by Lisa Childs
Juliette was not here alone.
He should have felt better, but he still had a heavy pressure in his chest. Maybe that was just his disappointment over how his parenting had started off.
Or maybe it was still that fear that he might not see Juliette again.
But then he did—as she ran through the parking lot—chasing some girl with purple hair and torn jeans. Instinctively he reached for the door handle to push it open and step out.
The woman was obviously not the killer. So Juliette was chasing her for another reason. And he shouldn’t intervene in police department work. He might jeopardize the arrest.
And infuriate Juliette even more than his presence usually did. But he couldn’t stay in the car and just watch, either. He pushed open the door and stepped onto the parking lot. Heat radiated up from the asphalt.
The temperature didn’t seem to bother the two women—who ran flat-out across the lot—in his direction. The purple-haired girl seemed desperate to escape the officer. But Juliette was determined, too, and closing the distance between them. Just as Juliette leaped toward the runner, shots rang out. Both women fell to the hot asphalt.
Had Juliette knocked them to the ground?
Or had a bullet?
Chapter 15
Blood spatters dripped down Juliette’s face. She wiped them away with a trembling hand. What the hell had just happened? She’d heard the gun shots—just as she had already been falling, knocking the woman to the ground.
She hadn’t acted fast enough, though. She hadn’t been able to draw her weapon from her holster to return fire. But she hadn’t needed to. The bodyguards had jumped out of wherever they’d been hiding to return fire. They’d undoubtedly saved her life, just as they had the night before.
Once again, the killer had chosen a higher vantage point, like the roof of the greenhouse at the plant nursery from where he’d shot at her and had hit Dean instead.
Blake was standing over her now, staring down at her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gruff. His gaze appeared focused on her face and the blood droplets she’d smeared across it.
She nodded and tried to see where the killer might have shot from. He must have been on the roof of the hotel near the bus terminal. The bodyguards had gone after him. But she suspected that just like last night, the killer would have already escaped.
He moved so quickly. His wounded shoulder—which she’d shot in the park—must not have bothered him at all. She wished she’d shot him somewhere else that day—that she’d been able to stop him from hurting anyone else.
Like Dean...
And Blake...
And this poor girl...
“But there’s blood...” Blake murmured.
“It’s not mine.” She glanced down at the prone body of the girl she’d been chasing. There was no need to check for a pulse. The girl had been struck in the head. She hadn’t had a chance.
But had she been the intended target? Or like Dean Landon, had she taken a bullet meant for Juliette?
I’m sorry...she silently told her.
Juliette had only meant to arrest her. Not for her to die...
“Are you okay?” Carson Gage asked as he and the German shepherd joined her. Sasha was also with him, following the suitcase he carried. The girl’s suitcase.
She would not be needing it anymore.
Juliette nodded. “I’m fine. You should take Justice and see if you can track the killer.”
Carson nodded, but he didn’t rush off. He must have thought the same thing she did—that it was too late. The killer was long gone again. “I called it in,” he said. “But it doesn’t look like an ambulance is going to be necessary.”
“No.” Instead of leaving in the back seat of a police car, the girl would be leaving in a body bag.
“This suitcase was hers, I’m assuming,” Carson remarked. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at the body, focusing on the woman’s face. “She looks familiar...”
“She looks like the woman from the park,” Juliette said.
And Carson nodded. “I think it’s her sister. I didn’t get a good look at her when I notified the parents about the first victim. She wouldn’t come out onto the porch where I was talking to them.”
Like maybe she hadn’t wanted him to get a good look at her. Or maybe she hadn’t been curious about what had happened to her sister because she’d already known. Maybe she’d even known her sister’s killer...
Damn it!
A potential real lead to the killer was gone. So maybe the woman hadn’t just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe the bullet she’d taken had actually been meant for her and not for Juliette instead.
But still she felt a twinge of guilt along with her disappointment in losing the lead.
She had a feeling the girl would have been alive if Juliette hadn’t been the one who’d discovered her standing with that suitcase in line for the bus.
* * *
Blake had witnessed a murder himself now, so maybe he could relate to Pandora—if she brought up what she’d seen that day in the park. As he did for business meetings, he had prepared himself for every possible scenario that might happen during his visit with his daughter.
He’d had time to think about it while the bodyguards had smuggled him into the safe house. But now, standing in the doorway of the bedroom in which she was staying, he could only stare at her.
She played with some dolls. A trio of them sat in miniature chairs around a miniature table in the corner of the room. Pandora poured them each imaginary tea from a small plastic teapot.
Before he could think of anything to say, she glanced up and noticed him in the doorway. “Daddy!” she exclaimed. She leaped from her chair and rushed toward him.
And his heart stopped. Nobody had ever been as happy to see him as she was. And she didn’t even know him...
But maybe that was why she was so happy.
