Colton's Christmas Baby (10 page)

“You started it by coming in here and demanding, in my own office, in my own house. How dare you demand
anything from me. You ought to be grateful I give you a roof over your head, boy.”

Face a glowering mask of rage, Darius stood and pointed toward the door. “Go away before I say something I might regret.”

“What, you haven't already?” Damien didn't bother to hide his disappointment. “All this shadow-dancing makes me think you really do have something to hide.”

“You don't even know the half of it,” Darius sneered. “I could snap my fingers and have you killed, just like that.”

This stopped Damien cold. “What are you saying?”

“I'm just saying, don't go poking your nose in places it doesn't belong, understand me?”

“You're my father.” Damien felt as if a heavy weight pressed against his chest. “How can you talk like that to me?”

In reply, Darius gave a nasty chuckle. “I can't allow personal relationships to get in the way of business. This is business. I told you to leave before you heard something you didn't want to hear. The truth isn't always pretty, now, is it?”

“I wonder if you even know what the truth really is.” Finally, realizing that if he wanted answers, he'd have to get them on his own, Damien pushed to his feet. “I just hope that when I find out what really happened, I don't discover you have been lying to me.”

“Or what?” Darius crossed his arms, his face hard. “You gonna treat me like some of your prison buddies no doubt treated you?”

Instead of dignifying this awful statement with a response, Damien slammed out of the room, Darius's mocking laughter following him, making him want to hit something.

In the kitchen, he grabbed the wall phone and dialed the sheriff's office. Wes answered on the second ring.

“I'm calling a family meeting,” Damien announced.

Wes cursed. “Not now. I don't have time for this.”

“Make time. Things are worse here than you realize.”

“You don't understand. I'm working a murder investigation.”

Damien didn't pull any punches. “You'll be working another one if we don't deal with Darius now.”

Shocked silence. Then, as Damien had known he would, Wes agreed to be there.

Finn was easier. “Sure,” he agreed. “As long as it's at night or on a weekend, I'll drive out to the ranch.”

“Tonight, seven o'clock.”

“That soon? Things must really be bad. Okay, count me in. I'll be there.”

Two down, five to go. Next, Damien phoned Duke.

“Tonight, Susan wants me to help her pick out food for the wedding.” Duke sounded as though he'd rather wallow in pig excrement. “If I tell her I have an emergency family meeting, I think I can get out of it.”

“I'll need you to back me up on what's been going on around here.”

“Can do.” Sounding relieved, Duke hung up to go find his fiancée and tell her the news.

Last, Damien went looking for Maisie. He'd been surprised when Eve had told him she'd cut his sister's hair. Last he'd heard, Maisie had been paying over a hundred bucks for a haircut at some fancy salon up in Billings.

When she opened the door after his knock, and he saw her, he was shocked speechless.

“You like it?” She preened, spinning around so he could get the full effect. “Eve did a wonderful job.”

“Wow! When she said she'd cut your hair, I had no idea,”
he began. The look of glee in his sister's eyes made him realize his mistake.

“You saw her?”

He crossed his arms. “Yes. Yesterday. She cut my hair, too. Why?”

“She didn't say anything about seeing you. I even asked her about her intentions.”

“You did what?”

“Asked her about your intentions. When did you get your hair cut?”

“After you.” Swearing under his breath, he shook his head. “I already told you, none of your business.” He shook off his irritation. This was Maisie, after all. She'd always danced to the beat of her own drum. “We're having a family meeting at seven tonight. Perry, Joan and Brand aren't around, and you and Jeremy need to be in attendance, all right?”

She nodded, then looked dubious. “Is Darius going to be there?”

“No. Darius is the reason we're having a meeting. We're going to discuss him.”

“Behind his back?” Maisie scrunched up her nose. “He won't like that.”

“He's not going to find out. Just be there, Maisie. Okay?”

Finally, she agreed. “Make sure you have something to eat. I'm usually hungry around seven,” she said. Then, claiming she needed a nap, she closed the door in his face.

That evening, waiting in the kitchen as everyone straggled in, Damien tried to plan what he wanted to say. The others had to understand that Darius was ill and apparently had been for quite some time.

Maisie arrived last, after the others were seated. Since
he'd called the meeting, Damien remained standing. Pacing helped him articulate better.

Damien cleared his throat. When everyone had fallen silent, he began. He told them about the disappearance of his inheritance, then recounted the scene with Darius in his office that morning.

“He threatened to kill you?” Duke's tone reflected his shock.

Even Maisie appeared stunned. Only Jeremy gave no reaction, but continued stuffing his face with gingerbread cookies.

“Yes. He intimated that he could have someone do the deed. Like he'd done it before.”

