The Colton Marine

He probably didn’t need a gun, though. But then he remembered the scream—her first one, which had been full of terror. She had seen something.

“I’ll check it out,” he told her as he turned toward the door. Before he could step through it, she closed her fingers around his arm.

“Wait!”

“What?” he asked. Maybe she just wanted him to leave. Maybe she didn’t believe that he wasn’t the someone or something who’d made her scream the first time.

“Be careful,” she urged him with obvious concern for his safety.

He held up the can he’d taken from her. “I have this.” He took her hand from his arm and pressed the canister into it. “On second thought, you keep it.”

She glanced down at it. “But why?”

“In case we really aren’t alone down here,” he said. “If there is an intruder, you’re going to need it.” He would have told her to leave, but he didn’t want her walking alone through the house or getting so far away from him that he couldn’t protect her from any potential danger. If she stayed in the basement with him, he could get back to her quickly if someone else was in the house. And she had the pepper spray for protection, as well.

She shivered again. But she closed her fingers around the can and clasped it tightly. “What about you—what will you use for protection?”

Images flashed through his mind—images of when he’d had to improvise in order to protect himself and his unit during combat. He flinched at the memories before focusing on her.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. He closed his hand over hers on the canister. “Don’t hesitate. Next time someone comes through that door, you spray.”

“But what if it’s you?”

“Then aim for my right eye,” he told her.

Her gaze moved toward his right eye—to the patch—and her lips parted on a gasp.

He turned away again then and stepped through the door before he was tempted to do something stupid—like kiss her. It was safer for him to take on an armed intruder in the dark than make a move on a woman armed with pepper spray.

* * *

Intruder?

Their voices emanated clearly from the speakers inside the hiding space, summoning anger from the person listening to them.

They were the intruders. Neither the woman nor the man had any business being inside La Bonne Vie. The man hadn’t appreciated the house when he’d lived there. And the woman...the one who’d opened the basement door and screamed...

No matter who her boss was, she absolutely had no business being here.

What had she seen? Had the light on her phone illuminated enough for her to make an identification? She hadn’t told the man anything specific about what she’d seen. She’d been vague, but maybe that had been on purpose. She would be smart to not trust him.

Trusting anyone was a mistake—one the listener would not make again. Nobody and nothing could be trusted.

So what had the young woman seen?

Enough to get her killed?

Probably.

The risk was too great to let her live. Whoever she was, she would have to die—like so many others already had to keep the listener’s secrets.

* * *

His remark had shocked her so much that Edith took a few seconds before remembering what else she’d learned from all the horror movies she had watched: people never go off separately. Once that happened, they were picked off one at a time. She hurried out of the utility room into the hall.

But River was gone.

Heat rushed to her face at how she’d screamed when she’d first seen him. He’d probably thought it was because of the scars and the patch. But it was because he was so big and muscular and handsome despite the scars. Her pulse had continued to race, even after she’d recognized him. The news mentioned him often when reporting about his missing mother. He was the Marine who’d just recently returned—wounded—from his last deployment.

The media speculated that he must have been involved in an explosion of some kind. Nobody had confirmed that speculation, though. The government wasn’t talking and neither was River Colton. But it was clear he’d been hurt. The scars on his face were still healing. And his right eye...

It was gone.

So it couldn’t have been River whom she’d seen at the bottom of the steps when she’d first opened the door to the basement. Edith had seen a pair of eyes, both glinting in the darkness.

Hadn’t she?

Or had she imagined it all like Mama used to imagine things—like Papa, long after he’d died?

Edith didn’t believe in ghosts. Whatever her mother had seen hadn’t been real.

What about what she’d seen?

What the hell had it been?

Despite the couple of lightbulbs that burned now in the basement corridor, the shadows were thick yet and still too dark to determine what each was. Edith wasn’t going to try to figure it out at the moment. She’d found what she’d been looking for in the basement—the electrical panel.

