Colton's Deadly Engagement

by Addison Fox

  His name had never sounded sweeter—nor had a woman ever tasted better—as he pleasured her. Long, lush strokes with his tongue. A hot tease of his breath against sensitive flesh. And the addition of his fingers to send her over the edge of pleasure.

  He watched her, gratified at the amazing responsiveness, before she pulled him close for a hot, carnal kiss, clutching at his shoulders as she found her release.

  But it was the whisper that followed against his ear—half moan, half plea—that let him know he’d not last much longer.

  “Now, Finn. I need you. Want you—” she practically purred against his throat “—now.”

  The sudden realization he’d left protection halfway across the room had him pulling back, determined to reach his pants when she stopped him. “The drawer. I...um...” A blush stained her cheeks, adding to the already pretty flush that painted her skin. “I wanted to be prepared.”

  Despite the demands of his body or perhaps because of them, laughter bubbled up, swift and immediate. “What was that I mentioned earlier?”

  “About?”

  “You, Darby Gage.” He leaned in and pressed a hard kiss to her lips before reaching for the drawer. “I told you that you were full of surprises. How happy I am to prove you right.”

  Her smile was bright enough to power half of Red Ridge as he tore open the condom packet and made quick work of putting it on. “I told you I wanted to be prepared.”

  “Far be it from me to argue with a woman who knows her own mind.”

  “Good.” She reached down to stroke the length of him, guiding him toward her body. As he found her sweet warmth, he sank in deep, shocked anew by how good she felt.

  But it was as they began to move, at first tentative then faster as they picked up on each other’s rhythm, did the pleasure expand. Build. Grow.

  As Darby’s release built, his own was nearly upon him. Harder, faster, he thrust, welcomed each and every time by the amazing woman in his arms. His body tightened, his ability to hold on nearly giving out when he heard the change in her breathing. Her arms tightened and her back arched, and Finn felt the telltale muscles intimately sheathing him pull him in, ready to drown him in her body.

  Finn gave in then, his release coming on him fast as the crack of a whip and doubly powerful.

  All he’d imagined earlier paled in comparison to the real thing and as his body emptied into hers, Finn knew the truth.

  He didn’t just have more. He had everything.

  Chapter 16

  Finn ran his hands over her skin as he held Darby close and desperately tried to bury the sense of anger that washed through him. The sensation was foreign and had no place in bed with them, especially after the warm, deep sense of satisfaction that still filled him from their lovemaking. But, damn, if he could let go of the ire or the upset that anyone had caused her a moment of pain or self-doubt.

  She was perfect and the fact that Bo Gage had been such an ass to her bothered him more than he could say.

  He’d never been happy for a crime committed against one of his constituents—and he certainly wasn’t going to start with murder—but it was damn hard to feel any sense of sympathy for a jerk who’d used people and discarded them when he was done. Which was exactly what Bo had done to Darby.

  Marriage took two—he knew that better than anyone—but when one behaved in a way that was pure betrayal, it was hard to see the injured party as equally at fault. He and Mary might have had their issues, but he’d remained faithful to her for the duration of their marriage, including the time before their divorce was finalized. He’d made a commitment of fidelity to her and he’d honored it.

  “Who are you mad at right now?”

  “What?”

  Darby’s voice was sleepy but her eyes were sharp as she lifted her head to look at him. “I can practically hear the anger in your head. It’s got your chest all tight and your arms keep tensing up.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “You are, and you’re a crummy liar to boot.” She sat up, her hair framing her face in a messy tumble. “What has you bothered?”

  “I don’t want to upset you.”

  “Okay. Then I promise not to get upset.”

  “You will.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  Finn knew the conversation was too far gone to pull back so he gave himself a moment to prepare his thoughts and hopefully say things in a way that would minimize the pain.

  “I’m mad at Bo.”

  “Why?”

  “Before. The way you felt. You’re amazing and incredible and beautiful, and the idea that anyone made you question that... It upsets me.”

  “You’re right.”

  Where he expected something—even if it was a raised voice or a lone tear—nothing manifested. All he saw was complete and absolute agreement.

  “And you’re not upset?”

  “I was before. But right now I feel stupidly happy.” She patted him on the cheek, her wry smile loopy around the edges. “Don’t worry. It won’t last. But while it does, I refuse to ruin it.”

  And there it was again. Surprise.

  “Remember what I said before?” he asked her.

  “About?”

  “About being full of surprises.” When she only nodded, he added, “Look at my smug face and count this as one of those times.”

  “I’d rather kiss your smug face.”

  He pulled her down on top of his chest, his hand at the back of her head to guide her to his mouth. He thought that she had a rather smug smile of her own.

  “By all means, Ms. Gage. Don’t let me stop you.”

  * * *

  Finn made a few stops on his way to work on Monday, the memories of the night before going a long way to battle the lack of sleep. Darby had been a revelation and making love to her was more than he could have ever imagined. Better than his most elaborate fantasies, and he’d had more than a few.

  Which made the shift in headspace from a gorgeous, responsive woman in his arms to a hunt for a cold-blooded killer that much more jarring.

