When a Secret Kills Page 6

  Jillian looked at him. “Fishing, huh?”

  “In a sense.” Colton threw a duffle bag in the back of his truck. “Just for tonight. Someone tried to kill you—and me.” He tossed in two sleeping bags and four pillows. “That tells me that my uncle isn’t behind this. He’d never do anything to hurt me.”

  “Come on, Colton, he had no way of knowing you would be there last night.”

  Colton had whisked her away from the scene as fast as he could. Their statements had been brief and to the point. One minute they’d been in the house, the next they’d been outside and the house had exploded. End of statement. They’d seen no one, hadn’t noticed anyone hanging around the area, and Jillian hadn’t recognized anyone in the crowd. And she hadn’t seen anyone who’d seemed suspicious.

  But there’d been the birds.

  Birds. Really?

  Or had she set the whole thing up? He didn’t want to think it. Didn’t want to believe her capable of something like that. Any more than he wanted to believe that his uncle had anything to do with killing the former governor. “But he knew you were going to be there. How?”

  That stopped her. She stood, one hand on the handle of the truck, her eyes on him. “I don’t have any idea. Staying with Serena wasn’t planned.”

  “Then someone followed you from the airport.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Then they’re good because I was watching.”

  He barked a hard laugh. “And exactly how much experience do you have watching for tails?”

  Jillian simply looked at him, drew in a deep breath, and said, “More than you might think, Colton.”

  It was his turn to pause. And he realized he knew nothing about this woman standing before him. Physically, she’d changed little except for gaining a few curves in all the right places. But on the inside? She was a whole different person.

  Colton hung his head for a moment, then lifted it to scan his home. He’d moved into this house a little over three years ago after tiring of apartment living. Peaceful, set back in the woods on twenty acres, he had room to roam. Room to raise the horses he and Jillian had dreamed about back in high school. For the first time since making the purchase, he allowed himself to admit that he’d bought the place with Jillian in mind.

  He opened the truck door. “Get in.”

  She slid in the passenger seat. “Where are we going again?”

  “To a little place owned by Hunter’s grandfather. I have an open invitation. I also have a key and go there often to just get away and relax.” He could see the exhaustion on her features and promised, “A friend of mine, Jonah Gunter, does some moonlighting as a bodyguard. He’s going to meet us out there and watch out for you. You need to rest without worrying about when whoever’s after you is going to strike next. And I need to make some calls without worrying about you.”

  “I never asked you to worry about me, Colton.” She grabbed the door, and slammed it shut.

  Colton winced. He rounded the truck and slid behind the wheel. “I know. You never ask for anything, do you?”

  Jillian hesitated and he wondered if she would answer him. Then she said, “No. I guess I don’t. Not willingly anyway.”

  Colton cranked the truck and did a three-point turn. He accelerated down the drive, then turned left to head for the highway. “Which makes me wonder why?” He shot her a quick glance. “Who are you now, Jillian Carter?”

  “Someone you wouldn’t recognize.” He almost didn’t catch the low whisper.

  “Why’s that? What changed you so much?”

  “I saw a murder ten years ago, Colton, and the murderer saw me. That changed me. I’ve been in hiding and now I’m on the run with the nephew of the man I saw shoot another man. I must be crazy.”

  Colton tensed, insulted and angry that whatever she thought she saw that night, she really believed his uncle was guilty of murder. She had been a scared teenager who’d bolted after seeing two men argue. And the governor had been alive enough to drive toward home instead of to a hospital. How could she believe his uncle could be involved in something like this?

  Instead of venting his anger, he swallowed it, kept his eyes alternating between the road and the mirrors, and said, “Then let’s work together to figure out what happened ten years ago.”

  “I thought we already agreed to something along those lines.”

  “We did. Only I want to talk to my uncle and see what he has to say about your accusations.”

