High-Stakes Colton

by Karen Anders

  Charlie Hanson’s real estate agent took one look at Fowler Colton and sighed. “Miss Colton, is there a problem?”

  “No, there isn’t,” she said, turning to her brother. “Fowler, you have no right to disturb this meeting.” She folded her arms and gave him a strong, no-nonsense look. There was no way he was going to intimidate her.

  “You don’t need to go through with this, Alanna. Colton Valley Ranch Stables can’t do without you.”

  “What?” Startled, she looked at Jake, and a sardonic smile crossed his face.

  “You heard him right, darlin’,” Jake drawled.

  “We don’t want you to go. You belong at the helm and I was an ass to suggest anything else.”

  “You’re admitting you were wrong?” She felt damn giddy inside.

  “Yes, I don’t like being wrong.” He flicked his gaze to Jake. “About anything. McCord,” he said, nodding.

  “Colton,” Jake responded, that bad boy gleam in his eyes. He was enjoying this.

  “So, this meeting is over?”

  Alanna held up her hand. Leave it to Fowler to try to railroad her. “Not just yet. I have complete control of Colton Valley Ranch Stables.”

  “Yes,” Fowler said.

  “Including financial?”

  “Yes, sister,” he said with a sigh. “Including financial.”

  “Can I—”

  “Get that in writing. Yes.” He reached into the front pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a set of folded papers.

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” She smiled. “I was going to say, ‘Can I trust you?’”

  Jake rose and stood close to her. “I think that would be a yes,” Jake said, breathing in her ear and making her shiver.

  “What he said,” Fowler said.

  She turned to Becca and Charlie. “Uh, let’s talk about how I’m going to compensate you for taking up your time.”

  *

  “Tsk, tsk. I would have been happy to fix a tray for you, Miss Alanna.”

  “I wanted to do it for Jake, Mrs. Morely, but thank you.”

  Mrs. Morely gave her an indulgent smile. “So good to have you blissfully happy.”

  “It’s good to be blissfully happy. If it wasn’t for Daddy still missing, everything would be completely wonderful.”

  Mrs. Morely nodded and squeezed her arm.

  She eased into the room, then crossed to the bed and set the tray on the floor. She threw back the curtains and heard Jake growl from the bed. “For God’s sake, woman! Are you trying to blind me?”

  Bracing her arms on either side of his head, she brushed a kiss along his jaw. “I brought you breakfast in bed.”

  Alanna felt him smile as he ran his hand under her robe and up her rib cage. “That’s some service.”

  Grinning, she nipped his bottom lip, then looked down at him. “I think you’re taking the boss for granted there, lazybones. We have a shipment of horses coming in today. The first of my barrel racer stock. I’m so excited.”

  “What did you bring me?” He rubbed his hand up and down her rib cage, then stroked the indentation between two ribs with his thumb, amusement glinting in his eyes.

  “Cranberry scones and café au lait. You’ll have to extend your pinky when you drink it. It’s French.”

  He laughed, deep and low, caught a handful of hair and pulled her head down, then kissed the side of her neck, his mouth hot and moist and erotically searching.

  “Jake,” she whispered, her tone a little breathless, a little urgent.

  Releasing a long, tremulous sigh, he pulled one of her arms free, then drew her down on top of him, dragging her hair back from her neck before giving her another kiss.

  Weakness flooded through her, and Alanna rolled her head, the feel of his mouth against her neck sending shivers up and down her spine. He let her go and slipped out of bed and she had to gather her composure.

  “Alanna.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, saturated in sensation, her pulse thick and heavy. He was staring at her from the open bathroom door, his wrist braced on the frame, his face taut, looking hot, bothered and all desperado. He was all naked male, aroused, barely restrained. He grinned at her, and Alanna’s knees went weak and then weaker.

  “Let’s get dirty while we get clean, babe.”

  Unbearable feelings swelling up in her chest, she moved away from the bed and reached for her belt. Without breaking eye contact with him, she gave him everything she had and he absorbed it from across the room. She undid her robe, then let it slide from her shoulders.

  A muscle jerked in Jake’s jaw, and he came toward her, his hot gaze drilling into her. Reaching her, he fingered his Ranger badge. She still wore it around her neck. “This looks better on you than it ever did on me,” he whispered. Gripping the back of her neck, he took her mouth in a kiss that paralyzed her and made her knees turn to jelly. Expelling a ragged breath, he swept her up, then turned toward the bathroom.

  Much, much later, she got word that the trailer had pulled into the stable yard. As they stepped out of the house, a wisp of wood smoke greeted them, the scent lingering in the air. Jake grabbed her hand and she stuck the other one in her pocket, the tang of fall and the chill mixing with the lingering smoke. Inhaling deeply, she savored the smell. God, but she loved fall, especially like the one they’d had this year. A true unseasonably warm fall with vibrant colors, clear skies and mild wind that had no force to detach the leaves. It was her favorite time of year.

