Colton's Twin Secrets

by Justine Davis

  Gemma flicked off the light and lay back on the pillow. By the time she finally felt sleepy again, she had convinced herself it was simply that she hadn’t seen Dev for a couple of days. When she saw him again—when she would present her proof that he’d been wrong, that she would be a great, hands-on mom—things would get back to normal, back to where they should be.

  But when she at last fell asleep, it wasn’t Dev she dreamed about.

  Chapter 14

  “Hey, Mancuso, I thought you were on daddy leave!”

  Dante turned, ready to fire back at the ribbing. He was already edgy, and it wouldn’t take much to push him over. For a guy who claimed his body’s natural responses didn’t rule him, he’d slept—or not slept—like utter crap last night. But when he belatedly—which showed him how tired he was—realized it was Katie Parsons, he bit back the words. Not because she couldn’t take it, but because she was the department tech ace, and he needed her just now.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. Then his gaze slid to her hair; she’d taken last week’s blond and turned the tips a rather bright and obviously unnatural blue. “Interesting,” he said.

  “Don’t like it? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Dead, apparently,” he said, too tired to even enumerate the number of levels that was true for.

  “Yeah,” she said sympathetically, “my sister was a wreck with just one baby. I can’t imagine two.”

  He gave a rueful shake of his head, but then cut to the point. “I need a favor,” he said.

  “I don’t babysit,” she replied hastily.

  He smiled while wondering what the girls would make of the two-tone hair. “Got that covered, thanks.”

  “I heard,” she said, eyebrows rising. “Gemma Colton? Really?”

  He’d known word would get around quickly, but he hadn’t expected to have to deal with it the minute he walked in the door. “Yeah, really.”

  “Wow. I never would have thought... She’s really doing it? I mean, is she any good at it?”

  “They’re still breathing,” he said drily. “Which is more than I could guarantee if it was just me.”

  Parsons looked suddenly contrite. “I shouldn’t be joking. I’m sorry about your brother and sister-in-law.”

  “Me, too.” And it was the truth, even if he was just as sorry at how Dom, even in death, had managed to blow up his brother’s life. Again. “Listen, I need you to run a correlation check for me.”

  “Sure. Chief said you might need stuff. What?” She sounded almost eager. Probably the sympathy thing.

  “Work schedules and cases caught since Monday morning, tagging those with evidence booked in.”

  True to form, she didn’t question; for her the job was the challenge—she didn’t need or want all the pieces, just her part. It made her invaluable, and trusted. “Give me fifteen,” she said. “Only because I have to drop something off at the chief’s office first and that’ll kill five.”

  He grinned at her. Only Katie Parsons could blithely promise something like that for a department the size of RRPD in essentially ten minutes. “I’ll stop by on my way out.”

  She was as good as her word, and when he had finished grabbing some things he needed from his desk and then threaded his way through the various greetings ranging from expressing condolences to those who treated him like it was any other day—he preferred the latter, he found—and reached Katie’s small domain, she had the data he’d asked for ready.

  “Want me to email it, or you want it on a flash drive?”

  Dante hesitated. Then Finn’s words echoed in his head. Right now only you, Ron Fox and I know. And it was someone inside, probably with access to the department network.

  “Flash drive,” he said. “And you never did it,” he added.

  She gave him a scornful look. “Of course not.”

  She inserted a drive about the size of his thumbnail into a slot and started the transfer. She had a drawer full of the things, he knew, just for such instances. But when the files had finished, she didn’t disconnect it. Instead she glanced up at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Do you want... I have some video...”

  It was unlike her to be so hesitant, and that gave him a clue. “The crash?”

  She nodded. “It’s from the convenience store cameras, down on the corner, so it’s not close or clear, but...”

  “Yes. Please.”

  It was all he could manage. She copied the file over, then ejected the drive, stood up and handed it to him.

  “I really am sorry. My sister and I aren’t particularly close, but I know how I’d feel if she died.”

  He couldn’t think of a thing to say, so he only nodded, then patted her arm rather awkwardly. It seemed to be enough, because she smiled then went back to work.

  He would be very glad, he thought, when this passed. Everybody knew he and Dominic hadn’t been close, which only made it more difficult to know what to say. Which was why he preferred the ones who didn’t say anything, saving him from having to think of something appropriate to say in return.

  Oddly, it had been Shane Colton, whom he’d run into on his way out, who’d hit the right note, saying only, “Condolences, if you need them. If not, forget it.” Then again, maybe not oddly; if there was anyone who knew about the vagaries of life and family, it was Shane. He’d learned the hard way, coming up from the Pour House branch of the family.

  When he got back home, it was to an empty place. Very empty. A note on the kitchen counter told him Gemma had taken the girls out for a drive. Thoughtful of her to let him know, although he wondered why she hadn’t just texted. This must be why she’d asked him to help her move the car seats to her vehicle; she’d wanted to take them out.

  Or needed to get herself out.