Since she’d flipped the breakers, she had no reason to return to the utility room, where River had told her to wait for him. She had no reason to linger in the basement at all. She headed toward the stairs leading back up to the kitchen.

River Colton could find her when he was done searching the cellar. Edith was not going to try to find him. She shuddered as she remembered how a hapless female character always found her boyfriend in the horror movie—bludgeoned or chopped up or...

Not that River was her boyfriend.

Nobody was her boyfriend. She hadn’t had one for a while. She didn’t have any time for dating. She was too busy with her job. And from what she’d seen of the house in the dark, she knew she was going to be even busier getting this place ready for her boss.

As she headed up the steps, she noticed the door at the top was closed. River must have shut it behind himself when he’d come down to investigate after hearing her scream. She wished he had left it open; then she would be able to see if any lights had come on upstairs when she’d flipped all the breakers.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach at the thought of moving again through that mess of a mansion with only the faint light of her phone. She peered beneath the door but could see only darkness.

The lamp she’d plugged in must not have cast a glow wide enough to be seen in the kitchen. And none of the lights in the kitchen must have come on. She glanced down at her phone. Fortunately, the battery had enough charge left that she wouldn’t lose that light. But she probably should have waited until morning to come out to La Bonne Vie.

She would have—had her uncle been home when she’d stopped by his ranch. But when she’d seen his truck was gone, she had driven over here. It was just next door. So she’d thought she might as well check to see if the power had been turned on as she’d requested.

She should have waited until morning, though. Then she wouldn’t feel as though she’d stepped into one of those movies she had watched so often as a kid, trying to act tough in front of the others in her foster home. She hadn’t just been acting, though.

She was tough. And independent and brave, she reminded herself as she reached for the handle of the door. But before she could close her fingers around the knob, it turned and the door opened.

A dark shadow loomed in the doorway above her. There was a light burning in the house behind him, but the dim glow only cast his face more in shadows as his wide shoulders filled the doorway.

Remembering River’s advice to use the pepper spray next time, she fumbled with the canister, but it slipped through her grasp and tumbled down the steps. Then she lost her footing, as well. Arms swinging, she began to fall backward just as that shadow reached toward her.

She must have screamed herself out earlier because even though she opened her mouth, no sound emanated from her hoarse throat. She could only gasp as she fell.

Chapter 3

From the bottom of the stairs, River saw it happening—saw her falling. He saw the dark shadow at the top of the stairs, saw it reaching for her. Or pushing her?

He rushed forward, but before he could catch her, the woman’s hand closed around the railing and she steadied herself. But he wrapped his arm around her small waist and pulled her aside, stepping between her and that threatening shadow.

She clutched at him as she tried to find her footing on the steps again. She wasn’t going to fall, though. He had her in his one arm while he swung his other toward that shadow.

Just before his fist connected, the other man stepped into the light. And River jerked his arm back, exclaiming, “Mac! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Mac replied. “That damn horse came back without you. I thought it threw you. That you might be hurt.” His dark gaze skimmed over River. “But you look fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was out riding—”

“Not you,” Mac said. He gestured behind River. “What are you doing here, Edith? When I was looking for him, I noticed your car parked out front by the fountain.”

The woman tugged free of River’s grip and leaned around him. “Hi, Uncle Mac.”

And now River realized why she looked so familiar. He’d seen pictures of her in Mac’s house. Of course, she’d been younger then—much younger. Just a little girl with thick braids and her front teeth missing. She’d certainly grown up since those old photos.

She must have been at Thorne’s wedding, though, since they were cousins. River had made himself scarce at the ceremony. He hadn’t stood in the receiving line, and he’d skipped the reception. He hadn’t wanted to draw any attention away from the bride and groom. And since he’d been back, people tended to stare at him. And ask intrusive questions about what had happened.

He didn’t want to think about what had happened, let alone talk about it.

“What are you doing here?” Mac asked his niece again.

“I—I stopped by the ranch earlier,” Edith replied. “But you weren’t there.”

