Colton Family Rescue

by Justine Davis

  He looked at the little girl, listened to her chatter as she tried to convince her mother she really, truly needed all her ponies with her, so they would know she still loved them even if she was going to see a real one. Where would she be now, this charming child, if Jolie had stayed and his mother had followed through on her threats?

  Could his mother really do that to an innocent child?

  He grimaced inwardly at the absurdity of wondering if his mother could be that cruel to a child when he was also wondering if she was capable of murdering her husband of nearly thirty years.

  “I know it’s not up to Colton standards.”

  Snapped out of his thoughts, T.C. shifted his gaze to Jolie, who had come to a halt beside him. He saw the set of her jaw, saw her arms folded in front of her, knew she was ready to defend herself and her home.

  “I’m not Fowler, Jolie,” he said quietly. “I like it.”

  “Oh.”

  She didn’t relax, but he could sense the fight ebbing out of her.

  “And I really like the painting.”

  “So do I. It spoke to me, so I used it as inspiration.”

  He realized then that the colors in the painting were echoed in the room. That was the kind of thing Jolie had always excelled at, and he never even thought of. His mother had called in one of the most expensive decorators in the country when she redid the ranch house years ago, and the result didn’t have half the life and warmth this little apartment had. And if Jolie wasn’t lying about not touching the money, she’d likely done it on a much, much smaller budget.

  And his mother chose art that went with the décor. It would never occur to her that it could be the other way around.

  “Where did you get it?”

  “A friend painted it.”

  A friend? He caught himself looking for a signature on the canvas, not admitting even to himself that he was hoping to see an obviously female name. What did he expect, that she would still be alone? That she’d never gotten over him and was pining away for what she’d so callously thrown away?

  “I was ruining your life... I had no place in it... I would never, ever be good enough to be a Colton.”

  Funny how his parents’ version of what had transpired had been so different. According to them they’d merely had to wave the check in front of Jolie and she’d jumped at it, because it was what she’d been after all along. They’d neglected to mention the coercion and threats.

  His mother, he thought grimly, had some serious explaining to do.

  Emma came over to them, one of her clearly beloved ponies clutched to her chest. But T.C. didn’t miss her glance over at the broken window. He’d only distracted her from what had happened, not erased it.

  “What about when dark comes?” the child asked.

  T.C. crouched down so he could look her in the eye. Eyes so like her mother’s, wide and a silvery gray. “We won’t come back until it’s all safe and fixed here,” he said.

  The girl looked relieved. “Is it safe there?”

  “Good question,” Jolie said, startling him. He glanced up at her, realized she was thinking of what had apparently happened to his father. Which made her concern quite valid.

  He looked back at Emma. At her wide, innocent eyes. Made a snap decision. “Where we’re going is. Nobody goes there but me.”

  Emma smiled at him. His heart gave a little leap in his chest.

  “Kiddo, go get your purple sweater,” Jolie said. “You might need it.”

  T.C. straightened up as the child darted back to what obviously served as her room. Jolie was staring at him.

  “Just where are we going?”

  “You came to me,” he reminded her. “Are you going to decide now you don’t trust me?”

  “Just wondering if you had payback in mind.”

  He drew back slightly. Studied her for a long moment, saw the trace of fear hidden behind the determinedly cool expression.

  “I’m not Fowler,” he said again. “Besides, I’m not doing it for you.”

  The look she gave him then was the saddest thing he’d ever seen. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

  He didn’t know what to say to her, so he switched to business mode. “Do you have someone coming to fix the window?”

  “The landlord does.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Does that mean you?”

  “Not anymore. We turned it back to a local management company.” He left it at that. “You should bring anything of value.”

  She gestured at the tote bag on the chair next to the doll. “What there is is in there.”

  He said nothing about the fact that it was so small. And he knew without asking there would be no jewelry or other things with intrinsic value in that bag. More likely mementoes of Emma, and the few things she had of her parents.

  He glanced around the small apartment again. She had come a very long way from the orphaned kid she’d once been. And she was clearly determined that her daughter would have a better life than she’d had.

  Emma came running back, the rather bright purple sweater Jolie had requested in her hands. His gaze snagged on the boarded-up window once more, and for the first time it really hit him what Jolie must have felt like, the panic and horror she must have felt. It would have immobilized many people. But she had done what needed to be done, risked her own life to save her little girl’s.

  He looked back to where Jolie was folding the sweater more neatly, to fit in the small, battered suitcase. The same suitcase she’d arrived at the ranch with, and probably left with that night that seemed both an eon ago and yesterday.

  He might not be sure of anything else, but he knew one thing. Jolie would always do what needed to be done for Emma.

  Chapter 9

  Emma fell asleep in the backseat, and while she was glad the girl was sleeping after the long night, Jolie found she missed her chatter and humming. The silence in the car stretched out uncomfortably.

  At least, Jolie was uncomfortable.

  “How are Piper, Reid and Zane?” she finally asked.