  For a moment he just stood there, listening to the quiet and wondering how the hell things had changed so much so fast. How could a place that had seemed comfortable and like home for years now seem like it was...missing something? In the space of three days? His life had been T-boned as completely as his brother’s stolen car, and it—he—would never be the same.

  He wondered if the twins would even remember their parents. Did permanent memories even exist at their age? And when they were older, when they inevitably started asking about them, what the hell was he going to say? The truth, that their parents had been petty criminals, and most of their other relatives were either dead or in prison?

  He walked into the den, stopped and stared down at the crib. His nieces. His family. His blood.

  Then maybe they’re lucky they ended up with you.

  Gemma’s words suddenly came back to him. At the time he’d blown them off as just something you said in a difficult situation. But now they seemed to take on new meaning.

  If the twins’ lives had continued as they’d been, centered around Dom’s various criminal efforts, what would have happened? How would they have turned out? Would they have followed in their parents’ footsteps, into that shady world that had been the Mancusos’ for decades? Or would they have rebelled, as he had? Or maybe one of each?

  They would not be in that world now. He would see to that. And suddenly the girls represented more than just the total disruption of his life. They represented a chance for him to make peace with his family and who they were. And to see that the Mancuso name didn’t always stand for the wrong side of the law.

  Had Dom known this? Had he chosen Dante instead of someone else for that reason, or simply because there was no one else? He didn’t know. Wouldn’t ever know.

  But accepting his responsibility as the chosen guardian for his nieces suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

  * * *

  Gemma was very glad Dante’s condo was on the ground floor. She couldn’t imaging lugging all this stuff and the twins up a flight of stairs.
Even in her low-heeled snow boots.

  She had to set one of the girls down—Lucia this time—to wrestle with the key to the front door. But before she could get the lock turned, the door swung open from the inside.

  “Hi,” she said, rather breathlessly.

  “Hi,” he returned, already reaching for the carrier she’d set down. “Get inside, it looks like it’s about to rain.”

  She hurried past him, smiling at his concern. He really was a nice guy, she thought. A gentleman. She’d bet if he was with a woman, she’d never feel like he’d forgotten she was around, like Dev sometimes seemed to.

  “Hey, little one,” he said, smiling at—she checked the eyebrows—Zita, the one he’d just unstrapped from her carrier. The baby batted out at him. He caught her tiny hand and kissed it. Zita giggled.

  Girls of all ages, apparently.

  She gave herself an inward shake. It had been a sweet, loving gesture toward his niece.

  “Where’d you go?” he asked, crouching down to tickle Lucia’s chubby cheek. Gemma wasn’t used to being questioned about her whereabouts—Dev never asked, and for a moment she wondered if it was because he didn’t care enough about her to want to know.

  Dante only wants to know where you took the girls—he’s just being a good guardian.

  She wasn’t sure why it mattered that she tell herself that, but it seemed to.

  “Shopping, first,” she said, gesturing at the big new leather bag she’d picked up. When he looked at it, puzzled, she nudged it open to show him the clever organizer inside that now held diapers, wipes, lotion, spare clothes and everything else the website she’d read said was essential at all times. “Better than the pink baby ducks,” she said.

  “They did look...unnatural.” He was smiling now. She smiled back. She was starting to feel more confident.

  “Then I stopped by my father’s place.” He stood. His eyebrows lifted in obvious surprise. Then lowered quickly. She knew perfectly well many people’s reaction to her father and quickly added, “He wasn’t there.”

  “Oh. Then why...?”

  “I traded cars.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “My little coupe was way too hard to get them in and out of.” She gestured toward the parking area out front, where the luxury SUV now sat in the space assigned to the condo.

  “That’s yours, too?”

  “It’s more of a family car. We can all use it when we need the room or the four-wheel drive.”

  “Oh.”

  They got the girls into the playpen, held up a succession of the toys she’d brought and gave them both the first one they’d reached for. Which fortunately had been different ones.

  Dante disappeared for a moment, then came back and handed Gemma something. She took it, realized it was a garage door opener and looked at him questioningly.

  “Park in the garage. You’ll need to for you and the girls—it’s getting colder.”

  “But what about you?”

  “Flash and I can tough it out,” he said with a crooked grin that did odd things to her pulse rate. “Especially now that I’ll be here more.” The bloodhound’s head had come up at his name. Dante looked at him. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll preheat the SUV for you—that’s the best I can do.”

  The dog put his head down and let out a very put-upon-sounding sigh. Gemma laughed, glad to be able to hide the odd feelings that were rocketing around inside her. Giving them the garage, going out in the cold himself to preheat his own vehicle for the dog’s comfort...yes, Dante Mancuso was a very nice guy.

  “I... Thank you,” she said.

  “Let’s switch the cars now,” he said.

  She glanced at the girls. “They should be okay alone for one minute, shouldn’t they?”

  He stopped in the midst of reaching for his keys. Looked at the playpen. Sighed. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  He slowly shook his head. “No. I’ve heard it too many times from distraught parents. ‘I only turned my back for a minute.’ ‘I was only outside for a minute.’”

