Colton's Lethal Reunion (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

And soaked while she cried her heart out.

* * *

Rafe was ready to head out. Nine o’clock was late enough that by the time he got to his house, went through the mail, checked to make certain that nothing had spoiled in the refrigerator the past few days and had a shower, it would be late enough for him to lie in bed and watch television with a hope of drifting off.

He hadn’t had all that much sleep the past three nights. But suspected he’d been more rested than he was going to be in the morning. After three nights with Kerry, his own bed, even for all its luxurious comforts, wasn’t calling to him.

Neither was filling out his weekly household chores list, but it had to be done. He’d had a reminder email from the staff at the mansion who took care of such things. They’d empty his refrigerator, too, when they cleaned, except that he’d specifically asked them not to do so. Quirky, he knew, but he wanted to be in charge of his own refrigerator. A throwback to the days of being a Kay and being allowed to just walk up and get food whenever he wanted. Growing up at the mansion, he hadn’t been allowed to hang out in the kitchen. Funny how some things stuck with you.

He was just finishing his very short list—having been gone so much—when the cleaning woman passed by his opened door for the third time.

Waiting on him to vacate so she could finish and go home?

“You can come in,” he called out to her. “I’m done here.” As he spoke he sent a text to Callum, letting him know he was ready to head out. Kerry had been insistent when she’d dropped him off that evening that someone escort him home. Still in her Jeep, he called his ex-SEAL younger brother to arrange the details. Callum, who was spending most of his time at the hospital with his mother, had accepted the request without question. Rafe knew Callum was getting antsy, hanging out with them in little Mustang Valley when his days generally involved traveling all over the world to protect princesses and dignitaries.

Maybe if

Callum had been home, protecting his own, his father wouldn’t have been shot.

The thought came from out of the blue. And was immediately rejected as grossly unfair. Rafe admired the hell out of Callum.

Hard to believe that less than a week ago Payne had been the one working late in the Colton Oil executive offices and had been shot. An entire lifetime had passed in the days in between.

The cleaning lady, he didn’t know her name, had dusted his end tables, the bookshelves, and was bringing in her vacuum.

“Were you working the night of the shooting?” he asked. A Colton Oil cleaner had found Payne.

She nodded, adjusted her vacuum cord. Stepped on the machine to release the handle for easy maneuvering.

Hands in his pockets, Rafe moved closer. He couldn’t go to the woman’s home, try to get a testimony from her—that would be tampering—but he could speak to an employee at work.

“Do you know the woman who found him?” he asked—even then, not able to say the words “my father.”

The woman’s nod was jerky. She glanced at him and away.

“But she had no idea who the shooter was...right?” He had no business asking. Just needed to know...

She shook her head. “Like Joanne told the detective this morning, she has no idea who it was...”

“She spoke to a detective this morning?” he asked, more alert as he heard the unexpected news.

“Yes. Detective Wilder. She came to Joanne’s house. She told her everything, Mr. Colton. We’ll both help in any way we can...”

Quickly assuring the woman that he had no doubt about her motives, he grabbed his keys and went down to wait for Callum.

Kerry had interviewed the cleaning lady that day and hadn’t even mentioned it to him. Not that she had to. But he wasn’t a suspect. The members of his family were the victims. She could have kept him apprised.

She was pulling away from him. He already knew that. This was further proof of it and hurt more than he would have expected. More than it should have.

“Hey, Rafe!” Callum had walked in and he hadn’t even noticed. “I’ll walk you to your truck and then follow you home,” he said, sounding like a boss man himself. “I’ll be staying close and we’ll stay on a call the entire time, since we don’t have radios. If I see anything, I’ll alert you, tell you what to do. Your job is to do it. No questions asked. Got it?”

He grinned. Remembering when Callum was about four and had come to him with jelly all over his face and shirt and begged Rafe to help him make it gone so he didn’t get in trouble.

“Got it,” he said. “And this is all overkill, you know.”

“Not from what I understand, it’s not,” Callum said. “I had a talk with Detective Wilder earlier this evening. She called up to the hospital before she left work to check on Dad. You’ve had at least two attempts on your life, Rafe, and that’s nothing to shrug off.”

Maybe not. He figured if someone really wanted him dead, he would be.