunger burning inside him, making him ache.

  She kissed him again with a hunger of her own, a hunger that almost matched his.

  He groaned, and her tongue slid between his lips, mating with his. She tasted so damn sweet...

  And she smelled like honeysuckle and sunshine, yet he didn’t think it was just the shampoo. It was like it was her essence because he could taste the sweetness on her lips and feel the heat of her mouth.

  She pulled back, gasping for breath, and murmured, “I want you...”

  He swung her up his arms, like he had that night on the stairs. Like that night, she slid her arms around his neck, holding him as he held her. He turned toward the bedroom.

  But as he turned, the door to the hall rattled. It wasn’t with a knock, though. It was just a faint noise as the handle jiggled.

  Someone was at the door. Someone was trying to get in without alerting them to his presence. The officers or bodyguards wouldn’t do that. Probably only the killer would. Just like that night at the plant nursery, he must have been following Juliette tonight.

  He was going to try to kill her—right here.

  Chapter 11

  Juliette had been so careful to make sure that she wasn’t followed. She’d been certain she’d lost the killer and the bodyguards since neither could have been all that familiar with Red Ridge. She’d even lost the patrol car stationed outside her house because she hadn’t wanted her coworkers to know where she was going—to see Blake.

  She figured that they already suspected Pandora might be his child. So if they followed her to his hotel suite, they would have speculated that something was going on between them again.

  And that wasn’t why Juliette had come to him. Nothing had been going on between them. Well, clearly that had changed. She’d told herself she’d only come here to confront him about disappointing their daughter. But when he’d kissed her...

  She’d forgotten about her anger. And she’d forgotten about that killer...

  Until now. That had to be who was messing with the door, trying to get inside the suite undetected. She reached inside the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out her service weapon. Sliding off the safety, she pointed the pistol toward the door.

  Her instinct was to let him get inside the suite. Then it would be easier to apprehend him—even if she had to put another bullet in him to do that.

  But Blake might get hurt...

  She gestured at him to go into the bedroom and close that door. But he just shook his head. And then his cell phone rang. He must have had it in the pocket of his jeans because the bells pealed loudly, echoing in the living room.

  The rattling at the door stopped.

  “Damn it...” she murmured.

  As he accepted the call, she headed toward the door. “The bodyguards are in the hotel, looking for the man they saw following you,” Blake related. “Once they caught up to you.”

  She’d been so careful that she was surprised that they had. But they weren’t the only ones. The killer had caught up to her, too.

  Juliette knew where he was—or where he’d been. He couldn’t have gotten far. Or he might not have left yet at all. She kept her back against the foyer wall as she neared the door. Then she reached out, jerked open the handle and swung her gun into the hall.

  “Wait!” Blake called after her.

  But she had already slipped into the corridor, once again keeping her back against the wall.

  “Wait for them!” he called out.

  “Stay here!” she yelled at him as she headed down the hall. She heard a door closing. At this hour, she didn’t think it was a guest. And none of the elevators she passed were at the top floor, so it must have been to the stairwell at the end of the hall. She rushed toward it.

  She had to catch him. She had to end this.

  So she wasn’t even thinking as she pushed open the door to the stairs. She wasn’t thinking that he might have been standing behind it, waiting for her—until a big hand wrapped around her wrist and struck it against the top railing to the stairs.

  Pain radiated up her arm. But she didn’t loosen her grasp on her weapon. If she dropped it, then she had no chance of surviving. Even with his wounded shoulder, he was so much stronger than she was.

  She couldn’t lose her weapon.

  But then his hand moved from her wrist to her shoulders, and he pushed—trying to send her over the railing and down twenty-one stories. Now she dropped the gun as she struggled to hold on to the railing. It clattered as it hit the stairs below her. But it didn’t fire—fortunately.

  As she tried to hang on, she looked up—and into those cold eyes of the killer. His hands moved from her shoulders to her throat. He squeezed, cutting off her breath, and his mouth curved into a cruel grin as he told her, “Your kid is next, bitch!”

  * * *

  Blake’s heart stopped beating entirely as he pushed open the door to the stairwell. He’d been only seconds behind Juliette. But he was too late—just like the bodyguards would be when they made it up to the twenty-first floor. The killer had his hands on her—around her throat now—trying to choke the life out her.

  Blake balled his hand into a fist and swung it at the guy. He caught him by surprise—enough that the guy loosened his grip. But so did Juliette, her hands sliding from the stairwell railing. Blake lunged for her, catching her. But he missed a few steps and slammed into the brick wall of the stairwell before regaining his footing.

  “I’m going to make sure you stop playing her hero,” the man said as he raised a gun, pointing the barrel down the stairwell—right at Blake.

  Juliette had regained her footing, as well, and she grabbed Blake’s hand—pulling him down the stairs. As they ran, shots rang out—the blasts echoing through the stairwell. Bullets struck the wall near their heads, sending chips of brick back at them.