  “Talk to him?” Jillian jerked forward against the seatbelt and half turned her body toward him. “No way! No, no, no. You can’t do that. I don’t have any proof, and if he thinks you’re involved in some way . . .”

  Colton glanced at her, then back to the road, then the mirror behind them. “But don’t you see, Jillian? It’s the only way. I’m going to drop you off at the cabin and then go see Uncle Frank.”

  “But you—”

  “I want to know how Governor Martin died,” he interrupted.

  Jillian felt her frown deepen as she let him change the subject. “I told you. He was shot.”

  Colton shook his head. “I would remember that. I remember the man dying, but not much else. There was nothing sensational about his death—other than the fact that he died. I think it was a car wreck. He was driving alone at night on that curvy road our parents used to forbid us to drive on.”

  “Culver Park Road,” Jillian said.

  “Right. The paper said that’s how he died.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t stick around to read about it in the paper.” In fact, she’d done her best to forget all about that horrible night. Although, now that he said that, a little niggling of doubt tickled her mind. “I know it wasn’t a car wreck, though. Can I see your phone?”

  “Where’s yours?”

  “It just got blown up, remember?”

  “Oh. Right.” He handed her the device. “We need to get you another one ASAP. I’ll get Jonah to bring you one—let me call him.” She passed him the phone and he made the call.

  When he handed the phone back to her, she accessed the internet and did a Google search. He glanced at her and saw the tip of her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth just like it always did when she concentrated on something. A pang of longing hit him. Longing for the past, longing for that graduation night to be different. If only—

  Colton shut those thoughts and feelings down. No sense in wanting something he couldn’t have. The only thing he could do now was work on the future.

  “Okay, here it is.”

  Her soft voice pulled at him. “What’d you find?”

  She read, “‘Governor Harrison Martin apparently lost control of his car around three o’clock yesterday morning on Culver Park Road. He hit the guardrail and went over. The car caught on fire and the governor had extensive burns all over his body. The medical examiner reports that Martin died from a combination of the burns, smoke inhalation, and severe head injuries. He was declared dead at the scene.’” She finished reading and went still. Then she handed his phone back to him.

  And just sat there. Quiet. Chewing on her bottom lip.

  It made him nervous. “What is it?”

  “It’s a lie.”

  “How can it be a lie, Jillian? There would have been cops all over the place, an investigation, an autopsy . . .” He shot her a sidelong glance and turned beneath the arch of intertwined branches of two towering oak trees that signaled the entrance to the cabin on Lake Murray. “You’re saying the medical examiner lied.”

  She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know how they did it, but they covered it up.”

  “A conspiracy theory?”

  “No. A cover-up.”

  “Same thing. Basically.”

  She snorted and glanced out the window. He could almost smell the smoke coming from her ears as her brain worked. The gravel drive ended and he heard her gasp. “This is Hunter’s grandfather’s ‘cottage’ on the lake?”

  “Yep.”

/>   “It’s beautiful.”

  Colton studied the glass front. “Yeah, Hunter’s grandfather bought it ages ago. Now Mr. Graham lets us cops use it for free pretty much whenever we want to. It’s a great place to unwind.” He shot her a glance. “Or hide out.”

  The yellow A-frame structure with the double oak doors looked simple and elegant from the front. From memory, he knew the back walls were heavy glass overlooking the lake.

  Instead of parking in the front, he pulled around to the back and shut the engine off. “The nearest neighbor is about a quarter of a mile in any direction. Hunter’s granddaddy wanted his privacy and plenty of room for his large family. There’s an alarm that beeps anytime someone turns into the drive. You’ll have plenty of advance warning should anyone be headed this way.” He opened the door for her, then walked around to let the tailgate down. He gave a short whistle and the dogs bolted from the back of the truck.

  “And if they don’t use the drive?”

