Chapter Three
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JUST LIKE OLD times. Reverend Jack Claiborne’s face was a mess of unadulterated hatred and bone-deep fear. The last thing the poor man expected to see was his daughter kissing the honyock he’d begged her not to marry.
To tell the truth, Colton was pretty damned surprised about it too. Shelby had thrown him out eighteen months ago and he’d never dreamed he’d hear her ask him to take her home again.
He certainly never expected her to kiss him. Of course, that was a bribe. The lady wanted out of this place, and when Shelby Bedford Claiborne, former Miss Oklahoma with a Masters degree in behavioral sciences and a handy-dandy FBI badge in her proverbial pocket, wanted something, she knew how to get it.
But hell, he’d take that kind of bribery any time.
“Daddy, I thought you left,” Shelby said.
Her father glared at Colton, screwing up his face as if he smelled something rancid. “I received a call about this…”—he waggled a hand in Colton’s direction—“malefactor trespassing and causing trouble.”
Malefactor. Jack had called him a lot of things in his life, but that was a new one.
Shelby started to respond, but her dad closed the distance and scooped her up out of Colton’s lap, depositing her back into her wheelchair. “What are you doing here?” he demanded of Colton. “And keep your hands off my daughter.”
Salisbury, still on the bed, leaped over to Shelby’s lap as if guarding her. Agent Ingram leaned on the doorframe, smiling like the Cheshire Cat, and keeping one eye on the pooch. Another man stood in the hallway talking softly to Shelby’s mom. All Colton could make out of him was blond hair and a tidy blue button-down.
Colton took his time rising to his feet. “Good to see you again, Jack.”
“Bullshit, Bells. You’re not wanted here. Get out.”
For a minister, Jack sure knew how to curse. Colton stood his ground. “I’m not going anywhere until Shelby tells me to.”
“Jack, don’t be rude.” Martha Claiborne peered over Ingram’s shoulder. The Fed popped off the doorframe, nodded at her, and moved out of the way so she could enter. “Oh,” she said, her gaze landing on her former son-in-law, “Colton. You are here.”
The overwhelmingly happy greetings really warmed his heart. “Hey, Martha.”
She obviously wasn’t going to fess up to calling him, so Colton played it her way. He was used to being the fall guy.
The guy in the blue shirt edged in and waved at Shelby. “Hey, Shelby. Good to see you.”
She didn’t seem all that happy to see him, but she nodded and gave her dutiful daughter smile. Colton had seen that one a million times. “Hey, Daniel.”
Nudging Salisbury off her lap, she stood, using her wheelchair to get her balance. Colton stepped closer in case she took a tumble. Jack did, too, glaring at him in challenge.
“Colton is helping me figure out who shot me, Daddy. He’s really the best chance I’ve got at catching the guy. Can’t you see that?”
Ingram made an argumentative noise.
Jack reached for the room phone. “I’m calling security.”
“You are not.” Martha grabbed his arm. “Shelby’s right. Between Theo and Colton, they can track down the shooter and bring him to justice. None of us is going to get any sleep until that happens.”
Behind his glasses, Ingram’s eyes widened at the suggestion he and Colton were now working together.
Colton gave him a howdy partner grin, followed by a fuck you wink.
Because of course, there was no way on God’s green earth he was working with Mr. FBI Asshole.
“I can figure this out with Shelby’s help,” Ingram insisted. “I don’t know what Mr. Bells could possibly add to the investigation.”
Colton started to flip him off, then reined in his finger since Martha was in attendance. He couldn’t keep from shaking his head though.
“What?” Ingram demanded. “Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Bells?”
Colton met his condescending stare. “I’m sorry, did I roll my eyes out loud?”
The blonde therapist from the gym—Ashley? Alicia?—appeared in the doorway. “Is everything okay?”
“Get some goddamn security down here,” Jack demanded.