  But no matter how wonderful it was to escape for a few hours with nothing to focus on except Darby, there was still a killer on the loose in Red Ridge.

  He and his team had split up all the tips that had come in and he’d followed up on several, canvassing Red Ridge and the surrounding county, none of which had paid dividends. The first two had some merit, suggesting his cousin Demi, had been sighted a few towns over. The next one had been a fishing expedition on the part of a tipper, hungry for information about the case. By the fourth, he hadn’t even gotten past the front door, the woman who called it in one of the precinct’s “regulars.” The woman wasn’t a menace, but she was a pest, calling the police out for everything from what she believed was the scent of gas to a perceived slight from a neighbor.

  Finn kept his tone stern, even as pity filled him for the slight woman on the other side of her front door. She wasn’t that old—a recent check of her license had her in her midthirties—yet she’d developed a strange addiction to calling the precinct. “What was it you wanted to share with us, Lydia?”

  “Hello, Chief. I know you’ve been keeping watch out for Demi Colton. I wanted to tell you I think she’s guilty.”

  This was a new one. Lydia typically complained about neighbors and frequently told him she was prepared to make a citizen’s arrest for noise violations. “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Please. It’s cold out. You’re welcome to come in.”

  He nodded his head but stayed firmly put. “That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but I don’t want to take up too much of your time. But if you do have information on Demi Colton, I’d like to know about it.”

  The woman seemed flustered by his kindness and a slight flush crept up her neck. “It’s a sense, really. I’d seen her around town before s
he fled and she’s a hard woman, Chief. It would be so easy to see her killing men for sport.”

  “So you don’t actually have information?”

  Lydia seemed affronted. “Why, that’s information. I’m a concerned citizen making sure I’m keeping the police up-to-date.”

  “Of course.” Finn pulled out his notebook and made a show of writing down what she’d told him. He also made a note to flag the slightly daffy Lydia in Lorelei’s files. They’d always respond to a citizen’s needs—he refused to ignore someone simply because he or she was a bit off—but his officers needed to go into a situation with their eyes wide open.

  He was ready to go when Lydia spoke up again. “Well, I might have something else.”

  For the briefest moment he could have sworn something sly flickered in her hazel gaze, but the sense was gone as quickly as it had come.

  “Your help would be very appreciated.”

  “I’ve also seen that Darby Gage around town. Word is that she hated that her ex-husband was getting remarried. It wouldn’t be too hard to think she wanted revenge.”

  Patience at an end, Finn nearly said something, holding back only at the last moment. It was only because of Lydia’s long history of contact and the sheer sadness that he felt for her that he held his ground. “Ms. Gage has grieved the loss of her ex-husband. Regardless and based on police work, the precinct has ruled her out as a suspect.”

  “Oh.”

  “Thank you for your time, Lydia.”

  Her hand snaked out and, for a second, Finn thought she was going to take his hand, but she pulled hers back at the last moment. “I know you’ll catch the killer, Chief Colton. I have faith in you. From the bottom of my heart, I do.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Finn smiled at the odd woman before heading out to continue his work for the day. It didn’t take long for the annoying exchange to become a distant memory in his mind.

  * * *

  Darby checked the food in the oven with a meat thermometer, pleased to see her pot roast coming along nicely. She’d spent the past few days in a haze and it felt good to do something in her own house. With no one around to notice the small hearts and cupids floating around her head in circles.

  “Or the dopey smile that’s likely been riding your face,” she added to herself before shooting a look at Penny and Lucy. The dogs had taken up sentinel duty in the kitchen, no doubt praying a fervent canine prayer the oven would open of its own accord and spew its contents in their direction.

  “Yeah, you’ll get some, too. I can’t feel this goofy and happy and not share with you both. Lotte, too, when she and Finn get here.”

  She’d already anticipated the quiet dinner she and Finn would share. The public dates and show they’d kept up for all of Red Ridge had served its purpose—and she knew they’d be back at it tomorrow night—but she’d made the decision to keep Valentine’s Day all to themselves. The mention of a home-cooked meal had Finn quickly agreeing.

  Not that going out with the man was a hardship. She’d been cognizant of their pretense in the past, but now all she could feel was the sheer joy of being with him. And of the desire to shout to the rooftops that she was with this man, in every hour either of them could possibly drag free.

  Their days were spent focused on their jobs. Hers on Lucy’s breeding schedule and making contact with Bo’s former clients to see who might be interested in her first litter. Finn’s on the continued hunt for the Groom Killer. The lack of clues remained a problem, as did the continued disappearance of Finn’s cousin Demi.

  But he’d find her. He had to.

  Even if it got harder and harder to believe as one day rolled into the next. What was Demi hiding? And if she really were innocent, why didn’t she believe the RRPD could protect her?

  Darby questioned the woman’s motives as she finished up a few website updates at the kitchen table. She wasn’t the world’s best web designer, but she’d played around with a few programs and had given the site for the breeding business a nice makeover. That and the pot roast and she’d call it a damn productive day.

  Both had also kept her mind running in the background with thoughts of how to help Finn.

