The Savior: COLTER (Cover Six Security Book 6)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Her avenging angel.

  And she hated him for it. Not just him, but Colter, too.

  The realization was so sudden, so sharp, that she physically recoiled from it.

  "It wasn't your decision to make, Allison."

  She didn't bother pretending she didn't know what he was talking about. Why should she, when he'd somehow already guessed what she was thinking?

  "It should have been me." She said the words to Ryder, the same way she had said them to Colter. And she meant them as much now as she had before. The revenge should have been hers to take—but that chance had been taken from her.

  By Colter.

  By Ryder.

  He moved further into the room, the thick soles of his heavy boots loud against the white tile. He didn't stop until he reached the bed, his hands curling over the bedrail hard enough that she expected it to crack under his grip.

  "It wasn't your decision to make." Ryder repeated the words, his voice low and fierce.

  "It wasn't your right to do it for me. And it wasn't Colter's right to stop me."

  "If he hadn't, I would have."

  "It was my right. I'm the one who should have killed him."

  Ryder released his strangling grip on the bedrail, folded his arms across his chest, and stared down at her. "Then why didn't you?"

  "Colter stopped me—"

  "No, he didn't."

  "He did. He took the gun away from me."

  "No, Allison, he didn't. You had the weapon in your hand, your finger on the trigger, long before Ninja was there. You had it pointed at Crocker. You could have shot him if you wanted to."

  "No." Allison shook her head, looked away from Ryder and focused on a spot on the wall. "No, you're wrong."

  "The only person who stopped you was you. You're not a killer, Allison."

  Ryder's voice was oddly gentle, filled with understanding. She blinked against the tears burning her eyes. "He deserved to die."

  "And he did."

  "But I should have been the one to do it. Nobody else. Me."

  "Why?"

  She looked at Ryder, at the tenderness in his eyes, and felt something tighten in her chest. "Because...because you shouldn't have to bear the guilt for doing it."

  "There's no guilt over what I did. And I'd do it again if given the chance. So would Ninja. And Ox and Zeus and any one of the other guys. But you—Allison, if you had pulled that trigger, you'd never be able to live with yourself."

  "I could—"

  "No, you couldn't. That's not who you are, Allison." Ryder unlatched the bedrail and lowered it, then sat on the edge of the bed next to her. His hand reached for hers, curled around it and squeezed. "And there's nothing wrong with that. You should be proud of it, of who you are and what you do. I am. And the world needs more people like you. Like Hannah."

  "Do you mean that?"

  "Yeah, I do. So how about we make a deal? You and Hannah spread all your good around the world, and let me and my friends take care of the bad guys."

  "But—"

  "No buts. Do we have a deal?"

  Allison hesitated, finally nodded. Told herself that knowing there were men like Ryder and Colter keeping the world safe would be enough.

  And maybe, if she told herself that enough times, she'd eventually believe it.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Two months later.

  Allison squeezed her car into the small parking space and sat there, staring at the rowhome for a long time. It was empty now, the moving van gone. She had passed it when she turned onto the block for the fifth time, finally working up the nerve to stop.

  It was now or never.

  But she still sat there, not moving. Afraid to move. Fresh air drifted through the window and caressed her cheek with the hint of spring, reminding her of new beginnings and fresh starts and endless possibilities.

  Of hope.

  Memories of that night two months ago still haunted her but—she hoped—they no longer defined her. She wasn't the same woman she had been before that night but she realized now that was okay. The counseling sessions Ryder, of all people, had bullied her into had helped her accept that.

  She was still in counseling, probably would be for some time yet, but it was the women at Forging Change that had made the real difference. Their support and understanding as they opened up about their own experiences had helped put her solidly on the road to recovery. Their unwavering hope that something better waited for them, that all they had to do was reach for it, had moved her forward.

  And had convinced her to come here today.

  Colter was moving. He might even now be packing up the last few little things and getting ready to come outside to his truck. Once he left, she wasn't sure she'd be able to find him again. Ryder had stubbornly refused to tell her where he was moving to, saying that if she wanted to know, she needed to go ask him herself. And then, in the next breath, he had flat out warned her not to call or show up at the CSS offices looking for Colter. If she wanted to talk to him, she knew where to find him outside of work.

  For now.

  Allison had only seen him twice since being discharged from the hospital—and that had been her choice, not his. She needed time to herself. Time to think. Time to heal. Time to reconcile the two halves of her whole and figure out who she was now.

  He'd accepted her reasons, hadn't argued or pushed. And she knew him well enough to know that he'd stay away, respecting her wishes and giving her space until she told him otherwise.

  It was now or never.

  Allison fortified herself with a deep breath and opened the door. Put one step in front of the other, not stopping until she stood in front of his door. She raised her arm, loosely fisted her hand—

  And stopped.

  What if he didn't want to see her? What if he'd changed his mind in the last two months? Their relationship had been so new, just getting started, when her world had been forever changed. Maybe Colter had decided that things were better before and was no longer interested in a future, or even in a now.

  Never give up hope. Sometimes it's the only thing that gets us through.