She held up her arms, and for a second Blake froze, uncertain what she wanted. He had never been around little kids before. Then, just as disappointment was beginning to flash across her face, he lifted her in his arms and drew her close to his chest.
She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. And his heart lurched with the overwhelming force of the love rushing through him. He’d never felt anything like this before.
She leaned back and stared at his face, as if trying to memorize it. Maybe that was because she’d seen it only once and then he hadn’t come around again.
He’d been such a fool. And a coward...
Sure, she was in danger. But the bodyguards took extra precautions to make sure there was no way anyone would realize they were heading to the safe house. They never drove their SUVs—always some other kind of vehicle they found, like that van from the hospital or utility trucks.
Right now, the killer, if he was for any reason following Blake, would think he was back in his hotel suite. But Blake suspected the killer was instead parked somewhere outside the Red Ridge Police Department, which was where Juliette had been heading after leaving the crime scene at the bus terminal.
She had to be safe at the police department. But Blake had a team of bodyguards stationed outside it, as well. He’d brought in more guards from the security agency to make sure there were enough to keep her and Pandora safe.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” the little girl told him. “You’re just in time for the party.” She wriggled down from his arms but grabbed his hand with her tiny one and tugged him toward the table of dolls.
He had sisters, so he was not unfamiliar with tea parties. But it had been a long while since he’d been forced to participate in one. Pandora had a sweeter way of manipulating him than his sisters had had, though. There was no one holding his matchbox cars hostage until he drank several cups of fake tea.
He
was here willingly. “I’m glad I didn’t miss it,” he told her.
She reached for one of the dolls to move it from the chair, but he knelt next to the table instead. “I can’t take a seat from a lady,” he told her.
“Why not?” she asked.
Of course her mother, who was tough and independent, would be teaching her daughter to be a little feminist, as well.
“It’s just not the gentlemanly thing to do,” he explained. “A gentleman always gives his seat to a lady.”
Her little brow furrowed with confusion. Then she nodded. “And princes are gentlemen, right?”
Not some of the ones he’d met—the ones who were real royalty. Blake was just Red Ridge royalty—according to Juliette. And right now, with his cousin suspected of murder bringing to attention the horrendous crimes some of his other family members had committed, there was nothing advantageous to being a Colton.
Maybe that was why Juliette had never told him about his daughter. She hadn’t wanted Pandora to be acknowledged as a Colton. At the moment, he couldn’t blame her.
“Daddy?” she prodded him.
And he realized he hadn’t answered her question. Because he wanted to be honest but appropriate with her, he replied, “All princes should be gentlemen.”
She smiled and nodded in agreement. Then she handed him a cup of tea.
He passed the little plastic cup from hand to hand. “Ow, ow, that’s hot!”
She giggled and acted as if her cup was too hot, as well. Then they kept playing like that—following each other’s lead until they both collapsed into fits of laughter.
Blake had never felt the way he did with his daughter. Had never felt so much love...
Then he looked up and noticed that they were no longer alone. Someone leaned against the doorjamb, watching them. It wasn’t the female cop, Elle Gage, who must have been assigned to protect Pandora 24-7. After letting him into the house, Elle had left him alone with his daughter.
The woman standing in the doorway was Juliette.
Her lashes fluttered as she blinked rapidly, as if fighting back the tears that glistened in her eyes. Then Pandora noticed her, too, and jumped up to throw herself into her mother’s arms.
Juliette did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. She clutched the little girl close and spun her around like they’d been separated for weeks instead of hours.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Pandora said. “You’re just in time for our tea party! The tea’s still hot.”
“I see that,” Juliette murmured. She must have been watching them for a while.
But Blake had been so enthralled with his daughter, he hadn’t noticed Juliette’s arrival. He noticed her now, though. She looked so beautiful, her hair down and loose around her bare shoulders. She wore another sleeveless blouse with a short skirt. This one was an off-white color that complemented her orange blouse.
Unlike him, Juliette settled onto one of the chairs—with the doll she’d displaced in her lap. The chair didn’t break beneath her weight like it would have Blake’s, but then, Juliette was so petite and light that he’d easily lifted her.
Pandora looked around the table, and a big smile spread across her face, making the dimple in her left cheek deepen. “The whole family’s here now.”
Blake felt another twinge in his heart, but he wasn’t sure if it was love this time.
Or pure panic.
* * *
“She’s supposedly my family!” Fenwick Colton bellowed. “I should damn well be allowed to see her.”
Finn was the police chief. Not a family counselor. “I’m not getting involved in this,” he told the man.
Fenwick was so fired up that instead of summoning Finn, he’d come down to the police department himself. He must have either bullied or charmed his way past Lorelei back to Finn’s office.
Fortunately Juliette had already left for the day, or the older man might have demanded to see her, as well. Right now he was just focused on her daughter, though.
“You have her stashed away in some safe house,” Fenwick said. “So you are involved.”