Martha said no, the therapist looked torn, and a second later, Jack, Martha, and Ingram all started talking at once, the therapist jumping into the fray as well.
The man named Daniel backed out of the room with a knowing smile on his face. Salisbury joined the fun, barking and growling.
Shelby tried twice to yell over them, her frustration nearly toppling her. Colton caught her around the waist with one arm, raised his fingers to his lips and whistled.
Shelby flinched at the sharp, high-pitched sound, and everyone else froze, snapping their gazes to him.
“Now that we have your attention…” He held up a hand for Shelby to proceed. “Shelby has something to say.”
“Thank you.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Mom, Dad, I need to talk to Theo and Colton. Yes, it’s about who took a shot at me, but it also involves the ongoing investigation I was working on before that. Which means, you can’t be in here. I can’t discuss open cases with you.”
Jack, his face red, pointed at Colton. “He’s not FBI.”
Ingram now stood next to Jack. He knocked back his jacket, flashing his weapon in its holster again. The guy had a complex. “He definitely should not be in here. He’s a person of interest in the case.”
“Person of interest?” Martha squeaked and grabbed her chest.
Shelby sighed heavily. She tried not to lean on Colton, but he could feel the weariness in her body. One from dealing with her family all these years as well as from her recovery. She loved them dearly, but her dad was a pushy bastard. “Theo, I told you, he’s in my file because he’s a source.”
A source, huh? For what?
“He’s on the suspect list,” Ingram bit out.
Ice formed in Colton’s stomach. “I’m getting damn tired of being called a murderer. Someone care to explain?”
Both Jack and Martha started talking again, Jack shaking a finger at Colton while the therapist shot him a fearful look before she took off, no doubt to grab a couple of security guards.
“That’s it!” Shelby threw up her hands, and it was a good thing Colton had hold of her, because she took a step forward and nearly crashed into her father. “All of you, out!”
“We’re not leaving you with him!” Jack yelled.
And yep, this was exactly the way Colton remembered them. Hot-blooded and full of piss and vinegar.
Salisbury seemed to think this was fun and started jumping up and down on Shelby, barking playfully. Colton shooed him away and steadied her.
Jack sneered in Colton’s face. “Get your hands off my daughter.”
“Stop it, Daddy,” Shelby shoved at Jack’s chest. “He’s not a suspect in my case. You’ve got this all wrong.”
Then she looked at Ingram and glared at him. “And you, stop trying to protect me, already. You’re as bad as they are. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself! Colton is not on any suspect list, and I was top of my class at the Academy with plenty of commendations in my file. If I thought Colton was a threat, I certainly wouldn’t be standing here pretending otherwise.”
Her voice echoed off the ceiling. Her body literally vibrated under Colton’s hands.
Everyone shut up.
Jaws clenched, she balled her hands into fists at her side. “Daddy, I love you, but you have to trust me. It’s imperative I speak to Colton and Theo alone. I’m not your little girl anymore. I have a life. And while I couldn’t do without you and Mom, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me while I was in a coma, the only person who is going to solve the mystery of my shooting, and bring whoever did it to justice, is me.”
Heavy, charged silence hung between all of them. Even Salisbury settled down, sitting at Colton’s feet and looking up at Shelby expectantly.
“Like Martha said, the shooter is still out there, sir,” Colton reminded Jack softly. “He could come after her again.”
The thought made Jack stand a little taller, as if he could somehow protect Shelby by his sheer mass.
“Which is exactly why you haven’t let me go home yet,” Shelby said to him. “I’ve made good progress and I’d be fine on my own with a caregiver, but you’re afraid whoever shot me will come after me again. I’m safer here, right?”
Jack and Martha exchanged a look.
Yep, as always, Shelby could read them like a book.
She could always do the same with Colton too, but that went both ways. The truth hit him right in the solar plexus as it dawned on him why she’d really wanted to talk to him.
“I was a sniper,” he said. “I know how the man thinks, how he operates. Shelby asked me here to pick my brain.”
