Runaway Colton

In the newest Coltons of Texas romance, a woman framed for a heinous crime falls for the man who must bring her safely home

Wrongfully accused of masterminding her adoptive father’s disappearance, Piper Colton needs answers. So she leaves the family ranch behind to embark on a dangerous mission...but she’s not alone for long. Her brother enlists the help of Cord Maxwell—a local bounty hunter—to ensure his sister’s safe return. But Cord has an agenda of his own, and it’s not just to avoid falling for the Colton beauty! He promises to help her in exchange if she’ll help him track down his runaway niece—and stay with him. It’s an offer she cannot resist and a powerful attraction she cannot deny...

“Are you flirting?”

Though Piper colored, she didn’t look away. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m trying to find out where we stand with each other. I also noticed you didn’t answer the question.”

Cord laughed; he couldn’t help it. “I’d have to be dead not to find you attractive,” he told her. “But don’t worry, I won’t let it get in the way of the job I have to do. Or finding Renee. Both are too important to me.”

Color still high, she finally smiled back. “Fair enough. Now how about we call it a night and regroup in the morning?”

Though it was still early, he nodded. “Okay. Good night.”

She sighed. “I’m probably going to regret this, but...”

Before he could ask what she meant, she crossed the space between them, grabbed him and pulled him down for a kiss. Her mouth moved across his, nothing tentative about it. A wave of lust swamped him. Damn if it wasn’t the most erotic kiss he’d ever shared.

Standing stock-still, he let her nibble and explore, until he couldn’t take it any longer.

* * *

We hope you enjoy this dramatic series—

The Coltons of Texas: Finding love and buried family secrets in the Lone Star State...

Runaway Colton

Karen Whiddon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amid the gorgeous Catskill Mountains, then the majestic Rocky Mountains, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty surrounding her. Karen now lives in north Texas, writes full-time and volunteers for a boxer dog rescue. She shares her life with her hero of a husband and four to five dogs, depending on if she is fostering.

You can email Karen at [e-mail]. Fans can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com.

As always, to my beloved husband, Lonnie.

You are the inspiration for every love story I write.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

“I was framed.” Back ramrod straight, clenching her hands into fists so her adoptive brother and sister wouldn’t see how badly they shook, Piper Colton kept her voice perfectly level. “You have to realize that.”

“Framed.” Marceline Colton snorted, making her elegant, gem-encrusted earrings swing. “Right. Piper, you were arrested. The police wouldn’t have arrested you unless they had sufficient evidence. I think finding Eldridge’s bloody shirt in your closet might have been the final clue.”

“I saved up to buy that shirt for him one Christmas when I was sixteen. You know that.”

“Now it’s evidence,” Marceline continued, her voice as icy as her pale blue, flawlessly made-up eyes. “Apparently enough evidence for them.” She sneered, her bright red lipstick a bright slash of color in her alabaster face. “Where’s your trademark optimism now?”

“It’s all circumstantial. They don’t even have a body.” Piper spoke with confidence, despite the fact that her own family’s suspicion hurt her heart.

“I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before they find the body,” Marceline declared. Even at home, every strand of her golden-blond hair appeared perfect. When Piper had been younger, she’d been envious of Marceline’s movie star appearance. Now, understanding the amount of work that went into maintaining that look, it only made Piper feel tired. Plus, Marceline might be gorgeous on the outside, but her inner self was an entirely different matter.

“That’s true,” Fowler Colton agreed, his cold blue eyes intense. As usual, he wore one of his custom suits and perfectly pressed black Stetsons. “Come on, Piper. You can tell us. Did you kill Eldridge?”

Though Piper wanted to double over at the amount of pain his question caused, by sheer strength of will she managed to remain expressionless. Her natural optimism hadn’t fled—it had just gone into temporary hiding. “How can you ask me such a thing? Why on earth would I murder my own father?”

“Adoptive father,” Marceline reminded her. “You’re not a real Colton, after all.”

As if she could forget. Not possible, with Marceline finding a way to remind her of that fact at least once a day. Piper figured this was Marceline’s way of dealing with her own insecurity, since Marceline hadn’t been born a Colton, either. However, since her mother, Whitney, was actually married to Eldridge Colton, Marceline clearly figured that put her one step above Piper, who’d been orphaned when Whitney and Eldridge adopted her.

“Think of what you’re doing to poor Whitney,” Fowler said, the disapproval in his voice matching the disgusted expression on his face. “She took you in, adopted you, cared for you, and you repay her by killing her husband. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Piper.”

Piper opened her mouth and then closed it. She had the strangest urge to laugh, but reined it in lest they label her insane, as well. “You know me, Fowler. How could you think I’d kill anyone, let alone Eldridge? I won’t even squash a spider.”