“Now wait a minute,” Wes pushed to his feet. “This is crazy. Darius may be a lot of things, but he's still our father. I know he's been growing increasingly unstable, but murder—whether for hire or otherwise—is a serious crime. Darius knows that. He won't risk the ranch and our futures, not to mention his own, for something like that.”

“I don't think Darius gives a rat's ass about any of us,” Damien said. “And as for risking the ranch, I believe he already has.”

Finn shook his head. “You have no proof. You're saying that based on what happened with your inheritance.”

“That, and the fact that he won't let me examine the books. Have any of you seen the books for this ranch?”

“No. Sharon does them for him. She used to be an accountant. Have you asked her?”

“No.” Damien dragged his hand through his hair. “But I will, now that I know.” He took a deep breath, meeting each of their eyes, one by one.

“Back to Darius. We need to get him in for medical tests. I think there might be something wrong. Either that or he's a sociopath.” He attempted a chuckle, failing miserably.
“Finn, since you're the doctor in the family, you should handle that.”

Finn gave an inelegant and decided un-doctorlike snort. “Just how do you propose I do that? Even if there is something wrong with him, which is a distinct possibility, he's a sixty-year-old adult man. I can't force him to submit to medical tests.”

“You know Darius,” Wes added. “He'll tell you to go to hell. I don't see how we can convince him to get help.”

Duke spoke up. “Maybe Maisie can. She seems to have more sway with him than anyone else.”

Before he'd even finished talking, Maisie shook her head. “He just views women differently, that's all. We're—me, Joan and Sharon, that is—his possessions. Objects in a way, not real people. If you think for a minute that he would allow me to try to tell him what to do…” She shuddered. “Not going to happen. I don't want to be the next one he comes at with a fireplace poker. No, thank you.”

Jeremy lifted his head and swallowed the last bite of his cookie. “I think we should just leave Darius alone. He doesn't like any of us anyways. Maybe we could all move to a new ranch with Uncle Damien.”

As one, they all turned to look at Damien.

“Move to a new ranch?” Finn frowned. “What's this all about, Damien? Why are you filling the kid's head with such nonsense?”

Even Maisie looked askance at him. “Honestly, you can't go around telling my son we're moving without even talking to me. You know I love Honey Creek. I'm not planning on going anywhere.”

Before Damien could answer, Jeremy slammed the heel of his hand on the table. “That's typical, Mom. You do everything you can to ruin my life.” He ran out of the room.

No one spoke as they watched him go. “Teenagers,” Maisie said, to no one in particular. “What can you do?”

Finn steered the conversation back to Darius. “I'll talk to him, tell him it's time for him to have a physical. I'll run every test I can on him to make sure there's nothing wrong.”

“Oh, there's definitely something wrong,” Damien and Duke said at the same time. Sheepishly grinning at each other, they shrugged. As twins they finished each other's sentences all the time. Or had, until Damien had gone away to prison.

“What I'm trying to say,” Finn continued, “is whatever is wrong with Darius may be mental rather than physical. If so, then nothing will show up on my test results.”

“Even Alzheimer's?” Maisie asked.

“There is no test that can definitively diagnose Alzheimer's disease.” Finn paused for a moment, thinking. “Though if I order a CT scan of his brain, it might be able to detect Alzheimer's plaques and tangles. It's all a crap shoot when it comes to that kind of stuff.”

Still, it was the best they could do and they all knew it. “There's more,” Wes added slowly, sounding reluctant. “The Feds aren't in town just for the Mark Walsh murder. They're investigating Darius. It sounds pretty serious.”

“I
nvestigating Darius? Why?” Duke asked. He, Finn and Maisie reacted with varying degrees of surprise and/or shock. Damien said nothing. How could he? The Feds had approached him days after he'd been released from prison. At the time, he'd thought they were crazy, so he'd readily agreed to help them. Now, he regretted that. The longer he was home and the more he tried to talk to Darius, the more he suspected the old man truly had something to hide.

“For what?” Finn sounded incredulous. “He's just a rich rancher. What could he possibly have done?”

“Besides stealing my inheritance?” Damien interjected dryly.

“You don't sound surprised,” Wes said.

“I'm not, actually. The last I heard, they were looking at him for several things. Racketeering and money laundering being just two of them.”

Wes narrowed his eyes. “You knew about this? How long have you known?”

With them all staring at him, Damien kept his face expressionless. “The Feds approached me right after I got out of prison. They wanted me to be their inside guy.”

Wes swore. “They said they had someone on the inside. I didn't believe them.” He cursed. “Especially you, of all people. The last person I would have suspected. Tell me, have you been reporting back to them?”

Crossing his arms, Damien studied each of his siblings. Their expression bore various degrees of surprise, shock or, in Maisie's case, disinterest. Still, the fact that Wes had to ask hurt. “I can't believe you asked that.”