“You already tried to find the shooter,” Jack reminded him. “You failed.”
Failed. The dragon inside his chest flared its nostrils.
God, he hated that word.
Shelby trembled, from stress or irritation, he couldn’t be sure. Probably both. It had to kill her not to have control over her body or this situation. “The local police and the FBI failed, too, Daddy, and they had extensive resources that Colton didn’t. The guy is good. A ghost in the wind.”
Ingram had the good manners to look at the floor at the mention that he and his precious Bureau hadn’t found the shooter either.
Alicia returned with two security guards who started to shove their way inside. “Sir,” she said to Colton. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“He’s not leaving,” Shelby ground out. “The rest of you are.”
It took another minute of arguing and grumbling, but finally everyone left, including the therapist and security detail. Shelby insisted to Ingram she was too tired now to talk and that she would call him later. She asked him to leave the file he had in-hand; he refused on grounds that it was confidential FBI information.
After the room was once more quiet and empty, Shelby crumpled into her wheelchair. Salisbury jumped into her lap, and she absentmindedly petted him. “I can’t believe them sometimes.”
That was an understatement. “Your mom and dad mean well.”
“I know, which is why I feel guilty when I get mad at them, but lordy, they wear me out.”
Colton dropped onto the bed across from her again, feeling pretty wrung out himself. He leaned his elbows on his knees and supported his head in his hands. “What’s this about me being a suspect in a case?”
“Before this all went down, I was working on a case involving several veterans who were shot and killed. I found what I thought might be a link between them and I wanted your help. I just can’t quite remember why I insisted on meeting with you that night. I mean, why didn’t I just call and explain the case?”
He had no answer. “You texted and said to meet you at the house asap. You must not have wanted to discuss it over the phone.”
A shaky hand rubbed at her scar. “There are these gaps in my memory about that day. I don’t remember texting you or even going to the house. I’ve seen a psychologist to help me handle the trauma, but nothing about that day has surfaced yet. The doctors say it may never emerge, or it could all come back tomorrow. Anyway, Theo must have gotten clearance from the doctors to question me about it today.”
“Why did you think I could help?”
She hesitated and shrugged. “Guess we have to find out.”
“How are we going to do that if Ingram has your file?”
“I have a backup in my safe at home.”
Ah ha. “Another reason you want me to bust you out of here.”
She gave him a half-hearted smile. “Returning to the scene of the shooting is imperative, even if I’m not excited about what it might bring up, and I wasn’t lying about wanting to get out of here.”
“Pretty swanky place. Three squares and a private room. It may not be beauty queen fancy, but it’s not bad.”
She flipped him the bird at the beauty queen reference. “You’re not going to talk me into staying.”
Same old Shelby. “You are currently at my mercy. Try to remember that.”
That got him the double bird and he laughed.
Laughing felt good. He hefted himself off the bed and took the handles of her wheelchair. “Your carriage awaits, beauty queen. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
THEIR HOUSE WASN’T handicap friendly.
Luckily, Colton had snagged her walker from the therapy center.
Such good memories. Shelby stared at the house, remembering running through the halls when her grandparents were still alive. Sunday dinners, holidays, birthdays.
After her grandpa passed and Grandma Vanessa moved into a retirement home, Shelby had bought the place from her. Soon after, she and Colton had married and she still remembered vividly the day he’d carried her over the threshold after their wedding. The late nights in each other’s arms, the stolen weekends together when he’d fly home on leave.
The talk about starting a family.
She wanted several kids. Colton, none.
Having the childhood he’d experienced could do that to someone. They’d fought about it often, Shelby determined to reassure him he would be a good dad. That he would never abandon his own child.
Being in the SEALs, though, meant that he could die at any time. He’d refused to bring a child into the world who might end up fatherless.
Now, a sad, faded For Sale sign leaned against the house’s wood siding. How did that get back out here?
