Colton's Twin Secrets

by Justine Davis

  Wondering when he’d started believing in fairy tales, he answered rather sourly.

  “Mancuso.”

  “You sound like I feel.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “I’m pulling you off the Larsons,” Finn said bluntly.

  Dante blinked. This made no sense. He was deeper into that case than anyone—he had more contacts, informants and threads to follow, so he couldn’t just stand down. Even if the only concrete evidence they’d found so far was suddenly missing. He knew Finn Colton wouldn’t give up that easily. But the chief also didn’t make capricious decisions, so he waited. Silently.

  “No protest?”

  “I have a loud one. Just waiting to hear your reasoning.”

  Finn laughed. “Don’t think I don’t know that’s a compliment. And I’m about to give you one, although you probably won’t think so.”

  He already didn’t, but again he merely waited.

  “Look, you need time to...adjust to being a guardian to those girls. Am I wrong in thinking you haven’t had much contact with them before now?”

  His nearly nonexistent relationship with his brother was hardly a secret—in fact, he’d made a point of being sure everyone knew it, because everyone also knew Dominic had had his fingers in a lot of unsavory places.

  “No,” Dante said warily, wondering where this was heading.

  “Okay, then, like I said, you need time with them, to get your life rearranged.”

  “That,” he said drily, “is an understatement.” And Finn would know, given the turn his own life had recently taken. Setting up a fake relationship to try and smoke out the Groom Killer and to see that turn into the real thing had to be...as crazy as hiring a Colton heiress as a nanny.

  “So, officially, you’re now on half days.”

  Dante went still. “Officially?” Was Finn implying there was an unofficial purpose to all this, some off-the-record op?

  “And work those half days from home. You can still show up here when you need to, but bond with those girls.”

  Dante held the phone away from his ear for a moment, looking at it, wondering if he was hearing right. Then, carefully, he put it back and asked, “If you’re pulling me off the Larsons...work on what?”

  “Finding who’s dirty.”

  For an instant he couldn’t breathe. Him? “Isn’t that what IA is for?”

  “Eventually. But I’d much rather present Internal Affairs with an already-cornered rat.”

  “Chief—”

  “You’ve got the perfect cover. You really do need the time to get your life reordered. Nobody will question that. And if you’re off the Larson case, their rat might be less careful around you.”

  He couldn’t deny it made a certain amount of sense.

  He also couldn’t deny the last thing he wanted was to be digging around in the lives of his friends and colleagues, looking for dirt.

  “I know it sucks, Mancuso. But it has to be done. And now, before word gets out about the phone going missing. Right now only you, Ron Fox and I know. We’ve got to use that.”

  Dante drew in a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

  “Run everything through me. You can use Parsons for routine stuff—she can keep her mouth shut.” Dante knew the department’s tech whiz could and would do exactly that. “Whatever else you need, let me make the request. I’ve already got the feed from the evidence room cameras. I’ll send it to you.”

  “Copy.”

  “Anyone asks, you’re working on the Groom Killer, because we need more bodies on it and I decided the Larsons could wait.”

  “Yes, sir.” He thought rapidly. “I’ll bring Flash in. Have him take a sniff around the evidence locker the phone was in. That way it’ll be cataloged in that brain of his.”

  “Good idea. Whatever it takes, you find him. I don’t like people dirtying our house.”

  “Agreed,” Dante said, wholeheartedly this time.

  “Oh, and Mancuso?”

  “Sir?”

  “Here’s the real compliment. Next time that sergeants’ test is up? Take it.”

  Dante was still staring at the phone when he heard the key in the lock. He was so taken aback by this turn of affairs that the sound startled him.

  And suddenly another side of this new arrangement hit him, and it was almost as troublesome.

  He was going to be spending a lot more time around Gemma Colton than he’d planned on.

  Chapter 12

  None of this was going as she’d expected, Gemma thought.

  When Dante had told her he’d been put on half days at home until he was settled in with the babies, she’d almost expected him to say he didn’t need a nanny after all.

  She was surprised at the depth of her disappointment at the thought. And not just because she would lose her chance to prove Dev wrong; she’d been looking forward to getting to know those two tiny girls, how they were the same, how they were different. She had already planned to use their nap times to do internet searches for all the information she could find on raising twins. And tomorrow she’d planned on calling Mrs. Moncrief, one of the big donors she’d lined up for the K9 unit fund-raiser last year, who had mentioned she had twin grandsons. But now, if Dante didn’t need help...

  He quickly disabused her of that notion.

  “I’ll still need time to work, and sometimes I’ll have to go check something out. Plus there’s Flash—he needs his routine, too.”

  “Routine?”

  “Yes. If we’re not on a case, of course. If we are, it all goes out the window.”

  “What’s his...routine?”

  “To the dog park first thing in the morning. Half hour at least of sniffing and chasing.”

  “And bathrooming?” Gemma suggested wryly.

  “That, too,” Dante said with a half shrug. “He’ll use the patio in an emergency, but he thinks it’s undignified.”