Marceline snorted. “Well, obviously this time you must have figured you had more to gain.”

Looking from one to the other, Piper shook her head. “No matter how many times I tell you I didn’t do it, you’ll never believe my innocence, will you?”

“Nope,” Marceline responded promptly. She and Fowler exchanged identical smug smiles, making Piper wonder if they’d high-five each other next. She’d long ago given up on trying to figure out why the two of them disliked her so much. At least she still had T.C., Reid and Alanna, her other siblings. She’d bet they’d believe her.

“You know I’ve been mourning Eldridge,” Piper began, hoping to try again. “I love—loved—him. Why would anyone believe I’d harm him?”

“Maybe you know something we don’t.” Marceline smirked. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him. Did you convince him to change his will and leave you a lot of money?”

The idea was so ludicrous Piper gasped. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not hardly.” Marceline watched her like a hawk watching a mouse. “You’ve always envied those of us who are better off than you.”

“I give up.” Piper threw up her hands. “Clearly, there’s nothing I can say that will make you believe I’m not a killer.”

“Convince us,” Fowler said. “Give us the reason that shirt was in your closet.”

That was easy. “It was planted.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know,” Piper cried. “I need your help to find out who would do such a thing and why.”

“I don’t believe you.” Marceline curled her brightly painted lips in disgust.

“Neither do I.” Fowler and Marceline exchanged knowing glances before he turned back to Piper. “And if your own family thinks you’re guilty,” Fowler continued, “how are you ever going to convince a jury that you’re not?”

Piper stared, praying her eyes didn’t reveal the hurt. She felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. Leave it to Fowler. Nothing like going for the gusto. Except as he usually managed to do, Fowler had hit upon the crux of the problem.

Because he was right. If she didn’t take matters into her own hands, she’d be going to jail for a crime she hadn’t committed. It would be up to her to find the real killer and quickly, before her hearing.

“Cat got your tongue?” The vitriol in Marceline’s voice made Piper wonder for the hundredth time what she’d ever done to make her older adoptive sister despise her.

Like Marceline, Fowler waited, his gaze hooded and secretive. As long as she’d known him, the eldest Colton had constantly worked every angle, pulling invisible strings behind the scenes to help him obtain his goal, whatever that might be.

Still, they were family and their accusations felt like a knife straight through her heart.

Looking at the two people who should have been on her side, even if blood didn’t form any ties, Piper finally understood she was wasting her time. She could explain and rationalize until she turned blue, but Marceline and Fowler had already made up their minds. They believed her arrest had been warranted. They actually thought her capable of murder—not just murder—but the slaying of someone she loved.

This knowledge hurt more than she would have believed possible. While Marceline had never been kind to her, to consider her a murderess?

In that instant, Piper realized what she would have to do. For a person who always, without exception, did the right thing, running would be a bitter pill to swallow. But better than going to prison for a crime she hadn’t committed.

Even worse, she hadn’t gotten a chance to fully mourn Eldridge yet. Of course, until she actually saw his body, she refused to believe he was dead.

Too bad the police didn’t think the same way.

Pushing away the sheer terror turning her blood to ice, she managed to incline her head, hopefully gracefully, as she moved toward the stairs. “I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me.”

Though both siblings continued to glare at her, neither responded. She didn’t dare breathe until she’d gotten out of their sight.

All her life she’d known if she wanted to get something done, she’d have to do it herself. This temporary snag would be no exception. Since no one else seemed inclined to locate the real killer, she’d simply have to do it herself. Even if she had to break the law to find the truth.

Once she reached her room, she hurried inside and locked the door. Then, she dug her old backpack from her closet and began to fill it with her clothes. She took three pairs of jeans, five long-sleeved shirts and two short-sleeved, underwear, bras and socks. She’d recently purchased a new pair of sneakers and hadn’t worn them yet, so they went on top, along with black flip-flops.

Removing her slip-on flats, she put on socks and her favorite pair of boots. Texas weather this time of year could be mercurial. Heat waves and cold snaps made it difficult to predict what she’d need, so she took a little of everything.

Tying a lightweight jacket around her waist, she gathered up her favorite cosmetics and dropped that bag into her oversize purse.

Now, she’d need to slip out of the house and get to the bank. Though she hated to empty her savings account, especially since she’d gotten so close to having enough to open her own business, she didn’t see that she had a choice.

Not if she wanted to stay free long enough to find out who really had kidnapped or killed Eldridge Colton.

* * *

If the day got any worse, Cord Maxwell figured he’d have to close up the office and go home. Not only had he failed to turn up a single lead on his missing niece, Renee, but after he paid the electric bill, he wouldn’t have too much leftover for food.