  He closed the tailgate and said, “That’s what the dogs are for.” He gave her the once-over. “Seeing as how you’re pretty much without a wardrobe, I think you’ll find some clothes that will fit you in the master bedroom. Hunter said his cousin, Claire, has two wardrobes. She keeps one at home and leaves one here. Y’all are about the same size.”

  He led her into the house and cut the alarm off. Then showed her how to arm it. She practiced it a couple of times until he was satisfied. “Keep it on at all times, all right?”

  “I will.”

  Three short beeps sounded and Colton smiled at her startled jerk. “That’s Jonah.”

  Colton gave the man about sixty seconds to reach the end of the drive and park. He went to the door and opened it, welcoming his friend. “Thanks for coming.”

  “No problem.” The man’s dark almond eyes and olive skin showed off his Asian heritage. Well-toned muscles rippled beneath his shirt, and Colton knew Jonah was well equipped to handle anything that came his way. He looked at Jillian. “Glad to meet you.”

  “You too.” She shook his hand. “Thanks for doing this. Hopefully this will be an easy and uneventful job for you.”

  “Just the way I like them.” He handed her a phone. “It’s programmed and ready to go.” He looked at Colton. “I texted you the number so you have it.”

  Colton checked his phone. “Got it. Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’ll be checking the perimeter.” Then he was gone, leaving her alone with Colton. She shoved the phone into the back pocket of her shorts and wandered to the kitchen, then into the den, touching the furniture, familiarizing herself with the place.

  He let her do that for a couple of minutes, then said, “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

  She followed him, her quiet demeanor worrying him. He threw open the door to one of the bedrooms and felt his phone vibrate. He checked the number and frowned.

  “What is it?”

  “My aunt is texting me, wants to know if I’ve heard from my cousin Carmen.”

  Wariness crossed her face. “I remember her. She’s Frank’s daughter. Are y’all that close?”

  “Yes. And no. Carmen and I have an understanding.” He tapped the keyboard of the phone and answered that he hadn’t heard from Carmen. To Jillian he said, “She’s had a lot of problems. As a teen, she was very rebellious, very anti-authority. She even ran away from home when she was fourteen. My aunt and uncle sent her to a boarding school for kids with emotional problems.”

  “Did it help?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe some. She’s in college and hasn’t flunked out yet, so that’s an improvement.”

  Jillian sighed and walked over to the closet. When she opened it, she just stood there.

  He frowned. “Jillian?”

  She turned to face him and his heart nearly broke in two at how lost she appeared. Lost and very, very scared. Old instincts, mixed with new, rose up. Colton hesitated for only a moment, then walked over to pull her into his arms, ignoring her soft gasp of surprise.

  9

  Jillian couldn’t help it. She was scared. Scared and feeling very vulnerable right now. Only the fact that she still had her gun nestled comfortably in the small of her back kept her from giving in to the panic flooding her. Well, the gun and Colton’s strong arms around her once again.

  She snuggled into the crook of his neck and felt his pulse jump against her cheek. Some of the fear subsided. Comfort like she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in so long tumbled through her.

  Colton’s arms . . .

  She jerked away, stunned that she’d allowed herself to start falling for him again so easily. Again? Who was she kidding? She’d never gotten over him. His hand brushed her lower back. This time it was his turn to be surprised. “What’s that?”

  Her hand reached around to grasp the butt of the gun. With a smooth move, she pulled it from her waistband and held it pointing toward the floor. “Insurance.”

  “A gun?”

  His shout ricocheted off the bedroom walls and she winced. “Yes, a gun.”

  “Where did you get that? Do you have a license for it? Those things are dangerous!” His protective blustering had her instantly on guard.

  She widened her eyes and held the gun up. “Dangerous? For real?”

  He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her. “Give it to me before you hurt someone.”

  Jillian narrowed her eyes and dropped the sarcasm. “Colton, I’m perfectly capable of handling this gun. I’ve done so for the last six years. And yes, I have a permit for a concealed carry. So stop worrying.”

