Colton Bullseye, page 1
“Don’t.”
His plea came out in a gravelly whisper, and he kept his eyes closed. But he didn’t stop her. Her ire melted into compassion. She knew too well what it was like to fight it as he did now. She’d struggled to keep her physical desire in check from the moment he’d looked into her eyes right after he’d rescued her this morning.
“It’s okay, Stanton. Isn’t it normal to feel like this with an ex? We’re not robots.” She shouldn’t be standing so close to him, shouldn’t tempt fate by touching him at all. Her fingers explored his jaw, stubbled by beard growth, unable to get enough of him. No amount of touch with Stanton would ever be enough. She swayed toward him, unable to stop the desire-fueled momentum that pushed her closer.
“Dom.” With no further preamble, Stanton’s arms came around her waist and he tugged her flush against him. Air whooshed from her lungs as she felt his full length, including his erection, through their layers of clothing. She let her arms go to his shoulders and met him halfway as his mouth came down on hers.
* * *
The Coltons of Grave Gulch: Falling in love is the most dangerous thing of all...
* * *
If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Romantic Suspense! #harlequinromsuspense
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Grave Gulch, Michigan, with Dominique and Stanton’s story. As a suspense writer, I had my hands full with all of the bad guys throwing themselves at this intrepid couple, and even I wasn’t sure how they’d get out of certain predicaments. What struck me about Dominique and Stanton, however, was how even though they’d parted ways two years ago after a brief but passionate relationship, the bond between them remained stronger than ever. Which makes for the best romantic tension and their pursuit of happily-ever-after while fighting to stay alive all the more intense. Please enjoy this story as much as I did writing it, dearest reader!
I’d love to connect with you. Please find me at my website, gerikrotow.com, and sign up for my newsletter at gerikrotow.com/contact.
Are you on social media? I am, too!
Facebook.com/gerikrotow
Instagram.com/geri_krotow
Happy reading!
Peace,
Geri
COLTON BULLSEYE
Geri Krotow
Former naval intelligence officer and US Naval Academy graduate Geri Krotow draws inspiration from the global situations she’s experienced. Geri loves to hear from her readers. You can email her via her website and blog, gerikrotow.com.
Books by Geri Krotow
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
The Coltons of Grave Gulch
Colton Bullseye
Silver Valley PD
Her Christmas Protector
Wedding Takedown
Her Secret Christmas Agent
Secret Agent Under Fire
The Fugitive’s Secret Child
Reunion Under Fire
Snowbound with the Secret Agent
Incognito Ex
The Coltons of Mustang Valley
Colton’s Deadly Disguise
The Coltons of Roaring Springs
Colton’s Mistaken Identity
Visit the Author Profile page at
Harlequin.com for more titles.
To my dad, Ed—your love has made all the difference.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Excerpt from Agent’s Wyoming Mission by Jennifer D. Bokal
Chapter 1
“I am being careful, trust me. It’s my job. If I’m not on my toes, I’ll never get to the bottom of Charlie’s murder. I’m starting with the man who falsely accused him and whose testimony put Charlie behind bars.” Dominique de la Vega focused on driving in steadily increasing traffic as she entered downtown Grave Gulch, Michigan. Her morning call to her fraternal twin, Soledad, was over her car’s hands-free option.
“I get what you think your job is, sis, but I’m worried. You’re pushing your luck too far. If Charlie really was murdered, as you suspect, there are bigger forces at work here than one or two criminals.” Soledad’s concern made Dominique wish they were speaking face-to-face, so that she could better reassure her sister.
“I’m telling you, Soledad, Charlie was innocent. And I’m chasing down the best lead since his death, since he was convicted.” Ever since she’d started teaching creative writing at the county prison two years ago, Dominique’s investigative-reporter instincts had gone into full alert mode. One of her students there, Charlie Hamm, had convinced her that he’d been wrongfully convicted and imprisoned; he’d insisted that the drugs he’d been accused of dealing were never his. He’d claimed the witness who’d testified against him had lied, and that false evidence had been planted, too. When he was found dead from an “apparent prison brawl,” she’d wished she’d acted sooner on Charlie’s claims of innocence. The least she could do now was dig until she uncovered the truth.
“I get it, Dom. You want justice for Charlie. He was one of your best students and his poetry touched you. He convinced you he’s innocent, and I have to agree that it sounds like he was. That’s fair. But what kind of justice would it be if you get hurt, or worse? You said this possible lead is about who put Charlie behind bars in the first place?” Interest reflected in Soledad’s voice, but Dominique also heard distraction. Her sister was baking up a storm, as usual. As the owner of Dream Bakes bakery, it was her life.