  She could only imagine the circumstances under which he’d heard those words. She stared at the tiny girls. “I think I’m only beginning to realize the enormity of what got dropped on you.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “You have to rethink everything, don’t you?”

  “When to sleep, shower, take a leak—Sorry,” he said, cutting himself off and looking embarrassed, as if he’d said something crude.

  “I did grow up with a brother,” she reminded him. “And we were pretty close. I’ve heard worse.”

  “I can’t imagine it from Blake Colton.”

  She waved a hand. “Ha. He’s like that now, but at fourteen he discovered every vulgar word in the language. Most of it, sad to say, from our father.”

  He gave her the curious look she’d come to recognize. “He’s your full brother, right?”

  She nodded. “That and age are probably why we were so tight. It’s a complicated family.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  She looked at him consideringly. “No more complicated than yours, though, it seems.”

  He grimaced. “Maybe. But still a world away.”

  “Juliette speaks highly of you.”

  He gave her a level look. “I like her, too. We have a lot in common. From the same side of the tracks.”

  “And you both pulled yourself out of it,” she said. “That takes work.”

  “What it takes is stubbornness.”

  “That, too,” she agreed easily.

  “So about the cars,” he said, returning to the subject abruptly enough to tell her he didn’t care to discuss his past with her. “I’ll go move mine out into a visitor space, come back, you go put yours in the garage, come inside, then I’ll move mine into the assigned slot.”

  She nodded, gave the girls a glance. “Who knew such tiny things could drive you crazy with simply parking a car?”

  He let out a low chuckle, and his tension vanished. “I’m going to need a degree in logistics.”

  Flash stirred, trudged out to the kitchen for a drink. “Too bad you can’t get him to carry the girls. Or at least one of them.”

  Dante looked at the dog, then suddenly looked thoughtful. “You know, I’ll bet it could be done.”

  “Seriously? I was only joking.”

  “No, I mean it. He carries his own supplies when we’re hiking, including water and food, and I’ll bet they don’t weigh any more than what he’s used to.”

  “But they wiggle. And make noise.”

  “He’s pretty unflappable. He just gripes.”

  She couldn’t help smiling at the way he talked about the dog as if he were human. She was the first to admit dogs had their own personalities—she just hadn’t ever been around one enough to attribute human characteristics to him. But she had to admit, Flash invited it.

  They got the cars rearranged easily enough and the girls seemed entertained by their rapid switching, although the consistent presence of the dog seemed to keep them settled.

  “He has a calming influence on them, doesn’t he?” she asked when they were done.

  “Seems that way. Whatever it is, I’ll take it. Heck, I’ll take any help I can get.”

  “Obviously,” she said, making sure she was grinning when she said it. And as she’d expected, his head snapped around. And slowly, he smiled. And it was a very good smile.

  “You,” he said with a slight shake of his head, “are not at all what I expected.”

  “That’s okay. Neither are you.”

  For a long moment they stood there, gazes locked. She had no idea how long—her perception of time, indeed, even her surroundings seemed to have faded away into vagueness. She realized she was aware of her heartbeat in a strange, intense way. She felt th
e strongest urge to take a step toward him in the same moment he leaned in slightly, as if feeling the same urge.

  His cell phone rang, shattering the moment. She should be glad of that. She had no business feeling...whatever this was for a man who wasn’t Dev. So she should be grateful for the interruption.

  She wasn’t sure she was.

  Chapter 15

  “Mancuso.”

  He was surprised at how steady his voice was when he answered. He had no idea what that had been a moment ago, but it had been...intense.

  “Dr. Maria Sprague, at the ME’s office,” the voice in his ear said.

  Damn. He hadn’t even looked at the screen, he’d been so rattled, or he would have been prepared. “Oh. Yeah.” He shook his head sharply. Braced himself, knowing what this had to be. “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve got the autopsy results on Mr. and Mrs. Mancuso,” the woman said gently. “I’ve emailed the full report to you, but I thought you’d want to know there’s no evidence of any COD except the injuries from the crash.”

  Hearing the names jabbed at him, but he clenched his jaw, then released it, regaining control. He’d watched that damned video of the crash enough times he’d already known this in his gut. And, as much as was possible given his brother’s dealings, he was sure they hadn’t been targeted.

  “Any contributing factors?”

  “No. They both had a small amount of alcohol in their system. Well under the limit, probably no more than a glass of wine an hour or so before.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Not that’s immediately obvious. I’ve sent out for toxicology tests, of course, but I don’t expect there will be anything unusual. I’ve very sorry, Officer Mancuso, but it seems to have just been a tragic accident.”

  If you didn’t count the shooter who caused it.

  He fought down the memory of hearing those bullets shattering glass, then looking out and seeing the crash the shooter had caused. The crash that had decimated his brother’s car, and his nieces’ lives.

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “They can be released to whatever funeral service you’ve selected whenever you wish.”