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Colton's Deadly Disguise
Colton's Deadly Disguise

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Colton's Deadly Disguise

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For an undercover duo,

investigating a beauty pageant turns ugly.

When Bella Colton undergoes a makeover to enter a beauty pageant, she’s on a mission. She’s determined to find out why her best friend died. Enter undercover FBI agent Holden St. Clair. Holden’s hot on the heels of a serial killer, who has Bella in his crosshairs. As the chemistry between Bella and Holden sparks, can they capture the murderer in their midst?

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

Also by Geri Krotow

Colton’s Mistaken Identity

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

The Pregnant Colton Witness

The Billionaire’s Colton Threat

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Colton’s Deadly Disguise

Geri Krotow


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90514-9

COLTON’S DEADLY DISGUISE

© 2020 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

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To Alex

It’s such a joy to see the thoughtful,

compassionate man you’ve become.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

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

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Isabella Colton pulled up to Mustang Valley High School fighting a sense of urgency that wasn’t usually her gig. Normally she absorbed every mile of scenery as she drove between her home nestled on the outskirts of Mustang Valley and into the town proper. Saguaro cacti sprinkled spots of green across the southeastern Arizona desert; many of the desert flowers were abloom, their hues of fuchsia, crimson and cream a stark contrast to the constant cactus green. But she’d noticed none of them today, and barely even registered the way the deep blue sky contrasted with the pale coral, violets and browns that made up the sandstone horizon.

Why, when she’d finally settled into her career as a journalist, was she all of a sudden feeling so stressed? Was it because she knew so much was riding on this assignment? Or the fact that she’d deliberately lied to her triplet brothers—Spencer, a Mustang Valley PD sergeant, and Jarvis, a businessman currently working as a ranch hand—when they’d asked why she couldn’t meet them today for lunch.

Could it be because you’re going against every principle you hold closest to your heart?

Maybe. Choosing to sign up as a contestant in the Ms. Mustang Valley Pageant was certainly out of her wheelhouse. As in, out in space from her true beliefs. But she was willing to do whatever it took to get the story, this story, right.

She’d been a reporter for the Lifestyle section of the Mustang Valley Gabber for over three years. It was time to break out, to write about subjects she was passionate about. More than anything, Bella longed to get to the truth of life, subject by subject. This was who she was, and she’d known it ever since she’d lost her parents when she was ten years old. There were a lot of things she couldn’t control in life, but when she could, she wanted to get to the bare facts.

Since she’d accepted that reporting was her talent, she didn’t want to waste another minute on articles that no longer interested her. It wasn’t fair to her readers or to her. She’d written enough lifestyle and fashion pieces for the Gabber to last her lifetime.

It was time to make a change. Bella wanted to make a difference.

For years, she’d had to watch her best friend, Gio, do everything to fit what she believed to be the pageant lifestyle; from starving herself to paying thousands of dollars she didn’t have for unnecessary collagen and Botox injections that began in her early twenties. Last year, Gio paid the final, irrevocable price when she died due to malnutrition and other effects of her eating disorders. At first glance, deciding to enter the exact culture that had killed Gio seemed counterintuitive. But not when she reminded herself why she was doing this—to out the people who had killed her best friend.

Bella needed the inside dirt on this pageant, and the only way to catch this fly would be with a generous dollop of honey, according to what Gio had told her over the six months before her death, just under a year ago.

Heartache mingled with grief at the reminder of Gio’s death and Bella’s irretrievable loss. Tears swelled and blurred the view of where the Arizona horizon and blue sky met in Mustang High School’s parking lot. Bella’s heart constricted at the natural beauty she and Gio had often shared on long hikes through the desert, or to the local lake, next to an abandoned silver mine that they both loved so much. Until Gio’s disease weakened her too much to make the treks. Gio’s precipitous demise had been a shock, the years of illness finally ending her too-short life.

Bella owed it to Gio and every woman. Too many, including Gio, had suffered from the constant dieting and negative body image that pageants—and society as a whole—had so vilely infected them with. Bella owed it to them to expose the people and institutions that perpetuated their suffering. While she couldn’t go after the entire pageant industry, she was able to delve into Ms. Mustang Valley, where Gio’s problems, according to her friend, had all began. If she could keep this in mind, instead of her constant grief for her bestie, she’d get this assignment right.