Dominique stopped at a traffic light on Grave Gulch Boulevard in the center of the city and gave herself a heartbeat to answer her perceptive sister. If she told Soledad who she was really interviewing, or where exactly she was going to in Grave Gulch, her sister would relay the information to their father in two seconds flat. He’d flip out when he discovered she was willfully going into a part of town she wasn’t familiar with, in the midst of a drug cartel’s attempted takeover of their beloved town. If her father had read last night’s police blotter in today’s Grave Gulch Gazette, he’d have figured out that she was going to where drug-related crimes had occurred last night. To complicate matters, there was a serial killer on the loose in Grave Gulch, too, which added to Rigo de la Vega’s worries over his family. Dominique appreciated his concern, and while she felt not a little guilty that her actions caused him any angst at all, she wasn’t going to stop doing her job. She was in her third decade of life and had ventured into dicey situations all over town and the state for countless stories over the years.
She didn’t disagree that any part of Grave Gulch was downright dangerous when it came to ferreting out information from a probable drug dealer and, at the very least, false witness. The particular street she was headed to had seen several serious crimes this past week, all opioid related. As much as GGPD wasn’t cooperating with her on this story as she’d like, she felt for them. Every time it looked like the heroin scourge had been tamped down, it popped up again without warning. ODs often happened in clusters, depending on where the dealers were peddling their lethal wares. Dominique had learned long ago that getting the whole story often meant taking risks but getting her dad on board was another matter. Especially difficult to convince was her father, Rigo, who was beyond protective of his twin daughters, and always had been.
“Yes, the lede in my story is about Charlie’s key accuser. I’m going to get to the bottom of why he lied. Then I hope to tie it into Randall Bowe.” She believed Charlie’s case was yet another instance of GGPD’s forensic scientist deliberately tampering with evidence. “You know he’s suspected of planting the false evidence that almost put Everleigh Emerson in jail for murder for good, and several others, right? Thank goodness Everleigh was cleared.” She gripped the steering wheel in frustration. “GGPD is in over its head, if you ask me. Now that it’s solid truth that Bowe planted false evidence against Everleigh, GGPD has clammed up about the other cases, including Charlie’s. It’ll be more difficult for me to figure out why Bowe went after Charlie but trust me, I will.” Randall Bowe was in her sights, and she wasn’t letting up. Charlie’s death placed his case at the bottom of the GGPD priority list, as other investigations Bowe deliberately damaged involved the living. It wasn’t going to keep Dominique from getting justice for Charlie, though. “Look, sis, I can’t give you more information right now. You’ll tell Dad.” She never could hide her thoughts from her sister.
“Maybe I will, Dominique. You sound like you’re already in trouble. Where are you, anyway?” The clang of utensils and aluminum sheets sounded over the connection.
“I’m in Grave Gulch, downtown. I just drove past you. Trust me, I wouldn’t walk into a place unprepared, or in a dark alley or anything like that. Plus, it’s broad daylight.”
“Don’t patronize me, sis. We both know that evil knows no time of day or place.”
Dominique sighed, wondering why she’d told Soledad about any of this in the first place. Why hadn’t she kept their morning connection time simple and allowed her sister to do m
You’re nervous.
Yeah, she was a little on edge. Going in to find and ask for an interview from the man, according to Charlie, who’d lied to put Charlie behind bars wasn’t what she’d consider usual, even for her job. Usually she’d leave the investigation of criminal activity to GGPD. But first Randall Bowe had evaded questioning, and now GGPD was locked down about Bowe’s involvement in rigged prosecutions. She had to do something, and that meant going after the false witness. Ever since she’d taught the creative writing and poetry night class for inmates in the county correctional facility, she’d established a bond with the men and women who had found themselves behind bars, rightfully or wrongfully.
She’d listened to those who claimed wrongful imprisonment, agreeing to use her skills as a reporter to investigate what she could, but made no promises. Again, this wasn’t her job, it was GGPD’s. As she had expected, she found many allegations to be unfounded. When confronted with the facts, most inmates had stopped insisting on their innocence. But not Charlie Hamm. Charlie had always proclaimed his innocence, and had never given up on the hope that he’d be released early, once someone proved his case. He was arrested a year before he’d been arrested again and sent to prison, both times for dealing. Dominique believed his heartfelt admission that he’d deserved the first arrest, and that it had scared him straight. Charlie swore he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to help users and dealers break free of the sordid life. He’d been brought up on drug dealing charges with what appeared to be minimal but solid evidence in the form of an eyewitness and a single fingerprint. When the reports of Randall Bowe’s alleged evidence tampering began to leak out of GGPD, her reporter senses had tingled. Besides the possibility of a fake witness, evidence against Charlie, in the form of the fingerprint on a suitcase full of opioids, had been handled by none other than Randall Bowe. She knew GGPD was up to its neck in work with the confluence of a serial killer on the loose, the increasingly powerful opioid cartel and the recent kidnapping of a young child who’d been thankfully found safe and sound. All separate incidents. It would be unrealistic to expect GGPD would get answers on Charlie’s case with any sensible timeliness.