“I’m protecting a witness to a murder,” he said. And he was damn glad that he had. With all the attempts made on her mother’s life, there was no way the child would have been safe if she hadn’t been hidden away from the killer.
“She’s a little girl,” Fenwick said, and for once there seemed to be almost genuine empathy in his voice. But then he cleared his throat and mused, “It’s just not for certain that she’s Blake’s little girl.”
And the empathy was gone.
Finn swallowed a sigh of frustration as his head began to pound. Was he really related to this man? At least he wasn’t his son—like poor Blake was.
“What do you know about her mother?” the mayor asked.
“That she’s a damn fine officer,” Finn said. “One of my finest.”
“How fine is she?” The older man’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Have you been involved with her, too?”
“Absolutely not.” That was a line Finn would have never crossed—with any of his officers.
“What about anyone else? Has she ever been married or engaged?” Fenwick fired the questions at him. “Has she ever dated anybody else around here?”
Finn wasn’t about to discuss Juliette Walsh’s personal life—not that he thought she’d ever had much of one besides her daughter. Her life revolved around that little girl.
That was probably why she was so determined to catch the man who’d threatened the child. Even if her efforts cost her own life.
“I don’t get involved with my officers,” Finn said. “And I don’t get involved in their personal lives, either. You need to talk to your son about this.”
Fenwick didn’t bother swallowing his sigh; he expelled a long and ragged one. “Blake and I don’t talk. We argue.”
No wonder Blake had stayed away from Red Ridge for so many years. Finn didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent. Maybe the mayor would get the hint that he was not going to participate in this conversation and leave.
“And why is Blake following this police officer around?” Fenwick asked. “He’s not a cop or a bodyguard.”
Finn shrugged. He’d already pointed that out to Blake to no avail. Maybe that was why father and son argued so much; they were too much alike. Stubborn and headstrong.
“She must mean something to him,” Fenwick said, and now there was fear in his voice. “Maybe too much...”
Finn suspected the same. If a man was willing to put his life at risk for a woman, he must care about her.
“You don’t think he’d do something crazy like propose to her, do you?” Fenwick asked, his voice cracking with very real fear and horror.
Finn shrugged again. “Like I said, Blake’s the one you need to have this conversation with.”
The older man shook his head. “No, you’re the one who needs to catch Demi Colton and stop these killings of innocent men about to be married.”
And now Finn understood why Fenwick was here. He was worried that his son might become the next victim of the Groom Killer.
“I don’t think you have to worry about Blake becoming a target,” he said.
Juliette wasn’t happy to have Blake following her around. And she had never told him about his child until he returned to Red Ridge.
No. Fenwick didn’t need to worry about the Groom Killer going after his son; he needed to worry about the killer that was after Pandora and Juliette taking out Blake, too.
Chapter 16
Standing in that doorway, watching Blake play and laugh with their daughter, had caused Juliette physical pain. She’d felt the pressure of guilt weighing so heavily on her that her heart ached with it. She never should have kept his daughter from him.
She should have told him. He’d had a rig
ht to know. And then, if he hadn’t wanted to be involved in Pandora’s life, it would have been his choice.
She never should have made that choice for him. Or for Pandora...
But along with the guilt, Juliette had felt another kind of pain as her heart had swelled with so much love she’d thought it might burst.
Pandora was so funny and sweet and smart. She was an amazing little girl. And Juliette was so lucky she was hers. She had to make certain nothing happened to her.
But she didn’t want anything to happen to Blake, either. He could have died the night before—when the gunman had fired all those shots in the stairwell.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Pandora asked.
The tea party had ended a while ago, and the little girl was lying in bed now, her head on her pillow. Juliette knelt on one side of her twin bed, and Blake knelt on the other. Sasha had jumped onto the foot of the bed, spinning in circles like a cat until she settled onto the little girl’s feet.
Sasha was missing Pandora nearly as much as Juliette was. That was why the beagle hadn’t budged from the little girl’s empty bed last night when Blake had arrived. She wondered how she would get her canine partner to leave her daughter tonight. She would have left the dog here—if she didn’t need Sasha so much herself.
Pandora reached out and touched Juliette’s forehead. “You have worry lines,” she murmured.
And Juliette smiled with that love bursting inside her. Her little girl was so precocious.
Pandora turned to Blake. She reached out and touched the cut on his cheek. “Daddy has a line, too.”
“It’s just a scratch,” he assured her. “No worry line.”
But Juliette’s were. She was worried that he could have been hurt so much worse than the concrete chips he must have had flushed out before he’d come to see her the night before.
Pandora smiled. “You are still handsome,” she assured him. “Don’t you think so, Mommy? Don’t you think Daddy is a handsome prince?”
The little girl knew that Juliette did because she’d told her so in the stories she’d shared about her father. The imp was playing matchmaker.