What hurt the most right now was that all Gio had wanted from this particular pageant was the scholarship prize to Mustang Valley Community College. Gio would never go to school again, ever.

“Stop this right now. Pull it together, Colton.” She flipped the decrepit old station wagon’s visor down to use the mirror and dabbed at her tears, grateful she’d chosen the makeup with a waterproof label on it. She bolstered her spirits by sniffing the inside of her wrist, where she’d applied her favorite perfume. The soothing floral scent was a signature Parisian brand she’d noted on Kristi Sparkle, the supermodel who’d passed through Mustang Valley just a few weeks ago. It had been a fun gala at Mustang Valley town hall, where Bella had been able to interview the not-yet-thirty-year-old woman for a good fifteen minutes. It had made Bella grateful that in all of her thirty-one years she’d never held a job that required her to be anyone but herself. And while she’d maintained her weight she worked hard to do it. Healthy eating and lots of physical activity. Except when she had a pressing deadline, when Bella’s coworkers knew to stay out of the line between her and the chocolate-chip cookies at the local bakery.

Bella’s job as a journalist for the paper and blogger for its website afforded her an inside glimpse into the lives of the more affluent citizens of Mustang Valley, Arizona. It often put her in the position of experiencing events she’d only ever seen on television as a child. The only girl of three siblings, her first two decades had been tumultuous with Mom’s and Dad’s deaths when she and her brothers were only ten. Then, Aunt Amelia had raised them, but she never let them forget that she’d sacrificed the best years of my life to do so.

It’d taken a while for Bella to let go of the guilt her relief at Aunt Amelia’s passing ten years ago had caused. At twenty-one, Bella hadn’t comprehended that her sense of relief was absolutely normal.

Her professors at Arizona State had expressed their sympathy and compassion for her loss, for not having a parental figure at her graduation the following May. But to Bella, Aunt Amelia’s death had been when her true life began. When she was able to make her own decisions without the looming negative comments Aunt Amelia doled out like thistles on a hiking trail. Those thorns were able to sneak into the oddest places such as the sole of a shoe or inside the back of a shirt; their sting was always guaranteed.

“Okay. You’ve got this.” She spoke to her reflection, popped the visor back up and got out of the car. It’d been thirteen years, but MVHS still had the aura of countless life lessons about it, including when she’d tried to sneak a cigarette in the girls’ restroom and skipped out on lunchtime. In both instances her nemesis Mrs. Maple had caught her and none-too-compassionately marched her down to Principal Kenner’s office. Bella grinned, remembering the expression on Aunt Amelia’s face when she’d been called in over Bella’s truancy. It’d only been over one lunch period, to get a tattoo with her best friend. Bella reached up to rub her shoulder for good luck, where the small angel rested, but stopped herself. She’d put professional concealer over the symbol of her friendship with Gio, as the Ms. Mustang Valley Pageant did not allow visible tattoos. Bella sniffed. Another good reason to eschew the event.

You’re doing this for Gio.

The building itself had undergone a recent facelift; bright teal roofing and matching painted trim stood out against the dark bricks and highlighted the elegance of the grand dame of Mustang Valley. Originally the town market during the mid-nineteenth century, the building had been expanded upon and modernized over the last century and a half. It truly was a beautiful piece of Mustang Valley charm. Had she really managed to avoid this place for the better part of ten years?

Bella teetered on the kind of espadrille wedges she probably hadn’t worn since high school, either. She bent down to tighten the ankle strap, not needing to make a fool of herself by twisting an ankle before she even submitted her application.

Today was the last day to enter the competition. A quick glance at her phone confirmed that she had a full fifteen minutes to turn in her application with attached résumé, photos and birth certificate. A certificate she’d thought long and hard about forging, but would it really gain her the edge she desired? She was well within the eighteen-to-thirty-five-year-old limit. She’d been working for the Mustang Valley Gabber long enough. It’d been Bella’s goal for the last couple of years to move out of the Gabber and get to a bigger news outlet. If she were ever to be the kind of reporter she believed she could be, this was her most realistic chance.