  They followed the trail through the copse of oak and pine to the arena, the dry grasses beside the trail rustling against her jeans. The horse trailer carrying six horses was parked in front of the arena and Alanna could barely contain her excitement.

  Senator Stillwater had come through for her on her second request.

  “Get in there and get those animals unloaded,” she said to Jake.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The back had already been lowered and Jake methodically and quickly untrailered five of the six horses. He went to go up the ramp for the sixth horse, but he stopped dead, turned to look at her.

  “Alanna, how? What the hell?”

  “Did I mention the Colton name has some pull with Senator Stillwater of the state of Texas? I called in some favors. One was to get tickets to your medal ceremony. The other was to get the Rangers to release Valentine...to you.”

  He dropped his head, overcome with emotion. She could see him fighting for, then regaining his composure. He turned and walked down the ramp and swept her up in his arms. “I love you for this. Thank you for him. He means the world to me.”

  “What’s the fun of having all this weight to throw around and not using it?” She cupped his jaw. “He’s all yours.”

  He went into the trailer and led Valentine out and the grin on Jake’s face was all worth it. He walked over to her, and Valentine nudged him in the back and he stumbled forward. “He wants me to ask you something.”

  “He does?”

  “Yeah.” Valentine nudged him again, and Alanna laughed. “Holy hell, you’re pushy, Val,” Jake said.

  “You’d better get on with it.”

  He took her hands and brought them to his lips. “I don’t have a ring and I don’t have anything prepared, so I’ll keep it simple. Will you marry me?”

  Valentine draped his head over Jake’s shoulder. “Hey, stop horning in on my proposal.”

  Alanna kissed the roan on his nose, then said, “Yes, I’ll marry you. Ring or no ring. Speech or no speech. It is quite simple. It’s love.”

  *

  Alanna stood with Jake in Tiffany’s as he slipped the engagement ring on her finger. “It’s beautiful, Jake.”

  She kissed him and they left the store arm in arm. He stopped her on the street and kissed her again.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, the noon lunch crowd parting and moving around them, and she got a tingling sensation. She opened her eyes, turned her head and froze, her heart in her t
hroat. Across the street, she saw her father dressed in a ratty gray, ill-fitting sweat suit, sunglasses and a—what the hell—New York Yankees cap? The light on the corner changed to green and traffic started to move, blocking her view. She slipped out of Jake’s arms and went to the curb, waiting in agony for the constant flow to clear.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake said, following her gaze across the street.

  Finally, the light changed back to red and all the traffic stopped moving, but when she searched, he was gone. Her heart in her throat, her shoulders slumped and tears threatened.

  Had the same thing happened to her that had happened when she’d been in Dallas to see Becca? Was she mistaken?

  No. This time she was sure.

  “Alanna?” Jake prompted.

  “I thought I just saw my father.”

  “What? Are you sure?” Jake said, scanning the other side of the street.

  “Yes, but how could that be?”

  Later on at home, sitting at the dinner table, she related what happened. All her siblings turned to look at her.

  “It had to be wishful thinking,” Fowler said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Not possible. If Eldridge was walking around downtown Dallas, free of his assailant, he’d have shouted for help or gotten home,” Piper said, and T.C., Reid and Zane agreed.

  Whitney sighed heavily. “I just want my Dridgey-pooh back. I miss him so much.”

  “Maybe his assailant was walking beside him, a gun pressed against him?” Marceline suggested.

  “No, there wasn’t anyone near him. But I must be mistaken. My Texas Rangers–loving dad would never be caught dead in a Yankees ball cap. Right?” She could second-guess herself all night, the incident with the bald man on Pegasus Plaza still fresh in her mind. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

  They all shook their heads in agreement and Jake covered her hand, her engagement ring shining in the light. She so hoped her dad was safe and would come back to them. She wanted to share her good news with him. Introduce him to Jake.

  Right. Her dad dressed like a bum and wearing a Yankees cap...but...this time, she was positive it was him.

  *

  Don’t miss the next book in

  THE COLTONS OF TEXAS series,

  COLTON FAMILY RESCUE by Justine Davis,

  available October 2016 from

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense.

  And if you loved this novel, don’t miss other

  suspenseful titles by Karen Anders in her

  TO PROTECT AND SERVE miniseries:

  A SEAL TO SAVE HER

  HER MASTER DEFENDER

  JOINT ENGAGEMENT

  DESIGNATED TARGET

  AT HIS COMMAND

  Available now from Harlequin Romantic Suspense!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from COLD CASE RECRUIT by Jennifer Morey.

  Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003

  Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

  Do you want to earn Free Books and More?

  Join Harlequin My Rewards points program and earn points every time you shop.

  You can redeem your points to get more of what you love:

  Free books

  Exclusive gifts and contests

  Book recommendations tailored to your reading preferences Earn 2000 points instantly when you join—getting you closer to redeeming your first free book.

  Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!

  Click here to sign up

  Or visit us online to sign up at http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Romantic Suspense title.