Jack Claiborne, no doubt. Shelby had taken the sign down two days after the realtor put it up eighteen months ago, unable to stand seeing it every time she looked out the window or came home from work. There was no way she could sell the place. Her grandparents had basically founded this town and had raised their family here. She planned to do the same.
Hard to do when you were divorced, but Shelby wasn’t about to let that stop her.
Colton’s gaze landed on the sign as he opened her truck door. “No takers, huh?”
There had been two different couples, in fact. The realtor had been giddy at the prospect of a bidding war. Now? “I doubt anyone wants a house where the previous owner was shot on the front steps.”
Colton caught the sarcasm in her voice. “Touché. Let’s get you inside.”
She asked him for the walker, but he ignored her, sweeping her off the truck seat and carrying her up the steps to the porch swing where he deposited her.
“I want to sit here for a moment,” she told him, breathing in fresh air and enjoying the view.
“No can do.” His dark gaze swept the cul-du-sac, hesitating for a moment on the vacant house to the southeast. The one where her shooter had supposedly stood. “Too dangerous.”
The porch had an enclosed railing and she was half-hidden in the swing from anyone who might see her. “No one even knows I left Premiere yet. I’m not going inside until I get some good, fresh Oklahoma air in my lungs.”
Colton shook his head and headed for the truck once more, continuing to scan the area.
Salisbury sniffed the bushes along the driveway, marking several on his way to the porch. He stopped halfway up the steps and sniffed at a stain.
My blood.
Shelby’s stomach turned. The stain was faded to a dull brown color. Her doctors believed part of her brain injury wasn’t from the impact of the bullet and the subsequent swelling, but from the trauma of hitting her head on the concrete steps.
Closing her eyes, she tried to remember standing in that spot, seeing Colton getting out of his truck.
Nothing.
Shelby opened her eyes. Her mother had probably tried to wash the bloodstain away. She was surprised her father hadn’t simply repainted the steps. He was such a busy man, though, he probably would have sent Daniel to do it.
I’ll do that when I’m back on my feet.
Or maybe she would have her new nursemaid paint them. Her eyes lifted to watch Colton snagging her walker and suitcase from the truck bed.
He was as long and lean as always, muscled in all the right places. Whistling while he gathered her things, she watched the autumn sunlight filter through his too-long hair.
He was the most annoying person in the world, but God, she had missed him so much.
If only they’d found a way to just be Colton and Shelby, not a SEAL and an FBI agent at odds with each other over everything. Especially over that one mission.
Why couldn’t she remember what had happened that day?
Absently, she played with her braid, watching the way his muscles moved under his tight T-shirt. The way his jeans hung loose on his hips.
She licked her lips.
Salisbury sniffed the pot of flowers by the door. Someone had planted and been watering them. Probably Shelby’s best friend, Jaya.
“Don’t even think about it,” she scolded Salisbury as he started to lift his leg.
He looked at her through his bushy eyebrows, seemed to decide his odds at getting inside hinged on whether or not he used the flowers as a watering spot, and made the right decision.
Colton took the steps two at a time, setting her gear down by the door. Then he fished in his front pocket and brought out a key.
“You still have a key to the front door?”
He shot her an innocent look. “Was I supposed to turn that in?”
A part of her was glad he hadn’t. “I’m a bit surprised you didn’t throw it away.”
“Yeah, well,”—he opened the door—“you know me.”
Rebellious, defiant, cheeky. Boy, did she know him. But he was also honest to a fault and equally as loyal to those he loved.
She could count on one hand how many people Colton Bells had ever loved. And one of them was technically a dog, not a person.
Although, Salisbury might add to that list. Colton seemed pretty attached to the mutt.
“Give me my walker.”
He started to swoop her off the swing. “I got you, Shel.”
“No.” She held up a hand to stop him, although a part of her wanted to be back in his arms. Her legs were exhausted, her head ready to split. The temptation to let him take care of her was overwhelming.