She had to convince the pageant board that she wanted to do this, for real.

The front entrance of the school was clean and bright, as she always remembered. The relentless Arizona sun beat on her shoulders, bared by the strapless red-and-white-striped top she’d chosen to go with the white capri pants. The outfit was totally out of character for Bella; she preferred simple lines, be it in jeans or a sundress. But she had to come across as a serious contestant, and that meant she had to scream “glamour.” She’d even had red highlights woven into her ash-blond locks, something she’d never considered previously. Tattoos, piercings, sure, but her hair was something she’d never dyed before. To her initial chagrin, the highlights had blended into her hair to make it all appear red, a strawberry blond shade. Gio had had red hair, and Bella decided her matching color was a good-luck charm from beyond. Tears again threatened and she sniffed them away, lifted her chin and straightened her spine.

Bella opened the school’s front door and walked into the lobby.

She gave herself a moment to take it all in. A lot had changed over the past several years. The first thing her gaze landed on was a metal detector, but before she could assess the rest of the entrance she was stopped by a police officer.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I need to see inside your bag.” The man was tall and fit, not unlike Spencer. Dark hair, and what looked like even darker eyes but she couldn’t be sure as they were downcast, his gaze following his hand as he moved a stick through her large white leather designer bag. As he searched, she checked his name badge to ask Spencer about him later. Or, maybe strike a conversation now. She was on the clock as far as her undercover report was concerned.

He didn’t have a name badge, and a closer look revealed he wasn’t MVPD at all but rather, private security. The dark blue uniform was so similar in appearance to Mustang Valley PD’s that it was an easy mistake to make.

“I thought MVPD had an officer here at all times.” As soon as she spoke her mind she wanted to bite her tongue. She was here on an undercover assignment. Not the time to reveal her knowledge of the local community. Be a pageant contestant, not a blogger.

“When the students are present, yes, they do. But not during weekends and spring break. I’m pageant security.”

“Oh.” She looked at him and wished she had some handy banter. He was undeniably attractive, but with an air of stiff reserve. She opened her mouth to start a friendly conversation but he wasn’t interested.

“Name?” Cold brown eyes assessed her and she stiffened, fighting the urge to take a step backward. An aura of authority exuded from this man and she couldn’t help but wonder if he did something else.

“There’s not a visitors’ list—no one knows I’m entering.” She wasn’t about to be intimidated.

He held up a handwritten logbook. “I’m required to enter each name, for the pageant authorities to verify that they have received every application.”

“Isabella Colton.” His heavy, albeit well-sculpted, brows didn’t budge from their place that reflected his intense focus as he wrote her name on what looked like maybe the twentieth line on the page.

Bella ignored her anxiety over how many contestants there might be. More would be better, as it would allow her to blend in more readily. If there were only twenty, she’d have to work at participation while gathering information for her report.

“ID?” He held out his hand without looking back up. She retrieved her Arizona driver’s license, placed it carefully on his palm.

“Is this a part-time thing for you?” She smiled as she imagined a beauty contestant would, fluttered her lashes, ignored the two that stuck together. This glamour gig was not as easy as it had looked in the several pageants she’d studied online during her preliminary research. Her research yielded enough ammunition to warrant her entering the pageant. Of all the Arizona pageants, the Ms. Mustang Valley competition reflected the highest number of winners who’d later admitted to having mental illness, an eating disorder, or both. Most had gone public with their struggles once their year’s reign was up, in order to both keep their scholarship intact, yet also provide public outreach to young women who found themselves in the grips of the same vicious diseases.

The security guard cleared his throat and she all but physically shook her head.

Worry about the research later. You’re a contestant right now.

She still wasn’t certain about which talent she’d choose. It was a sad competition between oratory skills, i.e. reading a Samuel Clemens Langhorne or Mark Twain poem, or performing a Hula hoop routine she’d choreographed in seventh grade with Gio to their favorite bubblegum pop hit.

He handed her ID and bag back, the tips of their fingers briefly making contact. “You can step through the metal detector now. The pageant committee is on the stage, in the theater, through the second doors on your right.” His deep voice revealed nothing but professionalism. The security dude wasn’t going to be an ally in her quest to uncover this pageant’s deepest secrets. At least she knew from the start. She wouldn’t waste any more energy on him. There were more important sources to mine.

