Colton's Deadly Disguise (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 7)

by Geri Krotow

  “Oh my goodness, I had no idea you were pregnant! Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. We’re pretty excited. I hope I can pass the bar before the baby comes.” She smiled at Holden. “And I’m hangry by the end of each shift. I’ll ask the cook to give you an extra helping of fries.”

  “Thanks.”

  Holden conversed with Angelina as if he’d known her as long as Bella had instead of for the last three minutes. As she checked him out, Bella’s first impressions of Holden stood; he was strong, poised and exuded confidence that could be intimidating if the one facing him didn’t have a spine. But he was kind and didn’t seem to think being an FBI agent made him better than anyone else. The opposite, in fact. Holden had a healthy humility she found very attractive.

  She sat straighter on the red-leather-padded bench. One thing Bella prided herself on was her strength of character, no matter who she was sitting across from. As he asked for mayonnaise instead of ketchup for his fries, he smiled at Angelina again and the flash of white stirred something Bella had kept quiet for a while, since she’d helped Gio through her sickness and those last awful weeks. Bella’s last boyfriend hadn’t been able to handle her needing a break to care for her best friend and she’d flat out dumped him.

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks. Nice to see you, Bella.”

  “You too, Angelina.” She smiled at the expectant mother. It must be baby season for MVHS alumnae. Angelina was the third in two weeks she’d heard was having a child. It stirred something in Bella that she knew to be her biological clock ticking. She wouldn’t mind kids someday, but only after she found the right man, and was certain she was up to the task. Being orphaned and left with Aunt Amelia so young had left a stamp of reality on any urge for family, save for her brothers.

  “You know the waitress, I take it? Is this the kind of town where everyone knows one another?”

  “She and I are high school classmates. We haven’t kept in close touch, but yeah, it’s a fairly tight-knit community. To a point. It’s not like I’d be able to tell you how her marriage really is, whether or not she’s living her dream.”

  “Meaning?” Holden’s expression was back to badass FBI agent. She felt as though she was being inspected, and realized she was.

  “Let’s get something straight, Holden. I’m willing to work with you, even help your investigation if I can, but I’m not beholden to you because you work for some big government LEA.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And it’s pretty clear you have some issues with me, though you’re not saying what.”

  His brows rose and she knew she’d surprised him.

  “I don’t care for reporters. I find your profession revolting.” His words didn’t surprise her. What stunned her was that he flat out admitted it.

  “Then why the heck are you looking to work together? I’m in the pageant solely for my story. I haven’t misled you about that.” She’d taken a risk by telling him anything to begin with. It was too late for self-recrimination, though.

  “To keep this aboveboard, between us, you need to understand that the pageant may be shut down at any point.”

  “I’m kind of surprised that you haven’t done that already.” She smiled at Angelina when she slid a large diet soda in front of her.

  “I don’t know who it was who attacked you. If I did, and if I could prove it was the same killer from the other two pageants, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  “Would you, though?” Anger simmered low and hot in her belly. “You want to catch a killer. Take away Ms. Mustang Valley and you have no bait, no means of attracting him.”

  “Tell me about the files you were looking for.”

  “Pageant records. They’ve been in that old file cabinet since I went to Mustang Valley High.”

  “The drawers were empty. You saw that.”

  “I assumed that MVPD took them. For evidence.” She spoke to him as professionally as she could muster this late in a day that had included her first physical attack, ever. It was a blessing she had little memory of any of it, other than the creepy voice behind her before she was knocked out.

  “The person who attacked me—did you see him?”

  “I did. But he was completely disguised.”

  “His voice sounded odd.”

  Lines appeared between his brows and on the bridge of his nose and her fingers twitched. It’d be so easy to reach across the table and smooth those out for him.

  What was she thinking? She shoved her hand under her thigh.

  “The voice disguiser... That’s pretty high-tech, isn’t it?” It sounded like a seriously committed criminal to her, to have special disguise equipment.

  “Not at all. You can buy them from five dollars on upward to hundreds of dollars. They’re available in party stores for Halloween, and online. There are even apps that do it for you.”

  A shiver ran up her spine and down her front. She crossed her arms against the involuntary response. “I can’t see someone trying to protect the pageant files going to such lengths.”

  “Nor can I, unless...”

  “Here you go.” Angelina was back and set their platters down in front of them. The aroma of her hot meal made Bella’s stomach growl. Holden’s surprised glance, then that quick grin, let her know he’d heard it, too. Red-hot embarrassment assaulted her cheeks but she kept a smile pasted on her face until Angelina left.

  “I haven’t eaten since early this morning, over fourteen hours ago. I’m allowed a stomach noise or two.”

  “Hey, I’m not saying anything.” But the grin was still there.

  “You were saying why you think my attacker used a voice disguiser?”

  He chewed his hamburger for several moments, wiped his mouth, took a sip of iced tea. “It’s not just the voice disguise—it’s the lengths he went to, to completely hide his identity. It points to someone local, and if it’s someone from Mustang Valley, it could be related to the pageant. Who holds this competition so dear that they’d hurt others to keep it running?”