  One caught Blake’s cheek, stinging. He ignored the pain and hurried along behind Juliette. But he collided with her as she stopped on a landing. Then she was moving around—back up the stairs.

  Her gun gripped tightly in her hands, she began to fire back. Her shots were even louder, the blasts ringing in Blake’s ears, and his head began to pound. While there had been shooting a couple of nights ago, he hadn’t been this close—with his head nearly next to the weapon.

  But then it stopped firing as Juliette emptied the clip. “Run!” she yelled at him as she fumbled inside the backpack-style purse swinging from her shoulder. She was probably looking for more ammunition.

  Blake didn’t move. He couldn’t go without her. He couldn’t leave her behind and unprotected.

  She shoved at him, trying to get him out of the way as more shots rang out.

  These were not hers. These were the killer’s bullets coming at them—at him.

  * * *

  Finn had seriously just about had it with late-night visits and phone calls. Nothing good ever came of either. And this one was no exception. But this call had summoned him out of his house—to the Colton mansion on Bay Boulevard.

  He drove past the Larsen twins’ mansion
s, trying to peer beyond the gates. Despite the late hour, the homes were all lit up. Who the hell knew what was going on inside them? Parties? Clandestine meetings?

  If only he could get some evidence that they were behind all the drugs coming in and out of Red Ridge...

  But they were too smart for anything to stick. Finn had nothing but rumors and speculation, and no prosecutor could use those to convince a grand jury to indict. They were probably involved with that killer from the park, too, the one threatening Juliette and her daughter. He suspected that anything involving drugs in Red Ridge also involved them.

  And that suitcase full of sand the little girl had seen the shooter take from the victim—that had to have been drugs. Once they’d ID’d the young woman, they’d found her prior arrest for some low-level dealing. Had the woman stolen the drugs and been trying to resell them? Had the killer murdered her to reclaim the drugs or to send a message to other dealers?

  Whether intended or not, that message had been received, because no one was talking. Finn sighed as he drove past those mansions.

  He had nothing on the Larsons. Yet. But hopefully that would change soon.

  He also had nothing on the Groom Killer. That was what he’d already told Fenwick Colton when the man had called him. But the mayor of Red Ridge had insisted that Finn come out to his estate anyway.

  The gates were open, so he drove right through and around the circular drive to the front door. Like the Larsons’ mansions, this one was all lit up.

  Didn’t rich people sleep?

  But then, it wasn’t as if they had to punch clocks like working stiffs.

  Finn shut off the ignition and headed up the walk to the front door. Fenwick must have been watching for him because the tall mahogany door opened before Finn could even ring the bell. “You took your time,” the older man remarked.

  And Finn grimaced. No thank you for agreeing to this late-night visit. No appreciation at all. Fenwick Colton had always been a loud blowhard. Rich and entitled. But he was even worse now than he’d been before—because now he was desperate.

  Finn could see it in his eyes. They were glassy, too, as if he’d been drinking. It probably didn’t take much for a guy as short and skinny as Fenwick to have had too much, though. The man turned from the door and walked away, expecting Finn to follow. And of course he headed, albeit a bit wobbly, to the den and straight to the bar in the corner of it.

  “Drink?” he asked as he lifted a decanter of liquor.

  Finn shook his head.

  “So you’re on duty?”

  “No,” Finn said. “I told you that when you called. I was home in bed.” With the most beautiful woman...and once again he’d had to leave her. He’d known being police chief was a full-time job, but with the Groom Killer on the loose, it had become an around-the-clock position.

  “How can you sleep with what’s happening in Red Ridge?” Fenwick asked, his face tight with disapproval. “Killers on the loose, spoiling weddings.”

  Once Katie Parsons had dug up more on the latest murder victim, Finn wasn’t so sure that the killer hadn’t actually done Marnie Halloway a favor. Neither Zane Godfried nor any of his other aliases had been a good person. Marnie was probably better off that the wedding had never happened.

  But as someone who longed to get married himself, Finn was frustrated that they had yet to catch the Groom Killer.

  “You need to step up your efforts to track down Demi Colton,” Fenwick told him.

  It wasn’t the first time the businessman had told Finn how to do his job. Even if Fenwick wasn’t also the mayor of Red Ridge, Finn suspected he still would have tried steering this particular investigation. “Finding Demi is not our only concern right now,” Finn said.

  Especially when Finn wasn’t even sure she had anything to do with the Groom Killer except for having once been involved with the very first victim. She couldn’t have even known about the last one since the FBI had reported sightings of her far from Red Ridge. So how would she have had anything to do with his murder?

  His path had never crossed Hayley Patton’s, either. So that hunch Finn had started having about the first victim’s fiancée hadn’t panned out. He didn’t necessarily think she was guilty—just someone involved, however indirectly, with the murders.