Bella walked under the metal frame and when the detector didn’t sound, she didn’t look back. Forward was the only direction to achieve some kind of justice for Gio.

Wondering why the fleeting contact with this man moved her more than it should have wasn’t worth her time.

Except, if she found out what else he did for a living, other than work as a pageant security guard, it might make an interesting side item for her investigative piece. She chuckled under her breath as she headed for the auditorium.


FBI Agent Holden St. Clair took a swig of water as he took his post offstage in the high school theater. The area between the side curtains allowed him to watch each contestant as they were interviewed, observe the pageant board members and keep an eye on the contestants who’d already been interviewed but now were seated on the stage, waiting until the entire process was over. The early birds got to see all of the interviews, which he supposed was some kind of pageant advantage. Holden didn’t care. His job was to keep the building secure. He’d gone back and forth between here and the school entrance for the last eight hours.

It had been a long day.

After all contestants had finished today they’d be asked to leave and then only the ones who received a callback would return tomorrow for the start of the pageant preparation.

He’d had to stifle a laugh when his supervisor had told him he was assigned to work undercover at the Ms. Mustang Valley Pageant. His life experience to date included serving overseas while still in the army, and several different investigations as an FBI agent, including a few serial killer cases, not working as a security guard—even though he was hunting a murderer now.

Something about Mustang Valley was bothering him, ever since he’d driven into the modest-size town. His assignment was straightforward: observe and protect the pageant from the possibility of a serial killer who’d struck at two previous pageants earlier this year in Arizona. He was doing this undercover, with minimal other Law Enforcement Agency, LEA, involvement for now. Besides the director of Arizona pageants, who’d hired him, Holden had an inside LEA connection in town: his army buddy Spencer Colton, who worked at Mustang Valley PD with his K-9 companion Boris. After he’d spoken to Spencer on the phone, they’d met up at a restaurant in Tucson, so that Holden’s cover as a security guard wouldn’t be compromised. Spencer had given him the scoop on Mustang Valley and in particular the high school’s blueprints, security footprint and the background on each of the Ms. Mustang Valley Pageant board members. The pageant board included Hannah Rosenstein, a MVHS Spanish teacher, Selina Barnes Colton—Colton Payne’s ex and a rabid socialite who frankly, from what he’d read, was going to be a real pain in the neck—and several local business owners. So far he’d not found any reason to suspect any of them of wrongdoing but it was his job to remain alert.

Spending time with Spencer had been great and he’d been delighted to find out Spencer had fallen for a woman he planned to spend the rest of his life with. Spencer teased him, said Holden’s turn was coming. Holden blew off Spencer’s sentiments. After being so badly burned by his ex he had no room for anything more than short-lived hookups. Working a serial killer case left no time for that, either.

As much as Spencer assured him that he’d be a perfect fit in Mustang Valley, and that the openness of the citizens would hopefully expose the killer sooner, Holden had been on edge ever since he’d driven into Mustang Valley’s historical downtown. Surrounded by so much Southwest American history, it was easy to forget he was here to investigate a serial killer who preyed upon beauty contestants, redheads in particular. So far all of the Ms. Mustang Valley contestants had been blonde or brunette, and he’d wondered if this pageant might escape the notice of the predator. Until Isabella Colton walked in with those red streaks in her hair. And green eyes, eyes he’d find attractive if he didn’t know they’d be like bull’s-eyes to the killer. Both of the previous victims had red hair, and green eyes.

He made a mental note to let Spencer know that Isabella was applying to compete in the pageant. He assumed it was Spencer’s sister, Bella, that he’d talked about. While the Colton name was huge throughout the country, and especially in Mustang Valley, where one part of the family had made itself a billion-dollar oil empire, he doubted there were many Bella Coltons in this two-horse town. The pageant director, also a Colton, was a typical rich socialite, and he didn’t think she was a close relation to Spencer or his probable sister. Like any other large, extended family, the Coltons had many branches. Spencer was from a modest background, and had been quick to let Holden know it when they were serving together.

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