  “That’s my question to answer, isn’t it?” She munched on a fry. “I’m keeping all avenues open. My first thoughts are to find the evidence for the extreme weight and diet restrictions that Gio told me were assigned as a matter of course for every contestant. I’d hoped to have that in hand already, in those files.”

  “You don’t. So until you get the files?” He didn’t miss a beat.

  “I have to keep going, play along as if I’m really a legitimate contestant.”

  “Which you are. Does it bother you, the lying?”

  “Not as much as my trust being compromised.”

  “How so?” One brow up, his intense chocolate gaze on her. Did his lids lower a smidge as he checked out her lips?

  She shivered, but not from temperature. This chemistry had to be in her imagination. Maybe it was part of surviving the attack. She may have been unconscious but her brain had witnessed all of it; isn’t that what her friends in medicine told her?

  “Cold?” He’d seen her shudder.

  Bella shook her head. “No. Annoyed is more like it. I told you what I was working on in confidence. And then you told someone during your phone conversation. I couldn’t help but overhear it.”

  “That was my supervisor—I’m obligated to keep him informed about all aspects of this op, especially since I’m working solo here. It won’t go any further.”

  “You’re forgetting an important detail, Agent St. Clair.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re not alone. We’re in this together, remember?” She couldn’t say why but she relished the look of what she interpreted as disgust crossing his face. He hated reporters? Great. She’d be sure to not disappoint.

  “Speaking of that, there’s something we have to absolutely agree on or I’ll be required to disqualify you from t
he pageant.”

  Bella’s blood stilled, and she swore it lowered in temperature. “Are you threatening me, Agent St. Clair?”

  “No, but I’m going to have to make you promise to allow me to protect you.”

  “I don’t ne—”

  “Hold it.” He held up his hand, a smear of ketchup on his palm. This man enjoyed his meals as much as she did. “Before you spout off about your brother being able to take care of you and provide security, forget it. We might be facing two criminals in my estimation. A possible serial killer, and someone additional, someone who wants the pageant’s workings protected at all costs. If it’s all just one criminal, that’s enough. MVPD is already strapped to the max with its current investigation, and as a Colton you’re that much more visible. You either need to hire ’round-the-clock security with the utmost credentials, or trust my expertise in keeping you safe through the pageant.”

  “Or else.” She waited until he met her eyes again. “Let me guess, ultimatums come in your job description.” Her vision narrowed in on his gaze, his confidence prickling her self-esteem. Anger simmered in her gut although it wasn’t at Holden, but herself.

  Isn’t it your ego, your pride that’s being hurt?

  She ignored her conscience. She had to. Otherwise she’d have to admit that she found the prospect of allowing FBI agent Holden St. Clair to guard her at the least interesting, and at the most, sexually exciting.

  “Actually, no. I don’t hand out ultimatums or live in the black and white as much as you might think. Criminal investigations are messy, and rarely do they move in a straight line. Do I find the bad guy? Yes, most of the time. And it’s pretty straightforward, as far as who a killer is. But getting there, uncovering the evidence, that’s different each time.”

  “Don’t expect me to commiserate with you. Reporting—accurate, with verifiable sources, protected or not—is always difficult. When it isn’t, I know the subject matter isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “You’ll get no commiseration from me on journalistic technique.” He finished the last of his burger and eyed her over the votive that Angelina lit when she brought their drinks.

  If she saw a flicker of humanity in his gaze, she credited the candle. Holden St. Clair was as hard-boiled as any LEA she’d met in her job, and as stoic as her brother. His demeanor was what really frightened her, though. As tough as his statements and matching views were, he spoke without animosity or judgement. He was calm, the strength of his personality driven by integrity, if she had to guess.

  Just like her long-deceased father. Not a day went by that Bella didn’t think of her parents and the awful loss she and her brothers and okay, even her not-so-dear old Aunt Amelia, had suffered. But she had a feeling that while she was in Holden’s company she was going to be remembering Dad a lot more.

  Thinking about her dad and the years she’d lost with him only ever accomplished one thing. It made her vulnerable.

  Bella didn’t do vulnerable—not again, anyway.

  Chapter 7

  Holden watched the light play across her face, narrowly illuminated by the tiny candle. This greasy spoon was a far cry from the linen tablecloths he was used to sharing with beautiful women, in Phoenix. Yet he couldn’t remember having a meal with anyone as attractive as Bella in eons. Not in the physical or chemical way, but intellectually. And maybe a bit more. Bella’s intelligence was reflected in her keen wit, dry sense of humor—which he adored—and her willingness to totally submerse herself in the pageant.

  “Are you pro beauty pageant or not?” He’d learned long ago it was best to be direct if he wanted the truth. “I can’t tell if you’re supportive of the other contestants or silently judging them.”

  “I would have answered this differently, immediately after Gio passed away.” She weighed her words. “I have nothing against the pageants that have a valid award, like the scholarship with Ms. Mustang Valley. I absolutely don’t support requiring women to adhere to a construct of beauty or certain physical attributes, though.” Again, doubt tugged on her conscience. The possibility that Gio’s eating disorders had been triggered but not caused by the pageant was something she was going to have to reckon with by the time she finished her exposé.