“I was out with Evelyn,” Mac said. “But that doesn’t answer my question. What are you doing here—at La Bonne Vie?”

“You don’t know?” River asked. He knew Mac wasn’t particularly close to his niece; he had lost touch with her for years and felt bad about it. But River thought they’d reconnected during those ten years he’d been gone. Mac had written about her in some of the letters he’d sent River.

“No,” Mac said, and a muscle twitched along his tightly clenched jaw. “Edith, what are you doing here?”

“I told you I’m moving out of New Orleans, that I’m moving to Texas.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But you didn’t tell me you were going to move here, to La Bonne Vie.”

She shook her head, and her long hair bounced around her bare shoulders. She stood so close to River on the stairs that a few tendrils brushed across his cheek. It was so soft—so silky. “I’m not going to stay here. Not for long, anyway, just until...”

“Until what?” Mac asked. “What business do you have with La Bonne Vie?”

River turned toward her now, studying her beautiful face as she stared up at her uncle. “The business I work for—it bought the estate. My job is to get it ready.”

“Ready for what?” Mac asked. “Ready for who? I don’t even know who you work for.”

Hearing the pain in the other man’s voice, River turned toward him now. He felt as if he were intruding on a family moment. He’d often felt like that in his own home, though. In this home. But it had never really felt like home. Not when he’d been growing up here and certainly not now.

“This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this,” Edith said, and there was a coolness in her voice now that was nearly as chilly as the damp air in the basement.

“Why not?” Mac asked. “Your company owns this place now, right?”

“The company I work for,” Edith said. “Not me.”

“We’re trespassing,” River said. “At least that’s what she told me when I came inside here to see why she was screaming.”

Mac hurried down a few steps and reached out toward his niece, like he had been earlier. “You were screaming? Why? What happened?”

She shook her head. “It was nothing...”

“She spooked my horse,” River said.

“I—I thought I saw something—someone inside.” Her fingers skimmed over River’s arm. “Did you find anyone? Anything?”

He shook his head. Of course he hadn’t had time to do a thorough search. He’d heard the footsteps overhead—had heard the basement door creak open, and he’d rushed back to make sure she was safe, just as she’d been about to fall. “I didn’t see anything. But even with the power on, most of the lights are out down here. I couldn’t search thoroughly tonight. I can come back in the morning.”

“You’re not staying here,” Mac told Edith.

“Of course not,” she agreed. “I have a room booked at the local B and B.”

“Why?” Mac asked. “Why would you stay there and not with me?”

She uttered a soft sigh that River felt brush across his cheek. “I didn’t want to invite myself.”

“You’re family.” Mac turned around and headed up the stairs. “Come on, you two, let’s head back to the ranch.”

Edith clutched River’s arm now, tugging him back around to her. “You’re staying there?”

He’d had no place else to go.

“Of course,” Mac answered for him before he had the chance. “He’s family, too.” Only Thorne was his son. But Mac was the only father figure any of the Coltons had ever really known. Even before finding out Wes Kingston wasn’t his dad, River had never been close to the man—not like he was with Mac.

But Mac wasn’t really his father. He needed to find out who was. If the secret was anywhere, it was probably inside this house—in one of Livia’s hidden lairs.

“Why don’t you ride back with Edith,” River suggested to Mac, “and I’ll take another look around here before driving your truck back.”

“You just said you can’t search thoroughly until morning,” Edith reminded him, and there was suspicion in her voice now, like she was beginning to question his motives.

He couldn’t have that—not if he wanted to get back inside the house.

“You can ride with Mac in the truck,” she said, “and I’ll meet you both back at the ranch after I lock up.”

“You’re not staying here alone,” River said.

“I told you I’m coming back to the ranch—”

“Something could happen to you while you’re locking up,” River pointed out. Something to make her scream again like she had—with such terror it echoed inside River’s mind yet.

At the top of the steps, Mac turned back around and gestured for them to come up, too. “We’re all leaving together.”