“Maybe you’ll have to start sharing your dog food with me,” he told Truman, the mangy mutt he’d rescued from the Kaufman County shelter a year ago. In pure Truman form, the skinny dog didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

Earlier today, when Cord had taken Truman for his midmorning walk, some snooty woman in designer clothes had sniffed and called Truman ugly. It had taken every bit of restraint Cord possessed not to tell her off. Instead, he’d managed a mild “Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, now isn’t it?” Then, unable to resist a scornful sweeping glance that hopefully told her he found her lacking, he led Truman away. Cord couldn’t understand how anyone couldn’t see the beauty in Truman’s caramel-colored eyes and jaunty plumed tail.

At least he had a forty-pound bag of Truman’s favorite lamb-and-rice dog food. Cord would go hungry if he had to, but his dog would always be fed.

Money again. Everything circled back around to that. He’d been in tight spots before and made it through by using credit cards to fill in the gaps. If he had to, he’d do that again.

Except for the one debt that required cash. Today he had to go visit Lorraine Berens, the once-wealthy widow his father had scammed out of money. He’d gone to her upon learning what his father had done and sworn to make it right. But this time, instead of making his usual payment of restitution, he’d have to explain his sad financial situation and promise to make it up to her as soon as he could.

Without any real work looming on the horizon, he wasn’t actually sure when that would be. He’d been so consumed with his search for Renee that he’d turned down too many jobs without thinking of the consequences.

Sinking down into his worn leather desk chair, he stared at the too-silent phone and willed it to ring. If only Renee would call and let him know she was all right. At least maybe then he could stop his gut from constantly churning.

Renee had been a surly sixteen-year-old when she’d come to live with him after the death of both her parents in a drunk driving accident. Her mother, Denice, had always been a hard partier, which had gotten worse when she’d married Joshua Barnes, who played bass guitar in a band. She’d quit when she’d gotten pregnant, but by the time Renee turned two, Denice had gone right back to her old ways. Cord rarely heard from her. She’d been driving drunk when she’d caused the accident that had killed her and Joshua and left a rebellious teenager an orphan.

Cord had tried—he really had—but he’d had no idea how to be a father to a sixteen-year-old who thought she was too cool for him and his life in a boring small town. His attempts at setting boundaries and rules had come too little too late and were laughed at and scorned.

For two years, every time they’d argued, Renee had told him she couldn’t wait until she turned eighteen. She’d given him plenty of warning, he’d give her that. But still, he’d been surprised as hell when he’d come home from work to find her meager belongings had vanished, along with her.

In that instant, he’d seen her future. He’d tried to help his older sister, but failed. He couldn’t let her daughter down. He had to find Renee and save her from herself.

Looking around the small, wood-paneled office from where he operated his business, he knew he’d risk everything he had to accomplish that.

He could almost see Sam shaking his head. Sam Ater had started S.A. Enterprises, Private Investigation and Fugitive Recovery. Years ago, when Cord had been assigned to him on a high school internship, Sam had taught the teenager everything there was to know. Cord would forever be grateful for Sam, who’d seen something in an insecure, poor teenager back in the day. Sam had taken Cord in and taught him the business. Unlike many of his classmates, Cord hadn’t the funds or the desire to go to college. The military held no appeal, either, but thanks to Sam, none of that mattered. Once Cord graduated, Sam had offered him a job.

Cord had a place to go after high school. Sam had not only given him a job, but a lifelong career.

Cord had gotten licensed and found his true vocation. He’d enjoyed going to work every single day. The business Sam had built, a respected fugitive recovery agency as well as private investigation firm, was an operation that not only operated within the law, but had an 89 percent success rate, something that placed them in the top tier of their industry.

The two men had formed a team. Cord had considered Sam a friend as well as his boss.

Sam had passed away a couple years ago from lung cancer, shortly before Renee had arrived. It had been a quick death, two weeks after he’d been diagnosed.

Somehow Cord kept the business running and had been there, helping his friend as much as he was able. The day Sam died, Cord had closed S.A. Enterprises and gone fishing, since he’d promised Sam he would. Well, more beer drinking than fishing, though he’d kept a pole in the water. He’d mourned Sam out at the lake, saluted him and the moon with a beer can, and returned to work the next day sober, sad and hungover.

Sam left everything to Cord. Cord had been honored, realizing he’d had mighty big boots to fill.

Thinking of his old friend brought back the sense of loss. He had to wonder, what would Sam think if he could see him now?

While Sam would never have suspected Cord would let the finances get this bad, Cord knew the old man would have understood Cord’s need to find the runaway teen. Both men knew firsthand the kind of evil that walked in the world.

Still, if he didn’t want to lose the business Sam had spent years building, Cord needed to figure out a way to keep it running while he searched for his niece.

Sighing, he leafed through his notebook and reviewed all the places Renee wasn’t. He always kept meticulous notes.