  “Fine, getting by and in love.” His tone was clipped, on the edge of sharp. She doubted it was only because of the traffic he drove in every day and was quite used to.

  She supposed she didn’t deserve any more details than that. Now that action had been taken, now that she felt safe, her emotions had calmed enough for her to consider other aspects of her decision to come to him for help. Such as what he must have felt when she waltzed in out of the blue, to borrow a phrase his mother had often used. Whitney Colton had usually said it in the most scandalized tone she could manage, and usually in reference to anyone trying to unrightfully intrude on the Colton world. Which most certainly had then—and would now—included her.

  She’d known that, but she had come to him anyway. If she was as honest as she tried to be with herself, she had to admit she’d also known what would happen. He would see to the heart of the problem, take charge and make things happen. It was what he did. It was who he was.

  She was glad Piper was well; his adopted sister had always been nice to her, perhaps because she could easily have ended up living the kind of life Jolie had lived, if the Coltons had not adopted her. As for Reid, the firing of a disgraced cop after the death of his partner was news anywhere; when it was Dallas and the cop was a Colton, it was the biggest of news. And not the kind of headlines social-climber Whitney Colton would relish. Jolie wondered if she was making Reid’s life the living hell she’d once promised to make Emma’s. Probably not, since he was a “real” Colton. The news about half brother Zane surprised her, though; she’d always found the big, dark-eyed head of security for Colton Inc. more than a little intimidating. She must be quite a woman, whoever she was.

  “I saw an article about Alanna’s horse program for kids in trouble,” she said, fe
eling oddly as if she should account for not asking about his half sister, by his father’s first wife. “It had a photo of her, so I know she’s doing well.”

  “She is. She’s in love, too.”

  Jolie stifled a wistful sigh.

  “Is Ellen still with you?” She’d felt a particular kinship with Ellen Martin, the cook who was also a single mother, although her daughter, Daisy, was much older than Emma. She’d always admired the woman’s unfailingly sunny disposition in the face of...well, anything.

  “Yes. Daisy’s still horse-crazy, and that’s caused some adventures.”

  She had the feeling there was more to the story, but it felt awkward to pry. It was no longer her world, after all. Silence reigned again, and she was steeling herself to not feel pressured into breaking it when he said, “I notice you didn’t ask about Fowler or Marceline.”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “Fowler’s on or in the news almost every day. All of Dallas knows how he is at any given moment.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were stifling a smile. To her amazement, he also let out a stifled sound that might have, cut free, been a laugh.

  “And my other charming half sister?”

  “The less I say about Marceline, the better.”

  This time it was he who gave her a quick glance before turning his attention back to the road. “Such restraint.”

  “You are helping us,” she pointed out. “Doesn’t seem wise to speak ill of your sister.”

  “I doubt you could come up with anything I haven’t already thought myself.” His tone was very dry. “Although she has been acting a bit odd, even for her, lately.”

  Odd on top of nasty? The idea made her shiver inwardly. “Still thick as thieves with Fowler?”

  He shrugged.

  “Odd coalition, that,” she mused aloud.

  “They have a lot in common, each hating a stepparent.”

  Jolie bit back the first thing that rose to her mind, that at least they had stepparents, and while neither Whitney nor Eldridge Colton was the warm, cuddly type, they at least weren’t physically abusive.

  There was a slowdown as a stalled car ahead knotted up traffic behind it. Overheated, Jolie guessed; the October weather seemed to be echoing the blistering temperatures of September. She was almost glad; it gave her the excuse to stay silent as T.C. quickly dodged off the road onto a side street. Never let it be said a Dallas Colton didn’t know his city.

  When they got back on the road to the ranch, the traffic was lighter—no doubt thanks to the clog they’d avoided—and they picked up some speed. Jolie was remembering all the times she’d purposely avoided this trip, despite the temptation to at least drive out to the big gates. But somewhere in her mind she’d had the fear she’d end up in jail for trespassing, whether she actually set foot on Colton property or not.

  And now she was headed directly there. Could even T.C. protect her? She wasn’t worried about him keeping them safe from the killer; she knew he could. But keep her—and more important, Emma—safe from his family? That she wasn’t so sure about.

  She would, she decided, take what abuse there would be. His mother could heap whatever she wanted on Jolie’s head and she would quietly accept it, as long as she left Emma alone. She could take it, for as long as it took for the police to find the killer.

  At least his father wouldn’t be there to torment either of them.

  The moment she thought it, remorse flooded her. His father was missing, possibly dead. In her view probably dead, because it just wasn’t part of Eldridge Colton’s makeup to be cowed. He might be old, and not in the best of health, but he was still the patriarch of both the Colton Valley Ranch and Colton Inc., and he would not go quietly. And it had been months now, with no word. It seemed obvious to her, but she wasn’t about to say anything. If T.C. still had hope his father would be found alive, she wasn’t about to dispute him.

  But her guilt over her unkind thought drove her to speak.

  “It must be hard, not knowing. About your father, I mean.”