  If she’d reached up and slapped him, she didn’t think he’d be more stunned.

  The outrage and surprise faded from his face. But his eyes grew sad. “Jillian . . . I don’t know what to say. A gun? And you know how to use it.” A statement this time, not a question.

  “This has been my life since I left ten years ago, Colton,” she whispered. But she couldn’t stop the lone tear that slid down her cheek as she stuck the gun back into the comfortable spot between her lower back and the waistband of her jeans.

  His left hand reached up to thumb the wetness away. “Aw, Jillian, what am I going to do with you?”

  She drew in a shuddering breath as his hands grasped her upper arms and pulled her back against him.

  Against his chest, she muttered, “You’re going to help me put a killer behind bars.”

  He set her back from him and wiped her eyes one more time. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to find Uncle Frank and talk to him about all this and then I’m going to come back here and explain the mess-up.”

  Jillian jerked from the light grasp he had on her upper arms. “No. I’m serious about this, Colton. I don’t want you talking to him yet. You do, and you could put yourself in danger too.” She thought about that. “No, not ‘too.’ Again.”

  Anger flashed. “I’m going to prove you wrong.” He headed for the bedroom door and she followed on his heels right down the steps, through the den area, into the kitchen, and out the front door of the house.

  “Colton, no! Don’t do this.” She stormed after him, and when he opened the driver’s door of his truck, she rounded him to slam it shut. “If you ever cared anything about me, don’t do this.”

  He looked back at her and whatever he saw in her face must have gotten through to him. He sighed and leaned against the truck. “Think about it. You would do the exact same thing if our positions were reversed. Can’t you see this from my point of view too?”

  She stopped, snapped her mouth shut, and stared at him—and thought about it. Finally, her shoulders drooped and she sighed. “Yeah. I can. In a way. But it doesn’t mean you should still do this. Give me the benefit of the doubt for a minute. What if I’m right and you’re wrong?”

  Colton’s lips twisted into a frown as he studied her. He looked away and then back as he rubbed a hand over his hair. “Look, I need to talk to him. I’ll just be subtle about how I phrase the questions. Will that work for you?”<
br />
  “Subtle how?”

  He thought for a moment as the dogs came to sit at his feet. Absently, he scratched their ears. “I’ll figure something out when I get there. I texted him and he said for me to come out to his house. He’s waiting on me.”

  “Colton . . .” She didn’t bother to continue. He was determined.

  She just prayed his determination didn’t result in her death—or his.

  The killer pressed the phone to his ear and watched Colton Brady pull out from the gravel drive. He was alone. A smile slid across his face as he thought about how vulnerable his prey would be now.

  He’d seen the other man drive in, but he’d be easy enough to dispose of since the element of surprise was on his side. An ambush should be a piece of cake.

  As Colton’s taillights disappeared, the killer pulled a pair of black gloves from the glove compartment. He slid the suppressor on the end of the Mk22 pistol. Even though the area was isolated, no sense in taking a chance on anyone being in the wrong place at the wrong time hearing two gunshots.

  He eyed the dogs bounding around the front yard.

  Make that four.

  The phone rang one more time, then Frank answered with an abrupt, “What?”

  “She’s got a bodyguard, but I’m getting ready to take care of the problem.”

  Silence echoed back at him. Then, “Where’s Colton?”

  “He just left.”

  “Where’s Jillian?”

  “He stashed her at Hunter’s grandfather’s lake house.”

  “Okay, so what are you going to do?”

  “I’ve got a plan. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

  He hung up and picked up the black ski mask from the seat beside him and grimaced. Almost a hundred degrees outside and he was going to have to dress like it was thirty. Sweat popped out on his brow just thinking about it. Well, it didn’t matter. It had to be done.

  He’d just make sure Jillian suffered a little more for making him sweat.

  10

  Colton figured Jillian was right about one thing. He was definitely going to do his best to catch the person after her and put that person behind bars.