The names and phone numbers of the jobs he’d turned away were in a manila folder on the corner of his desk. He couldn’t say how many times he’d eyed the damn thing and thought about opening it. Maybe one or two of them might still need his services. Though he’d bet they’d all hired somebody else. The problem was, he needed a fairly quick and simple job that wouldn’t interfere with his search for Renee.

He grabbed a can of diet cola from the mini-fridge and popped the top. Taking a long swig, he knew he’d better get out of the office and take another shot at locating Renee. He’d broaden his horizons this time. Since he’d already checked all over town, he’d head toward Dallas. Since Dallas was a big city, the sheer size and number of suburbs would complicate things. He figured he’d search suburb by suburb first, hoping Renee had found a waitressing job in one of the smaller communities.

The front door opened, hinges squeaking. Though Sam had always kept them oiled with WD-40, Cord had stopped after Sam died. He actually liked the sound. He figured it let him know when someone entered or left the office.

A well-dressed man stepped inside. His business suit looked custom-made and expensive, just like the ostrich skin cowboy boots he wore on his feet.

“Cord Maxwell?” the man asked, glancing around the sparsely furnished room. “I’m—”

“I know who you are.” Cord got to his feet, taking one more swing of his Coke before placing it on his desk. “Fowler Colton, CEO of Colton Incorporated and Eldridge Colton’s oldest son.”

Fowler nodded, no doubt accustomed to being recognized. He took another step closer, his carefully blank expression revealing both nothing and too much. “I’d like to hire your services.”

Surprised, especially since someone with Fowler’s money could hire a top-notch firm from a bigger city like Dallas or Fort Worth, Cord waited to hear the rest. It’d probably be the kind of job no one else would want to do.

Fowler cleared his throat. “Before I tell you what—who—I need you to find, I’ll require your promise to keep this confidential.”

“That goes without saying.” Crossing his arms, Cord realized the other man didn’t remember him at all, despite the years he spent on the ranch when his father had been a ranch hand. Of course not, since even when he’d been younger, Fowler had always given the impression that he paid no attention to those he considered beneath him. And poor children of ranch hands, such as Cord, definitely fell into that category.

“I need you to find Piper.” For the first time since he’d shown up, raw emotion flashed across Fowler’s aristocratic features. Guilt, Cord realized, as his gut twisted. What the hell did Fowler have to feel guilty about?

And then Fowler’s words hit him. Find Piper?

“I heard she was arrested in connection with Eldridge’s murder.” Cord kept his tone casual, even though the instant he’d heard the news he’d known something was horribly wrong. The Piper he’d known as a kid wouldn’t even hurt a fly. No way he believed she could have actually killed another human being, especially not her adoptive father. He couldn’t think she would have changed so drastically, even though it had been years since he’d seen her.

“Yes. She had to spend the night in the county jail. Some of our siblings got together and posted bail and brought her home.”

So far so good. Even though he’d said “some of our siblings,” which meant Fowler himself hadn’t been involved. Though he wondered why, Cord couldn’t really say he was surprised. Fowler had never been big on family loyalty. Hell, as far as Cord could tell, the other man didn’t have a single loyal bone in his body.

“Marceline and I were pretty rough on her,” Fowler continued, his thin lips twisting. “We sort of barraged her.”

“About what?”

Now Fowler wouldn’t meet Cord’s gaze. “We told her we were convinced she’s guilty.”

Now this was getting interesting. “Are you?”

“Convinced she’s guilty?” Fowler lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, she could be. But then again, Eldridge didn’t have a lot of friends.”

Like father, like son.

“I feel horrible,” Fowler continued, though the lack of inflection in his tone made Cord question whether he meant it. “Marceline can be brutal when she fixates on something. She showed no mercy. Piper appeared pretty upset. She usually looks on the bright side of everything, but not this time. I think we’re the reason she ran.”

Ran? “What?” Cord couldn’t contain his shock. “Are you telling me Piper jumped bail?” Which meant her siblings would be out serious money if she didn’t show up in court.

Fowler nodded, grimacing. “Yes. No one’s seen hide nor hair of her since she got home from jail.”

“Since she got out of jail.” While Cord hated parroting back what the other man said, he simply could not take all this in. He never would have believed Piper Colton, rich, all-American girl next door, would in a million years do something like this.

Except she had. At least, according to Fowler.

“Okay.” Wary now, Cord dragged his hand through his hair. “Why are you here, Fowler? If you’re asking me to find Piper—”

“I am. You are a fugitive recovery agent, aren’t you? I’ve done my research. Not only are you highly respected in the criminal court community, but your success rate is 89 percent. And I’m willing to pay well.”

Of course he was. Since it just so happened that Cord really needed the money. “Our standard fees are—”