  For a moment, he didn’t answer, and she thought he wouldn’t.

  “What’s hard,” he finally said, “is wondering if someone in my family has something to do with it.”

  She blinked. “With...his disappearance? Do you really think that?”

  He flicked her a quick glance before making the turn onto the road that would finally get them straight to the ranch. “You, of all people, find that hard to believe?”

  “I don’t,” she admitted, “but I would think you would.”

  He let out a sound that could have been a wry chuckle. “Well, you were always honest.”

  “Yes,” she said. Then, more pointedly, she repeated it. “Yes, I was. And am.”

  She saw his expression change, his brow furrow. And she knew he’d gotten her meaning, that she’d been honest about what had happened four years ago, about the threats made to Emma by his mother.

  It wasn’t until she could see the start of the long front drive, leading to the huge, black iron gates with Colton Valley Ranch emblazoned across them in gold, that she realized if he was seriously considering someone in his family had something to do with his father’s disappearance, then surely he must be doing the same about what she’d told him. She hadn’t expected him to believe her about his mother’s threats, but maybe, now—

  He drove right past the turnoff.

  She couldn’t help herself, she looked down the drive, then at him. He’d never even glanced at the road that led to his home.

  Irrationally fear spiked through her. Where was he taking them?

  The crazy ideas that flooded her mind told her more than anything so far just how terrified she’d been—and still was—for her daughter. This was T.C., not some serial killer or abductor. She was the one who had assumed they would go to the ranch, the place she’d once thought of as a haven of safety. And it had been, until Whitney Colton had tumbled to the fact that there was more going on between her youngest son and the kitchen help than just a casual flirtation or hookup.

  Ask, she ordered herself. How hard could it be to just ask where they were going?

  She couldn’t make herself say the simple words.

  She had to stop reading thrillers, she thought. Her imagination was going into overdrive, filling her with insane possibilities. What kind of craziness was it that had her calculating how to get into the backseat, free Emma and roll out of a moving car?

  It was all she could do not to turn in her seat to look back at the turnoff to the ranch. As it was she stared at the expanse of grassland they were driving alongside, trying to remember just how far the Colton Valley Ranch stretched. Then it occurred to her that they, like most of the really big ranches, had satellite locations scattered over the state, providing the extra land that raising beef required. Maybe they were headed to one of those.

  It suddenly occurred to her that there were probably many places on all those thousands of acres where you could bury a body—or two—where they would never be found.

  And the man driving this car probably knew where every one of them was.

  Chapter 10

  “Worried?”

  He read her easily, even after all this time. He’d seen the way she’d looked at the drive to the house as they’d gone past. Nor had he missed the sudden new tension in her face as they kept going.

  It was a moment before she answered, in a tone that told him he’d succeeded in making her bristle. “Should I be?”

  “Maybe I do want that payback.”

  She appeared to be considering her answer carefully. He waited. He was good at that.

  “Even if you did,” she finally said, “and from your point of view, I would understand that, but you would never hurt Emma.”

  Well, that took the wind r
ight out of your sails, didn’t it, Colton?

  On the heels of the thought, he felt a little churlish. After what she had been through, she had every reason and right to be wary.

  And Emma. Most especially this was about Emma. It was hardly surprising that Jolie was as spooked as a horse that had stepped on a rattler. She might have only dropped back into his life a couple of hours ago, but he already knew, as he had four known years ago, when it came down to it, Emma’s welfare ranked far above her own.

  He slowed as they came up behind a slow, lumbering flatbed truck loaded with building materials. The truck was new, and the driver was smiling as he waved them around. T.C. smiled inwardly. He liked the signs that his state was doing well when so many weren’t, liked that people were prospering. And he liked that Colton was a part of all that.

  “It’s good to see people working, isn’t it?”

  Her quiet words snapped him back to the tiny world inside this car, and served him up a reminder that she had shown she still read him as easily as he’d moments ago read her. The thought unsettled him.

  “Speaking of working, where are you, specifically?”

  For a moment, he thought she might not answer, and he wondered what was so difficult about the question.

  “The Balcones,” she finally said.

  He blinked. Turned his head to look at her, longer than he should have, vaguely aware he was lucky the road ahead was empty for a stretch. She’d been working at the relatively new hotel he could quite literally see out his office window?

  “For how long?” He thought it came out fairly even, considering. But she drew back slightly, so he guessed she’d heard something of the emotion behind the query.

  “Just over a year. Since they opened.”

  A year. She’d been practically within his sight for over a year. Hell, he’d even been in there a time or two in the last year. The new restaurant they’d opened had quietly built a reputation in a competitive market, and had rather quickly become reliable enough in quality and service to gain a spot on Dallas’s list of the top fifty places to eat. He’d found the place subtler than many, the food delicious and the presentation less ostentatious than others, and it ranked high on his list of places to take associates who didn’t need the flash or the trend. And that Fowler wouldn’t be caught dead in such a quiet, unpretentious place was a huge mark in its favor in his book.