  “Yet this pageant’s prize is scholarship driven, as you’ve mentioned.”

  She nodded. “It is. Which is why I’m able to stomach entering. Trust me, if the prize had been no more than a tiara and sash to wear in the annual Mustang Valley parade, I’d still have had to consider it to get to the bottom of my investigation. But it would have come at a much higher price. Plus no one would have believed me, or trusted my motive for entering. With the scholarship prize it’s easy to pose as a legit competitor.”

  “Thank you for being so honest in your response. I appreciate that you didn’t just give me a politically correct line.” He didn’t want to hold her feet to the fire as he rather enjoyed their conversation and getting answers meant it would end sooner than later. But Bella Colton was a woman of substance and integrity—he imagined she’d never settle for anything less than complete transparency—and from what he’d already witnessed, wouldn’t waste time squandering her energy on circular questioning.

  “It’s hard to not be in awe of the contestants. They appear incredibly vested in the process,” Bella said. As did the pageant board, which he was watching closely, and now knew she was, too.

  As if she were a balloon and he held the air passage, he heard the long swish of breath as it left her lungs, her chest raising and falling in sync.

  “That’s what’s so difficult in this case. When the other pageant contestants, and especially the board, find out I did this for an investigative report, they’re never going to forgive me. And I don’t blame them. I’m not responsible for anyone else’s feelings but my own. Yet I saw the other applicants all waiting for what I was going to say, when I came in the school and they were in the folding chairs just off the stage. They weren’t only waiting for me to screw up, which I’m sure most of them were—I’d expect that in any competition. What was different is I felt as though they were cheering me on, showing me that I can do it, that my goals matter. And most of them don’t even know me.”

  “You believe they’re supportive of you, even though they’d do anything to win the scholarship themselves?”

  “Yes.” Her head tilted slightly and revealed the length of her neck that her ponytail bared. She’d put the long locks up before they came in the diner and he longed to see her hair down around her shoulders again.

  Definitely not a thought an FBI agent should be entertaining during a lethal investigation.

  “You sound like you were surprised.”

  “Of course I was! You were there—didn’t it seem a little bizarre, to have the other contestants see my interview, watch for my weaknesses, yet give a big show of support?”

  “No.” His one-syllable reply sounded harsh and even though it wasn’t his concern, he wanted her to know that he understood her observations. He’d had them, too. “Yes, the fact that they were so ready to cheer you on seemed odd to me, when only one person is going to win that scholarship. Which, may I observe, is a hefty amount of change. It’s local, a community college, but still, that’s got to be worth at least several thousand dollars.”

  She named the figure without hesitation and a warmth lit his insides. Bella wasn’t a fly-by-night reporter or blogger; she’d done her homework.

  “It’s enough to either pay for the full four years at Mustang Valley Community College, MVCC, or at least four semesters at the closest Arizona state school.”

  “I did find it odd that you were in financial straits after working in your field for so long.” He didn’t want to give away how much he knew about reporters, not to this beautiful woman who didn’t remind him one bit of his ex, save for her job description. He still felt foolish that he’d allowed his ex, Nicole, to
lead him on for as long as she had, all for a story.

  “I’m not in bad financial straits, not really.” She grinned. “I’m not stupid. If they research my earnings over the last two years they’ll see a significant drop-off from the Mustang Valley Gabber—like all newspapers and blogs, we’re struggling. I’ve relied on extra freelance work beyond my full-time Gabber position, and it’s enabled me to put a good amount in savings over the last five or six years.”

  “Any reason why?”

  She shrugged. “Why not? I’m single and I came up with enough to put a down payment on a house. My mortgage is manageable and I live pretty simply.”

  He couldn’t help check out her clothes, still the same striped top and white pants from earlier. The sparkling jewelry. She seemed as though she was doing more than getting by paycheck to paycheck.

  “Hey, don’t judge me on how I appear now. Or how I looked earlier—it’s been a rough day, right?” She let out a throaty laugh and he felt it shoot right to his crotch.

  Yeah, working with Bella Colton was going to be a challenge. Not the working part—the keeping it to business only piece.

  “I have to ask how far you’re willing to go for your writing, Bella.”

  “What do you mean? Haven’t I already showed you I’m willing to do just about anything to get the answers I want?”

  “Are you willing to have me protect you, offer to be your bodyguard, for the duration of the pageant?”

  “Sure. I mean, that’s why we’re meeting here and now, right? To agree to share information.”

  “I need more from you, Bella. I can’t let you out of my sight until we apprehend the suspect.”

  “I’m not going to your hotel room with you. So where will you stay?” She was so determined, and he found her independence incredibly sexy. But as he took in her beauty he didn’t miss the bright red highlights in her hair—bullseyes to the killer.

  “No, you’re not coming to the hotel with me.” She’d figure out his intention to not leave her side soon enough. “I’ve been hotel hopping, up until the last couple of days, as I’ve spent more time in Mustang Valley.” He wasn’t going to share that he was a naturalist who counted a night under the stars with no edifice to block them more luxurious than the swankiest hotel on the planet. He’d be able to keep her safe in a tent.