  Linda's voice, so strong and sure, echoed in her mind. And she was right.

  Allison rapped her knuckles against the door, knocked three times. Sweat coated her palm and she wiped her hand against her leg, then pressed that same hand against her stomach to calm the sudden swarm of butterflies that had taken wing.

  Then the door opened and Colter was standing there, larger than life. Her gaze roamed his face, drinking in every detail. The dark eyes, warm enough to melt her. The thick hair, a little longer than she remembered. The strong jaw, chiseled and sharp.

  "You shaved!"

  Colter brought one hand to his face, rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. "Yeah, last month."

  "Oh." Allison shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wondering if anything else had changed. So what if he had shaved his beard? It didn't mean that life had been irrevocably changed.

  He moved back, opening the door wider so she could step inside. Allison paused in the entranceway, her gaze scanning the empty house. An odd sadness washed over her and she ruthlessly pushed it away, forced a smile to her face.

  "That's some serious housecleaning you've done."

  Colter closed the door, stepped past her and headed toward the kitchen. "I'm moving."

  "Yeah, I passed the moving truck when I pulled in." She followed him into the kitchen and leaned against the wall. "Well, that, and Ryder may have said something."

  Colter glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. He turned back to the refrigerator and started emptying it, transferring the contents to the cooler sitting on the floor. "Did you want anything to drink? I have water and one energy drink."

  "No thanks, I'm good." Allison jammed her hands into her pockets and watched the play of muscles along Colter's back. "So. Moving, huh? How come?"

  "I wanted something a little bigger so I finally broke down and b
ought a house."

  "A house? Wow. That's, um, that's good. Congratulations." She wanted to ask him why he needed something bigger when this place was big enough for one person but the words stuck in her throat. It wasn't that she was afraid to ask the question—

  But she was afraid of the answer.

  Colter placed the last of the food into the cooler and shut the refrigerator door, then turned and leaned against it. Dark eyes met hers, studying her with warm intensity. Allison squirmed under that gaze and looked away, afraid he'd see too much.

  "How are you doing, Al?"

  She inwardly winced at the nickname, wondering if his use of it was meant to put her firmly back in the friend zone. Outwardly, she offered him a bright smile. "Good. I'm doing good. Going to therapy still. Working through stuff. But, you know, I'm good."

  "That's good to hear. And you look good."

  "You mean better than the last time you saw me?"

  Shadows danced across his eyes, filled with sadness and regret. Colter dropped his gaze and pushed away from the refrigerator. "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

  "I didn't think it was."

  "I just meant that you looked, you know, good. That was all."

  "Yeah. Good."

  He dipped his head a fraction of an inch, a frown creasing his face. "Is there something suddenly wrong with using the word good?"

  "You mean other than the fact that we've both said it probably fifty times in the last three minutes? No, of course not. What could possibly be wrong?"

  "Allison, I just meant that you look like you're on the road to healing."

  "I am, thank you."

  "That's—" His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat. "I'm glad to hear it."

  Allison dragged her gaze from his, glanced around the empty room and wondered why this was so hard. It shouldn't be this hard, should it? How she felt about him hadn't changed. What she wanted, what she hoped for, hadn't changed, either. So why was this so hard?

  "Was there a reason you stopped by?"

  She seized the opening he gave her but the question that fell from her mouth wasn't the one she'd been planning on asking. "Why are you moving?"

  "I told you: it was time for a bigger place."

  "But why? It's just you. Why would you need a bigger place? Is there someone else?"

  "Boomer didn't tell you?"

  Shock forced the breath from her lungs. Embarrassment heated her face, burned her with mortification and she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. "Ryder knows? He knows you're involved with someone else and still let me come here?"

  "Someone else? Allison, it's not—"

  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here. This was stupid." She spun around, nearly collided with the wall in her hurry to leave. Then Colter was in front of her, blocking her way—but not touching her.

  "I'm not seeing anyone else."

  "You're not?"

  "No, of course not." He raised his hand and Allison leaned toward him, waiting to feel the warmth of his palm against her cheek. Waiting to feel the brush of his lips against her mouth.

  But he stepped back, dropped his hand and jammed it into his back pocket. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

  Allison waited for him to finish, to explain why he was apologizing, but he didn't say anything else. He wouldn't even look at her. "You didn't mean to what, Colter? I don't understand."

  "You said you needed time."

  "I did."

  "And I'm giving you that time, Allison. All the time you need, no matter how long it takes. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here."

  She flattened her hand against the center of his chest, felt the reassuring beat of his heart against her palm. Strong. Steady. A little fast. "I'm here now, Colter."

  He still hesitated, a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes. Allison stepped closer, wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up on her toes. His mouth was warm and soft under hers, pliant and patient as he let her set the pace—and she quickly lost patience with it. She wanted more. Needed more. She always had with Colter, always would.

  But she pulled away just before the kiss exploded, before all thoughts evaporated from her mind. "Wait. You never said why you needed a bigger house."