Lord, lead me not into temptation. “I want to do this. I have to.”
He raised his hands in acquiescence and stepped back, his eyes shuttering with that look she’d seen a million times. If there was one thing about Colton, he needed to be needed.
Another of their issues—she was Miss Independent and hated relying on anyone.
Look what good that had done her.
Colton was the one person she’d kidded herself into believing she didn’t need.
Tiredness and frustration burned in her veins, but she grabbed the metal of the walker and hauled herself to standing. Her leg was dead weight, but the fresh rush of adrenaline in her veins gave her a burst of strength. She made it the three steps to the door, Salisbury wagging and Colton watching her every move, hands hovering near her waist in case he needed to catch her.
Satisfied with her accomplishment, she smiled at him with a see? I did it look. He opened the door, the dog ran inside, and she let him help her across the threshold.
Snails moved faster than she did, but she huffed and puffed and got herself into the house, the cool interior a welcome relief after the heat outside. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and her whole body trembled.
“Living room?” Colton asked, glancing around. “Bedroom? Where do you want to land that cruiser?”
For half a second, her vision went white. Her stomach did a jig, threatening to bring up her earlier dinner. Too much stress.
The living room was closest. She blinked hard a few times, her vision returning. “Couch.”
“Couch it is.” Colton tossed his key on the hall table and whistled softly. “Love what you’ve done to the place, Shel.”
She followed his gaze to the long wall under the stairs. During their marriage, she’d hung family portraits from one end to the other, highlighting her and Colton’s wedding pictures in the center. It had been her version of a family tree and she’d pointedly left spaces for future little Bells.
Now the center of the wall was bare, only the faintest of outlines visible where the wedding pictures had hung.
She’d had to do it—remove those memories of a smiling, happy couple who had no idea what the coming years would heap on them. Every day when she’d passed by that couple, it had broken her heart all over again. Day after day, she’d died a little, until finally, she’d hit rock bottom, throwing the framed pictures to the floor and smashing the glass in every one of them.
It had been a childish thing to do and she’d felt worse after her temper tantrum. She’d ended up rescuing each of the photos and placing them in an album that now sat in her closet.
“I could use some tea,” she said, hoping to get out from under the judgmental air hanging between them. “Kettle is on the stove.”
He turned without looking at her. “Let’s get you settled first.”
She knew it took a lot for him not to insist on picking her up and carrying her to the couch, but he didn’t, standing nearby as she shuffle-walked at her snail’s pace into the living room.
That couch, though, was too damn far away. The shaking in her legs moved to her arms, her fingers white from gripping the walker so tightly.
Biting her lip and blinking away the tears of frustration stinging her eyes, she looked down at the floor, trying with all her might to will her leg to move.
“Recovery is a bitch, ain’t it?”
For once, his voice wasn’t sarcastic or teasing. It was soft, earnest. She met his eyes and saw the sincerity there.
“I think I may need…”
Help. The word choked her throat. “Dicks.”
His brows shot up. “Sorry?”
God, not again. Where had the word been earlier when she’d needed it? “Not…dicks. I can’t… The word… Gah!”
Raising a finger, he said, “Stay there for one second.”
She obeyed as he grabbed the nearest upholstered chair and slid it across the floor.
“If Mohammed can’t come to the mountain…” He let the rest of the saying hang as he held an open hand over the chair.
Instead of rushing to her rescue, he was allowing her a bit of dignity.
The relief was immediate and as he snugged the chair up against the back of her knees, she released her death grip on the walker and sank into it. “Thank you.”
A solid footstool was in front of the couch and he easily slid that over and helped her prop her feet on top.
“I’ll get that tea,” he said and disappeared.
Always taking care of me. If only she could go back and figure out where she’d gone wrong with him. Where she’d turned left and he’d gone right. Was it one thing or many over time that had worn them down?
Shelby played with her braid. If her memory didn’t return, how would she ever know?