  You want sparks to fly! Harlequin Romantic Suspense stories deliver, with strong and adventurous women, brave and powerful men and the life-and-death situations that bring them together.

  Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin Romantic Suspense every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  COLD CASE RECRUIT

  by Jennifer Morey

  Prologue

  With another episode of Chicago crime recorded for the archives, Brycen Cage walked off the set of Speak of the Dead and headed backstage. Fans loved the chilling, grisly, terrible stories. He’d discovered a talent for reproducing them in a much lighter tone than their reality, the darkest side of humanity twisted into entertainment. Ten years ago, if anyone had told him he’d end up somewhat of a celebrity showcasing murder, he’d have laughed.

  He greeted a stagehand on his way down a dimly lit hallway toward his dressing room. Outside the double doors, two security guards waited. A few other crew members busied themselves closing out the program and prepping the stage for tomorrow’s schedule. Brycen liked the social aspect of the show. It beat interacting with the dead.

  His agent let five or six people into his dressing room after every live taping. Good PR, he’d said. Entering the clean, white-walled, well-lit room, he saw the fans waiting for him just inside, five women and one man. The man seemed out of place in a casual business jacket with a cowboy hat shading his gray eyes and black hair sticking out from the rim. Men rarely came here for an autograph.

  He focused on the women, one tall and slender, one short and chesty, one average but great-looking blonde, another taller blonde and a fifty-something librarian stereotype.

  “Hello, ladies.” He inserted himself in the middle of the women and took the first pen offered him. His agent made sure they all brought their own pens. The women giggled breathlessly—all but the fifty-something. She watched with an entertained smile, or maybe a fond smile best described that look. The man stepped back and waited. He didn’t have a pen and paper ready. If he wasn’t here for an autograph, what did he want?

  “I love your shows,” the great-looking blonde said.

  Who could love murder stories about real people? A living, breathing human being had suffered horrifically at the hands of a perverted monster and people loved hearing about it?

  “Thanks.” He gave her his standard charmer of a grin. Had she demonstrated more intelligence, he would not be opposed to spending some personal time with her.

  “Are you still a detective?” the chesty woman asked, waiting to hand him her paper and pen.

  She came off as shy and a little innocent. Sweet. With a nonstandard, genuine smile for her, he signed the blonde’s autograph. “I don’t work for the Chicago police anymore, no.” He came to this studio and recorded shows on cases he’d solved over the years. Talking about them was much easier than having them front and center in his face.

  He handed the great-looking but not-so-bright blonde his autograph, and one of the security guards ushered her out the door.

  “I love your shows on Alaska,” the chesty woman said, handing him her pen and paper.

  She ruined his opinion of her by bringing up Alaska. “Thanks.”

  “Do a lot of criminals go to Alaska to hide?” she asked.

  “Some.” He handed her the autographed plain piece of paper. “Thanks for coming to my show.”

  She looked disappointed at the brevity of their chat. This wasn’t supposed to take long. The other security guard ushered her out the door as the first one returned.

  “I’m Carol,” the tall and slender woman said, thrusting a pen and pad of flowery stationery paper toward him. People handed him all sorts of media to sign. The oddest one so far was a giant wall clock. The visual still made him want to chuckle. What made that woman decide on the clock, and why have his name so prominently displayed? Did time have some meaning? The short time humans had to live? Or had sh
e been fascinated by murder and got a thrill every time she saw his name? Maybe both. Who knew?

  “Will you write great to meet you, let’s get together sometime?” Carol flashed her pretty brown eyes with a big smile, all in fun.

  He admired her courage. “I’d be glad to.” He began to write.

  “Do you mean it?” she asked excitedly.

  Finished writing, he handed her the pen and stationery back. “Of course. Now you can show all your friends.” He always got uncomfortable when the groupies came to see him. He wasn’t a rock star, after all.

  Her smile deflated a bit when she noticed his neutrality, or lack of interest, as she might interpret.

  “Right this way,” the security guard said, guiding her away.

  She looked back over her shoulder as though lamenting the failure of this one attempt to hook up with someone famous. Well, not famous. His show was popular, that was all. And he did like his privacy.

  “Is it true that you don’t believe in marriage?” the tall blonde asked, handing him her piece of paper.

  A magazine had done an interview with him once, a few months ago. Promotion, his agent had said. He hadn’t enjoyed it at all. Talking about his personal life always set him on edge. “I’m a skeptic.”

  “Haven’t you ever been in love?” She smiled flirtatiously.

  “Once, but it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” He handed her the pen and paper and nodded to the other security guard.

  Her flirty smile vanished at his easy dismissal. She didn’t look back as she was taken through the door.

  The fifty-something handed him a photograph of himself. She’d patiently waited, like the man hanging back in the shadows. Brycen glanced over at him watching the exchange as he likely had done with all the others, nothing revealing on his face or in his eyes. Who the hell was this guy?

  “It’s so refreshing to know there are people like you left in this world,” the fifty-something said.

  Her sincerity brought his attention right back to her.