  Colter's eyes darted away and he looked almost embarrassed for a brief second before speaking. Then he took a deep breath and met her gaze with a shrug. "Because this place is too small. A teenager needs room to grow, and a yard to run around in."

  "A—a teenager?" Had Allison heard correctly? Yes, she had, because Colter was nodding, the first hint of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

  "Yeah. I started the paperwork to become a foster parent to Shonda."

  "Shonda? Really? Oh, Colter, that's fantastic! And Ryder knew? And he didn't tell me?"

  "I told him not to. There's still a long way to go and there aren't any guarantees that it'll even be approved, even with Daryl's help, but—I had to try."

  Allison leaped into his arms, her mouth closing over his. She pulled back, a wide smile on her face. "Remember when I said I was half-way in love with you?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I lied. I'm completely in love with you. And I think you're going to be a great dad."

  "I hope so. Shonda seems excited about it so that's a step in the right direction." He pressed his mouth to hers, pulled away with a soft groan and dropped his forehead against hers. The warmth in his dark eyes washed over her, pulling her into the heated promise swirling in their depths. "Allison?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I love you, too. I fell in love with you more than a year ago, as soon as I stepped off that ferry and saw you giving your brother a hard time." Colter's mouth closed over hers before she could say anything.

  And then she didn't have to.

  Epilogue

  Fourteen months later.

  Shonda bounded into the kitchen and slid onto one of the stools with a long-suffering sigh. The sound was filled with all the drama that only a fourteen-year-old girl could manage and accented by a quick toss of long braids over her shoulder.

  Allison hid her smile behind one hand as Colter turned and eyed his daughter with all the suspicion the dramatic entrance and suffering sigh deserved.

  "What?"

  "I need a hero."

  "I'm sorry. A what?"

  "A hero." She propped her chin in her hands and rolled her eyes at the horrified expression on Colter's face. "For the story I'm working on."

  "Oh. Well, that's okay then I guess. What kind of hero are you looking for?"

  "Someone big and strong with dark hair and dark eyes. He works with the heroine while she chases after the bad guys. Actually, he's more like her assistant but he still needs to be as tough as her."

  "Um—" Colter's helpless gaze slid to Allison's but she resolutely shook her head, silently telling him that he could handle helping Shonda plot her next story. The writing had started as part of her therapy but she had kept with it, exhibiting a natural talent for it. "Well, okay. That's a good start. What else do you know about him?"

  "I know everything about him. I just don't know what his name is." Shonda dropped her head to the island counter with another long-suffering sigh.

  "Well, you could always use a nickname. Lots of tough guys have them. Like, I don't know, Ninja maybe. That's a tough, heroic name."

  "Eww, Dad. No. Gross. Besides, my hero is a demon-turned-human sent here to wreak havoc on the world."

  "I thought you said he was supposed to help the heroine with the bad guys."

  "He does but that's not until later, after he falls in love with her."

  "Uh—"

  "What's Uncle Roman's middle name? Maybe I could use that."

  "Why would you want to use Ox's middle name?"

  "Because my hero looks a little bit like him."

  Colter clenched his jaw, shot a helpless look in Allison's direction, then slowly released his pent-up breath. "I don't know what his middle name is."

  "O
h. Oh well, I'll just ask him tomorrow when everyone comes over for the cookout." Shonda slid off the stool and left the large kitchen the same way she entered: with dramatic flair and boundless energy.

  Colter lowered himself to the stool she had just vacated and dropped his head into his hands. He took several deep breaths and Allison knew without asking that he was desperately trying to center himself.

  She also knew that he hadn't been able to do that for the last year, not since Shonda had become a permanent part of his life—

  And hers.

  "She has a crush on Ox." Colter's voice was carefully flat, the words a statement of what he thought was fact. Allison walked over to him, wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed a kiss against his neck.

  "Not a crush, just a little hero worship."

  "But it's been over a year. I thought that would have worn off by now."

  "She's always going to look up to Roman. He's the one who helped her that night, who stayed with her until the ambulance arrived."

  "I know, I just..." His voice trailed off and he reached for her hand, threaded his fingers with hers. "Sometimes I still worry."

  "You're her dad, you're supposed to worry. But she's a survivor and you heard Dr. Rivera—she says Shonda has made a remarkable recovery, physically and emotionally." And she had, showing everyone her strength of spirit and resiliency—and a sheer stubbornness that had taken them all by surprise.

  "That doesn't mean I don't worry." He squeezed her fingers. "About both of you."

  "I'm fine, too." It was the truth. It had been fourteen months since she had decided to take charge of her life and not allow what had happened to define her. She still went to counseling—all three of them did, together and separately—and that had made a big difference.

  And so did having Colter with her, supporting her with his quiet strength.

  He turned on the stool, wrapped his arms around her thickened waist and pulled her closer. His mouth was soft and warm, full of promise as he deepened the kiss—then pulled back when Shonda bounded into the kitchen and skidded to a stop.

  "Oh ugh. You two are so embarrassing sometimes." She tossed the softball she was holding in the air then expertly caught it with her other hand. "Dad, you ready for some catch?"