  Gemma smothered a laugh, half at what he’d said and half at the fact that he was obviously serious. She glanced at Flash and realized if there was a dog who could do a pained-with-the-indignity-of-it expression, it was probably this one.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “the park’s a lot easier, with the bag station right there to clean up. Then home and breakfast. Another longer foray midday, or a stop at the training center for an off-leash run if I can fit it in. Then a good, long tug-of-war session before dinner. Then back to the park once more at night, and he’s good.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly she felt compelled to say, “He’s almost as much work as the babies.”

  “Nah. No diapers. Do have to wash his face a lot, though.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Those wrinkles serve a purpose in his work, but they also have to be kept really clean. And he’s not a...er, tidy eater. Or drinker.”

  She glanced toward the kitchen. “Hence the big rain mat under his water and food bowls?”

  “Exactly.”

  She looked back at him. “You don’t have two kids, you have three.”

  He blinked, then smiled wryly. “I guess I do. And this one drools more.”

  “The towel,” she said, realizing suddenly. “That’s why you have all those towels in the car, and one in your back pocket.” She said it before she realized he might ask why she’d been looking at his back pockets. And the only answer she had—that she’d been ogling his backside because it was a particularly fine one—would embarrass them both.

  But he didn’t even blink. He laughed. As if it had never occurred to him she might be appreciating. Which interested her even more.

  “You mean the one that makes me look like I work in an old-time gas station? Pretty much. Half my laundry’s his.” Then, with a sideways look at her, he asked, “Want to change your mind?”

  She looked at Flash again. �
�Is he my responsibility, too?”

  “Nah. He’s mine. And if anything happens, everybody knows to see that he gets to the training center. Patience will look after him. Or Micah Shaw, the other bloodhound handler. Flash and Chunk get along fine.”

  “Okay.”

  Belatedly the real meaning of what he’d just said hit her. If anything happens. He meant if anything happened to him. And he was a cop, so that was more than a throwaway comment—it was a genuine possibility.

  “What?” he asked, and she realized she was staring at him.

  “Nothing,” she said hastily, looking away.

  But her realization stayed with her, and most of the time when she was unpacking her things in the small but workable guest room, she was wondering why on earth anyone would pick this job, what it was about some people that led them to put their life on the line so others could not think about the ugliness in life. She was guiltier than most, she supposed—her upbringing had sheltered her from most of that. The K9 unit had always been on the periphery of her life, but she’d never thought about the real nitty-gritty of it all.

  And the idea of Dante getting hurt—or worse—was unsettling in a way she didn’t quite understand.

  It must be the idea of the twins being orphaned all over again. Who would take them then? Was there other family? Dante had said they all skated on the wrong side of the law, so could they be trusted with those two precious babies? He’d thought about what would happen to Flash but probably hadn’t even had time to think about what would happen to the babies.

  She dropped the sweater she’d been about to slip into a drawer on the bed and walked back out to the living room. Dante was on the couch, his laptop on his outstretched legs. She saw some kind of video running, although it was in black and white and oddly choppy. The moment he realized she was there—which was the instant she stepped out of the hallway—he hit a key and blanked the screen.

  He’d obviously retrieved the computer from the den, so she asked first, “Are they still asleep?”

  He looked up. “Yes. Thankfully.”

  She nodded, hesitated.

  “Problem?” he asked. “Room not grand enough?”

  She stiffened. Glared at him. “That was nasty. And uncalled-for.”

  She saw him let out a breath. “You’re right. Sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge.”

  “With reason,” she said, surprised that he’d apologized so easily. Dev never, ever apologized. He’d buy flowers or take her to dinner, but he never actually said the words. It didn’t matter, she always told herself. He was showing it, not saying it, and that was more important anyway. Wasn’t it?

  “There are bath towels in the cabinet in the bathroom,” he said.

  “I saw. Am I sharing them with the dog?”

  He laughed. “No, that’s too much closeness even for me. I keep his separate.”

  “Will he be insulted if I say that’s a relief?”

  “I doubt it.” He tilted his head, looked at her curiously. “Have you ever had a dog?”

  “Not really. I’ve been around them but not had one of my own.”

  “Cat?”

  “No.”

  She managed not to say she hated the shedding, fur all over her clothes. She wouldn’t have even hesitated to say it before, even if it did sound a bit prissy, but she found she didn’t want him to thank that of her. She wondered if Flash shed. She supposed so—almost all dogs did, didn’t they?

  “Prepare for a shedding storm, then,” Dante said, startling her. This wasn’t the first time he’d echoed her actual thoughts. Was the guy a mind reader? Or was this some kind of cop trick? “And I’d suggest you not sit there,” he added, gesturing at the large, overstuffed chair nearest the fireplace. “It’s that color for a reason. It’s his.”

  “Oh.” That was kind of sweet, actually. And it did almost match the dark color of most of Flash’s coat. “I didn’t know. I haven’t seen him in it.”

  “He’s not comfortable enough yet, what with all the changes. The girls, you,” he said. “He wants to be on the ground, where he can move more quickly.”