Edith sighed, but she obeyed her uncle, heading up the stairs ahead of River. He couldn’t help but admire the sway of her hips beneath that long, gauzy skirt. And when she stepped into the material and nearly tumbled forward, he caught her around the tiny waist again and helped her up the rest of the way.

Her breath audibly caught and she pulled away from him as she reached the top. He couldn’t blame her. With the way he looked, he could understand why she wouldn’t want him touching her.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I just didn’t want you to fall.” Not wanting to see her revulsion, he turned back toward the stairs. So he didn’t see her face.

He only heard her murmur, “Thank you...”

But he did see something—maybe—at the bottom of the stairs. A glint in the darkness. Was that what she’d seen? What she’d thought might be human? He stepped closer and peered down, but the glint was gone.

And he couldn’t be certain what he’d seen—if anything. Hell, since losing his right eye, he didn’t quite trust his vision anymore.

“Come on, you two,” Mac urged them. “Let’s get the hell out of here and head back to the ranch.” It was no secret that he’d always hated coming up to the main house when he’d worked for Livia. And she had probably actually had more respect and affection for Mac than she’d had for the other men in her life—hell, even her own sons.

Just before he pushed shut the basement door, River glanced down those stairs again. The glint was back. It could have been eyes. Or maybe something shiny gleaming in the darkness. He couldn’t be certain.

But whatever it was unnerved him like it had Edith. He barely suppressed a shudder. There was something else inside this house, something that felt almost sinister.

* * *

Mac glanced across the truck console at where River sat quietly in the passenger’s seat. “Are you really okay?”

The wounded Marine had been quiet since he’d stepped out of the house. Not that that was unusual for River. He had always been a quiet kid. And since he’d been injured, he had become even more withdrawn.

River nodded, then snorted derisively. “Can’t believe you thought that horse threw me.”

“You haven’t been on a horse in years,” Mac reminded him. And he was still recovering from whatever had happened on that last deployment, but Mac didn’t have to remind him of that. He doubted it was ever far from River’s mind.

“Doesn’t matter,” River said. “I haven’t forgotten what you taught me.”

Mac had taught all the Colton kids to ride. River was nearly as good a rider as Thorne, who was probably second only to Jade.

“I wasn’t questioning your abilities,” Mac assured him. “It’s that damn stallion. He’s skittish and unpredictable.”

“So is your niece.”

Mac snorted now. “You don’t know Edith.” She was one of the strongest, most determined and driven women Mac had ever known. Not that he’d known her that long. Thanks to the nightmare that Livia Colton had made of his life, he’d lost track of his sister and his young niece. But that was his fault. He should have made time for Merrilee and Edith as well as Thorne and the other Colton kids. He’d always known his sister was fragile. He just hadn’t realized how fragile, however. Edith was nothing like her mother. But he wasn’t certain she knew that. While they had reconnected once she’d become an adult, she was still quite guarded with him. So guarded that he hadn’t even known the company for which she worked had bought La Bonne Vie.

“No, I don’t know Edith,” River admitted as he turned in the passenger’s seat and leaned slightly over the console. “Why don’t I know her?”

“You’ve been gone for ten years,” Mac said.

“But why don’t I know her from before then?” he asked. “I remember the pictures you had of her as a little girl, but I don’t remember her ever coming to visit. She’s from Louisiana, right?”

Mac uttered a sigh, but it didn’t ease any of the heaviness in his chest, any of the guilt. “Yeah, she grew up in New Orleans. I lost touch with my sister and her for a long time. I didn’t know...”

“Didn’t know what?” River asked.

“Didn’t know my sister had lost her husband and that she’d been struggling...”

“Financially?” River prodded when he’d trailed off.

Emotion choked Mac, and he could only shake his head. Even now he couldn’t talk about it—couldn’t think about it without the guilt overwhelming him.

Was that why River couldn’t talk about whatever had happened to him? Did he feel some form of guilt, as well—for surviving when others hadn’t?