Charlie had provided her with all of what he knew, and she’d taken copious notes. He’d believed that a cartel kingpin was at the heart of his wrongful imprisonment. When she’d pressed Charlie for names, he’d balked, claimed that “the drug ring in this town is nothing for a lady like you to worry about.” Charlie had always maintained that he was in recovery for his own heroin addiction and was a reformed part-time dealer, as well. His goal was to help others and he’d claimed that’s all he’d been doing when the event went down that got him in jail this time. Dominique wasn’t a novice and knew that addicts were often gifted liars—it was a dark side of the disease. But Charlie was unlike any other addict or dealer-turned-legit she’d ever interviewed. He’d had such a positive outlook, even while imprisoned. If only she’d pushed harder, Charlie might still be here. She still struggled to accept he was gone.
Charlie Hamm had been found dead in his cell from internal bleeding suffered during a prison fight. Some of her students told her that they suspected the fight was staged—Charlie was targeted by the drug cartel’s boss because Charlie had specific information pertaining to the drug ring, including the names he never provided her—but they wouldn’t tell her more, wouldn’t give her one iota of information. They were afraid for their lives, too. Which led her to wonder if Charlie knew the actual kingpin, a name that so far had eluded law enforcement, as far as she knew.
To make matters worse, she’d uncovered facts that made it appear that Grave Gulch PD hadn’t done all their homework when Charlie was arrested. Point in case was the faulty evidence, processed at GGPD’s small but highly capable forensics lab. Dominique wasn’t certain, or convinced, that Randall Bowe’s reason for planting the fingerprint against Charlie had anything to do with the cartel. But GGPD wasn’t letting her in on their findings, so she had no choice but to follow the drug cartel lead.
Charlie never should have been brought to trial. Her heart ached for him, as much as her fury gnawed at the possibility of his fatal injuries being a premeditated murder. His suspicious death and all he’d told her previously triggered her reporter instincts into rapid-fire, and fueled her quest to solve Charlie’s case.
“Please don’t go to Dad, Soledad. Not yet. You know that this story is vital not only to my career, but for the Grave Gulch Gazette, as well.”
“No offense, sister of mine, but I don’t give a beaver’s butt about the Pulitzer Prize. I want you safe. Alive.” More clatters sounded over the connection as Soledad worked. Dominique didn’t bother to correct her sister. Sure, she wanted to one day win the coveted journalism award for her paper as much as anyone, but her first allegiance was to the story. The truth. She’d add justice in there but knew that the local courts would handle that part. If she could make sure the bad eggs at GGPD were called out and meted punishment. First she had to get some evidence that Charlie’s jail time was for a crime he might never have committed.
“Are you making any of your snickerdoodles today?” Her stomach grumbled at the thought of the buttery cookies, cinnamon baked into their crisp outer edges.
“Remember what I said about patronizing, sis?” Soledad wouldn’t be sidelined by Dominique’s distraction technique.
“Sorry. Trust me, sis, I’m good. I’ve got to go, but I’ll stop by later if I can.” She enjoyed all of the confections her sister created but had to limit herself as her sweet tooth was a serious downfall. As she passed a too-familiar apartment building, the memory of eating hot cinnamon rolls in Stanton Colton’s bed flashed in her mind. The deep pang of regret it triggered was immediately followed by frustrated annoyance. She’d split from the dangerously attractive bodyguard two years ago. Ever since she’d taken on Charlie’s story, though, Stanton had been occupying more space in her head. Probably because she’d always relished sharing her research with him, getting his perspective as a security expert. Memories of him and their short-lived—but passionate—relationship belonged in the past.
“You sound distracted.” Darn Soledad’s ability to read her, even over the phone. Dominique got it; she was equally able to sense where Soledad was emotionally, sometimes physically. They definitely had the twin connection.
“I was for a minute. This traffic is nuts. I’m good, though, no worries. I should probably let you go. We both have work to do.”
“We sure do. I’m proud of you, sis. But for the record? It’s my prerogative to worry about you. Know I love you and nothing is worth any fancy journalism prize.” Soledad’s sincerity infused Dominique’s center with a sense of peace. It wasn’t the first time she’d realized how blessed she was to have her sister in her life.
“Love you, too.” She disconnected and continued to drive down Main Street, passing all of her favorite haunts, including a used bookstore and nearby coffee shop. Her description of where she was headed hadn’t been completely honest. She was well into the east side now, where in a matter of a block the cheery storefronts gave way to run-down buildings and littered sidewalks. Making sure she was as close to the desired cross street as possible, she parallel parked in front of a dilapidated building that had splintered plywood boarded over every window and the door. Still, it was better than driving into the depths of the narrow road she’d have to walk to get to the interview.
Dominique quickly reviewed the address and map on her phone, committing her next steps to memory. Her subject, Johnny Blanchard, was her ticket to the truth. The witness had been difficult to chase down, and he refused to speak to her on her cell phone, opting to leave her messages on the Gazette’s landline only. Before Charlie’s death she would have thought Blanchard might be slightly paranoid, but her perspective about what was happening in Grave Gulch had changed. The more information she gleaned, the more deadly Charlie’s case seemed to have been, from the moment he’d been arrested. The fact that Charlie wouldn’t give her names, in his attempt to protect her, was telling.