  Fenwick waved a hand dismissively and said, “I hope you’re not wasting your limited resources on finding a drug dealer’s killer.”

  The mayor, once again, seemed to already be apprised of everything happening within the department.

  “How’d you know she was a dealer?” Finn asked.

  Fenwick winked. “I have my sources...”

  Lorelei?

  The receptionist was fiercely loyal, though. Finn doubted the mayor could have charmed her. But there were plenty of other people within the department who could have told him.

  “It doesn’t matter what the young woman was doing,” Finn said. “She didn’t deserve to die.”

  Fenwick snorted. “She knew the dangers. That kind of stuff happens all the time with their kind shooting each other over disputes.”

  “That killer also shot one of my officers and is trying to kill another one, as well as her daughter, who witnessed that murder.” Her daughter. Your granddaughter.

  It wasn’t Finn’s place to tell Fenwick Colton that he was a grandpa—although he would love to see the vain playboy’s face when he heard the news. And that was news he must not have heard yet or he wouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss the importance of finding the man who’d threatened his granddaughter.

  Fenwick shrugged. “The Groom Killer still needs to be your top priority.”

  “Finding the guy shooting and threatening my officers is my top priority,” he said. He hated that he’d come so close to nearly losing one of them. He didn’t want that to happen again—with Juliette Walsh.

  “You need to remember, Finn,” the mayor persisted, “that if Layla can’t get married and save my company, your resources will be even more limited.”

  Finn flinched—even though it wasn’t the first time he’d heard the threat. He knew where Fenwick was heading with this.

  “I subsidize the K9 program per my late wife’s wishes,” the older man continued. “But I won’t be able to afford to do that much longer...”

  Finn had nothing to do with business, so he didn’t know how Fenwick had gotten into his current predicament. He also didn’t know how a man could barter one of his children’s lives as a way to get out of it.

  And now he realized why Blake hadn’t told his father that he had a granddaughter. Hell, if Finn had a daughter, he wouldn’t want Fenwick Colton to know it, either.

  Before he could even decide if or how he wanted to reply, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, which caused Fenwick to grumble at the rudeness. Ignoring him, he accepted the call, “Chief Colton...”

  “Chief, it’s Frank,” the dispatcher said. And he sounded nearly as upset as he had the night Finn had had an officer down.

  “What is it?” Finn asked, as his heart pounded heavy and hard with dread. “Not...”

  “There’s been a shooting at the Colton Plaza Hotel,” Frank replied.

  “Any casualties?”

  “Not that have been reported,” Frank replied. “But it is officer-involved.”

  “Which officer?” he asked this time.

  Last time he’d made an assumption and he’d been wrong. But it had been a safe assumption to make since he had only one officer a murderer was determined to kill.

  “Juliette Walsh,” Frank confirmed.

  “Was she alone?”

  “No,” Frank replied. “Blake Colton is with her.”

  Finn flinched. “I’ll be right there.” He clicked off the call and slid the cell into his pocket. But he hesitated before turning toward the older man.

 
Had Fenwick overheard any of the conversation?

  Did he know that his son had been involved in a shooting? And while there had been no reports of casualties yet, that didn’t mean that there wasn’t one.

  Or two...

  Chapter 12

  “Where the hell did he go...?” Juliette murmured as she followed Sasha around the perimeter of the hotel. Animals were not allowed in the hotel, so she’d left Sasha in the car when she’d arrived. Despite being July, the evening was cool. So Sasha had been fine with the windows down and a bowl of fresh water on the back seat with her. Juliette hadn’t intended to stay longer than the time it would have taken to give Blake a piece of her mind over not seeing their daughter again. But then he’d kissed her...

  If not for the killer interrupting them, they would have done more than that. So it was probably good that he’d interrupted them. But trying to kill them...

  Fortunately the bodyguards had shown up in the stairwell and the killer had fled out a door on another story. The bodyguards had then moved to cover all the exits—to catch him when he tried to escape.

  But they hadn’t seen anyone leaving the hotel. Not even a guest or employee.

  It was in the middle of shift, so an employee wouldn’t have been leaving. And it was so late that guests were probably already settled in for the night.

  While she and Sasha were checking the perimeter, Dante Mancuso and Flash were inside—trying to track the killer to a room. The man had nearly opened the door to Blake’s suite, so he might have been able to open another one and slip inside to hide.

  Once she’d slid in another clip and started firing back at him, he’d taken off onto a floor above where she and Blake had been.

  Blake...

  He was okay—but for a scratch on his face. He’d claimed that wasn’t because of a bullet directly but from a bullet breaking off brick that had struck his face.

  His handsome face...

  He’d looked so worried when she’d insisted on retrieving Sasha from her car to search the lot. He’d been concerned about her.