Mac was glad the ranch was close, because he pulled into the driveway behind Edith’s car and cut the engine and the conversation.

But River wasn’t fooled. “Guess I’m not the only one who has things he’d rather not talk about.”

Mac sighed. “I can’t change the past,” he said. “So there’s no point in discussing it.”

“Exactly,” River agreed.

But Mac wasn’t as convinced that was true for River. Maybe he needed to talk about it, to work through it and get beyond it. Before he could suggest that, River opened the passenger door and slipped out. He didn’t stop, either—he headed straight for the barn. Hopefully he didn’t intend to take that damn horse out for another ride.

“Hey,” he called after him. “Aren’t you coming inside?”

River didn’t even turn back—just shook his head and continued to walk away.

“Where’s he going?” Edith asked as she stared after his broad back. “I thought he was staying with you.”

“He’s staying in the apartment in the barn,” Mac said. “I tried to get him to stay in the house...”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Mac shrugged. “He said he might disturb me.”

“How?” she asked.

Mac glanced down at his niece’s face, her dark gaze locked yet on River. She seemed awfully fascinated with the ex-Marine. While Mac loved River like a son, he wasn’t sure the man would be good for anyone right now. He’d been through so much and probably had more than physical wounds.

“I think it’s the nightmares.” Even with River in the barn, he heard him sometimes—heard the shouting. It sounded like he was trying to warn someone.

Edith shivered.

“Let’s get inside,” he said.

She turned toward him now and shook her head. “I really can’t stay. I have that room in town—”

“It would make more sense for you to stay here,” he said. “So you’ll be close to the estate, if you really intend to go back there.”

“I have to,” she said. But she didn’t sound particularly eager to return.

Mac couldn’t blame her. He hated that house, most of all he hated the memories it held for him. But like he’d told River, he couldn’t change the past, so there was no sense in dwelling on it. He slid his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the front porch.

Before they reached the stairs, though, she pulled away from him. A pang struck his heart. Would she ever forgive him for not being there for her when she’d needed him? She’d claimed, when they’d reconnected a half a dozen years ago, that she harbored no resentment—that she understood. But was that how she really felt?

Then he understood why she’d pulled away when she reached inside her purse and pulled out a vibrating cell phone. At least he hoped that was the reason.

“I have to take this,” she said, but yet she hesitated.

And he realized why—she didn’t want him to overhear her call. Was it from a boyfriend?

Or her mysterious employer?

Mac swallowed a sigh of disappointment that he wouldn’t find out—because he had to respect her privacy. But he was worried that the secrets Edith was keeping might put her in danger, especially if she insisted on going back to La Bonne Vie alone.

* * *

Edith waited until the front door closed behind her uncle before she called Declan back. He had only let the phone ring a few times before hanging up moments ago. That was the way he was—too busy to waste his time.

He’d even been like that when they were kids.

Of course he wouldn’t want to talk to her if she was with someone, either. He was fanatical about maintaining his privacy—especially in Shadow Creek. He’d come to town once when she’d been visiting her uncle, but he’d declined meeting Mac. She suspected, though, that Mac wasn’t whom he hadn’t wanted to meet.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey, you alone now?”

“Yes...” But as she said it, she glanced around—making certain. She didn’t feel alone; she hadn’t since she’d stepped through the front door of La Bonne Vie.

“Good.”

He was obviously alone, as well. She felt a pang of regret over that; her boss was usually alone. But he always claimed that was the way he wanted it. It must have been, because, with his good looks and money, he could have any woman he wanted. But like her, he was too busy for relationships and too smart to want one.

“When do you plan to go to the estate in the morning?” he asked.

“I already checked out the place tonight,” Edith said.

“Of course you have,” he murmured with satisfaction. “What’s the situation?”

“The power has been turned on,” Edith said. “But I almost wish it hadn’t been.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Because I can see how much work I have to do,” she said. “The place is a mess, Declan. It’s going to take major work if you want it to be inhabitable.”

“All it takes to be inhabitable is power and running water,” he said.