  She glanced at the big dog, who at the moment was on the floor near the doorway to the den. He didn’t look like he would do anything quickly.

  “Yeah,” Dante said, “I know he looks like a lump, and he’d lick you to death sooner than bite you, but he can move when he wants to.”

  “Good to know,” she said rather faintly.

  “He’s not used to sharing his space.” He gave her a slightly wary look. “And frankly, neither am I. So if I seem a little jumpy, that’s why.”

  “It is...going to be close quarters,” she said carefully.

  “When things level out a bit and I get a handle on dealing with the twins, you’ll get some time off,” he said, as if he were trying to sound encouraging. “Enough to go see friends, or go shopping or whatever.”

  She didn’t get angry; it wasn’t the first time she’d encountered this assumption of what her life must consist of. It seemed almost universal, that concept of the life of a twenty-six-year-old heiress. And up until she’d started to work on the fund-raisers, she couldn’t deny it was close to the truth. And he was so sincere about assuring her it wouldn’t always be this chaotic, she couldn’t help but tease him a little.

  “And when might that happen?”

  He looked as if he were actually calculating, as if there were some kind of formula that would work when there were two—no, three, sorry, Flash—other beings with their own ideas involved.

  “A couple of weeks, maybe?” he finally said.

  “You sure about that?”

  His mouth quirked. “Hopeful?” he suggested.

  “Overly optimistic,” she suggested in turn.

  He let out an audible sigh. “Probably.”

  “Don’t panic until, say, six months. If you haven’t gotten it together by then, you may need to get a real mom.”

  She said it with all seriousness, but he finally heard the undertone. For a moment his brow furrowed, but then he let out a chuckle. “And where do I go to do that?”

  “‘Rent-a-Mom’? There must be an app for it.”

  He really laughed then. “You make it sound like a dating app.”

  “There’s that, too. Post a photo of yourself and I’m sure a long line of women would jump to apply.”

  His gaze sharpened. Then, a little too neutrally, he said, “Like you did?”

  She felt herself flush. Again. She, who rarely got embarrassed. “I,” she said with an edge, “applied to help with the children. Not be a...a girlfriend applicant.” Although she was certain he’d have no shortage of those if he wanted.

  Belatedly, the implications of what he’d said before hit her. He wasn’t used to sharing his space.

  “Speaking of girlfriends, is there one I need to meet? And is she going to be...unhappy with me being here?”

  “Not an issue,” he said. Answering but not answering.

  “She doesn’t exist, or she won’t be upset?” She was pushing, she knew, but it suddenly seemed crucial to know. And she didn’t dare think about why.

  “She doesn’t exist,” he snapped, “and if she did and got upset, given the circumstances, she wouldn’t exist any longer.”

  It took her a second to work it out. And it didn’t surprise her that Dante Mancuso wouldn’t put up with a woman who didn’t get that this sudden acquisition of two orphaned babies had to be the most important thing right now. And that pleased her for reasons she didn’t yet fully understand.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she said softly.

  She left him to figure out which part her answer applied to and went to check on the girls. And every step of the way she was denying to herself that her answer had applied to both.

  That she was glad that phantom girlfriend didn�
�t exist.

  * * *

  Was it insane that the first thing he’d noticed was that she’d indeed lost the stiletto heels? Which of course meant he’d noticed her feet were bare. And small. And nicely arched.

  And when the hell had feet become a thing?

  Dante rubbed a hand over eyes gritty from lack of sleep. When he’d dived into this finding-a-nanny project, he’d only thought of how desperately he needed help. And to be honest, in the back of his mind, he’d had someone more...motherly in mind. Maybe even grandmotherly. Like Mrs. Nelson, who’d been watching them before. Maybe he should have called her—maybe she could have used the job. But then, she had that sick relative. But maybe they were recovered now, and—

  “They’re still sleeping,” Gemma said quietly as she came back, sliding the pocket door partially closed, leaving it open enough that they could hear if the twins woke and started fussing.

  “It’s a miracle,” he said wearily, not looking at her.

  “It’s after ten. Maybe you should be sleeping while they are. While you can.”

  She had a point, he had to admit. “Good idea.”

  He slapped the laptop closed and stood up. Flash lifted his head. “Leash,” he said. The dog lumbered to his feet.

  “You’re taking him out now?” she asked.

  “It’s now or 3:00 a.m.” He smiled wryly. “And believe me, him howling at that hour will wake up not just the twins but everybody within about five square miles.”

  “Oh.” She looked at him consideringly. “When you got Flash, did you ever think about getting a house? With a yard?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “Still do. But he’s adapted pretty well, as long as he gets his exercise. He seems happy.” Or at least he had, before the girls—all three of them—had disrupted his life.

  She watched the dog amble over to the door and pick up the heavy leather lead with the heavy-duty clasp. He brought it back and sat politely at Dante’s feet.

  “He’s very well trained,” she said.

  “Yes. Whether he decides to obey that training when not actually working is less certain.” When her gaze shot to his face, he grinned. “Flash has a mind of his own. He obeys best when he’s getting something out of the deal.”