  She’d lived in Red Ridge all her life. Surely she had enough knowledge of her fellow citizens to be of some use beyond the public ruse of dating Finn. But because of knowing the townsfolk all her life—or maybe in spite of it—she couldn’t shake the mystery of Demi Colton, no matter how many ways she twisted and turned the puzzle over in her mind.

  Darby knew firsthand how infuriating Bo Gage could be. And while she hadn’t been pregnant with his child, she had been married to him. So if you compared life choices, she and Demi had at least a common frame of reference. Even if she mentally added the even deeper importance of a child to the mix, she simply couldn’t see being mad enough to kill the man. Angry, yes. Disappointed, absolutely.

  But murder?

  Even with time to think about it and consider Demi as the one who’d put a bullet into Bo, the woman just didn’t seem like a match for the crime. That only became more true when you considered the second victim. Demi might have a personal motive against Bo, but that flew out the window when Michael Hayden was added to the mix.

  Killing Bo would be personal. Killing Michael would be twisted and sick. Had Demi just snapped and was going around killing grooms on the nights before their weddings? All because Bo had broken their engagement after a week? When they’d only been together a few months anyway?

  But they hadn’t discovered anyone else with motive, obvious or otherwise. Two dead bodies and next to nothing to go on. Even with the new direction Darby and Finn’s relationship had taken, and the enjoyment of their time together, the endless questions haunted him. She saw it in his eyes and knew it kept him awake long after she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

  Which was why she’d demanded that Valentine’s Day be private and just for the two of them. The meat-and-potatoes meal she’d crafted—pot roast and Idaho reds—was as down-the-line “man food” as you could get. The appreciative smile he gave her a few hours later when he and Lotte walked into the kitchen reinforced his interest in the food—a sure sign she’d selected correctly on the meal.

  “That smells amazing.”

  “Thanks. Penny and Lucy have lain around the kitchen all afternoon, basking in the smell.”

  “I don’t blame them.” He kissed her, a sound, smacking smooch on the lips, before he bent to pet both dogs. Their immediate offering of their bellies suggested the pot roast wasn’t the only thing in the kitchen that had them happy and she enjoyed watching the ease with which he won over the ladies of the house.

  Worn circles filled the creases beneath his eyes and Darby considered asking him about the case. Since it was his time to relax and take a break, she filed it away, promising herself she’d find a way to bring it up later.

  He pulled her close for another kiss, long and lingering this time, and she let the thought flit away, content to sink into him and the quiet moment between them. It had been like that since Sunday, the easy, generous lover she’d taken showing his affection and consideration in a million different ways.

  It was humbling to realize how quickly she’d come to crave that. The soft, yet deliberate, touches and the easy way of being together.

  She’d already set the small, drop-leaf table for dinner and pointed toward the wine on the counter. “You still on duty or would you like a glass of wine?”

  “We’re in for the night. I’ll open it up.”

  Finn focused on the wine and she pulled dinner from the oven, their domesticity yet another element that was easy. Companionable.

  And with that realization came another.

  She was in love with Finn Colton.

  The pan tilted in her hands as she bobbled the pot roast, nearly answering the dogs’ prayers.

  “Easy there, D
arby. Do you have it?” He’d moved next to her, his hands nearly to hers before she sidestepped him.

  “Yes!” she squeaked before gripping the pan harder. “Don’t touch.”

  “You okay?”

  “Of course. I just don’t want you to get burned.”

  He snagged a few hand towels off the counter and helped her settle the pan on the stove top. “I’m fine. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Of course.” Her heart pounded in her throat and she could have sworn they heard her heartbeat three towns over. “I’m fine. Just a bad grip. It’s fine.”

  “The pack over here is disappointed your hands are so steady.” He pointed to Penny, Lucy and Lotte, all intently focused on the stove.

  Darby fought for some sense of equilibrium and grabbed at the silly conversation about the dogs. That was normal. Simple. And had nothing at all to do with love or feelings or an inappropriately needy response to the man you’d been sleeping with. “They’ve been hoping for a taste since before I put it in.”

  Oblivious to her upset, Finn snagged a roll she’d left covered on the counter. “Our opportunistic roommates. It must be hell not to have opposable thumbs.”

  The silly comment was enough to have her laughing and she vowed to push the thoughts of love from her mind. She’d pull them out later, when Finn wasn’t around and she could truly analyze them. It was Valentine’s Day, after all. She was feeling fanciful and silly.

  That was it.

  It had to be.

  * * *

  Finn finished loading the dishwasher at Darby’s insistence that no one cleaned dishes in the sink on a holiday. And since he’d equally insisted the one who cooked the meal wasn’t stuck cleaning it up, he’d sent her into the living room while he worked. His stomach was full and the meal, shared with an amazing woman, had been one of the best of his life.

  So why was he still so riled up? Was he giving off vibes?

  Whatever weird moment had gripped her earlier, when he’d first gotten to her place, had passed. Their meal had been fun and lighthearted, with both of them talking about some of the funny and lovable dogs who hadn’t made it through K-9 training.