“Answer the question,” Wes barked.

Pushing away a flash of anger, Damien shook his head.

“No, I haven't told the Feds a damn thing,” he sighed.

“Why not?” Maisie interjected. “You know he's hiding something.”

“Because I have nothing on him.” Damien told the truth.

“Would you have told the Feds if you did?” Duke sounded merely curious, rather than condemning.

“I don't know. Personally, I think they should be kept out of this. Whatever he's done, I refuse to believe it's illegal. Darius might be acting crazy, but he's our father. We're all family here and all we have is each other. No matter what.”

“I agree,” Duke said. “Whatever he might be guilty of, it can't be that bad. This is family business and, bottom line, family is family.”

Family is family.
The Colton family's creed. Even if Darius himself appeared to have forgotten it, there was no reason any of them should betray him to the Feds.

Unless he actually hurt someone. That aspect needed to be addressed.

“That goes without saying,” Wes seconded. “Unless of course, Darius does something completely crazy, like he's been threatening to do.”

“Like kill me?” Damien asked. “Something has to be wrong with him. Something medical. I hope we get a handle on it before it gets to that point.”

“We will.” Duke sounded certain. “You've had a rough enough time of it already. It's a shame you're having to deal with this, too.”

Damien silently agreed with that statement.

“I'll see if I can get him to agree to letting me do a complete physical. But for now, I've got to go.” Finn glanced at his watch. “Rachel is waiting for me.” The eagerness in his voice struck a chord of envy in Damien, making him wonder how it would feel to have a woman you loved waiting for you.

“Yeah, me, too.” Wes walked to the door with his brother, turning when he reached the doorway. “We're all good, right? Medical tests from Finn and stonewall the Feds.”

“Exactly,” Damien answered. Still, Maisie said nothing, apparently engrossed in her nail polish.

The others all left, too, talking quietly among themselves.

Maisie said goodbye absently, picking at the polish on her index fingernail.

“Maise?” Damien moved closer. “What's wrong? You've been uncharacteristically quiet.”

When she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her expression was troubled. “I think something really is wrong with Darius. You saw how he threatened to kill Sharon the other night.”

“Like he did me.”

“Yes.” Maisie dragged her hand through her perfect hair, rumpling it. When she raised her gaze to meet his,
fear shone in her eyes. “Damien, I think he really meant it. Sharon did, too. She looked absolutely terrified.”

“I'll talk to her.”

“No, don't.” Maisie touched his arm. “I've already tried and she shut me out. I think she wants this to all just go away.”

He sighed. “Don't we all.”

“I know I do.”

“Take it easy. Try to enjoy yourself. It's nearly Christmas. Do you have a date tonight?”

“Yes.” For an instant her smile lit up her eyes, but then her face fell. “Only I'm not sure I want to see him anymore.”

On alert, Damien watched her closely. “Has Gary Jackson done something to hurt you?”

“No, it's not that. It's just that he seems to have it in for you. He's really intense about it, Damien. He says he's assisting the Feds on an investigation concerning you. I'm worried they'll try to pin some crime Darius might have committed on you.”

“Wouldn't that be par for the course?” He gave her a grim smile. “That's all I need. I've already been wrongly convicted of one crime.”

Then, seeing how anxiety tightened her face, he tried to lighten the mood. “Come on, you know and I know that's not gonna happen. After all, what's the likelihood of lightning striking twice?”

“I don't know, but this still has me worried.”

“Me, too.” He thought for a moment. “I am kind of curious. Do you have any idea what Gary Jackson has against me, or why?”

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I don't know.”

Rising, she carefully placed her water glass in the
sink. Still not looking at him, she made a beeline for the hallway.

“Where are you going?” he asked, once again confused by her mercurial mood swings.

“To bed.”

“I thought you had a date.”

“I'm going to cancel it.” Head held high, she sailed from the room, shooting him a look that dared him to follow.

He didn't. Though every bit of her demeanor suggested she was hiding something, Damien let her go. He was tired of drama, tired of secrets and hidden meanings. He longed to saddle up his gelding and take off for the open range, where only cattle and eagles would be his companions.

If it had been summertime, that's exactly what he would have done. Since it was winter and already dark, not to mention twelve degrees outside with the temperature falling fast, he did what he really wanted to do.

He got in his truck and headed over to Eve's. She was fast becoming an obsession with him. He dreamed about her at night, thought about her a hundred random times during the day. He ached to hold her, touch her, feel her lush body pressed up against him.

Though he desired her, Eve was special. He wanted more. More than just for sex, he wanted to be with her—after all, she was the closest thing he had to a friend.

 

The knock on her front door roused Eve from a deep sleep. She'd fallen asleep on the sofa again, with a Christmas special playing on the TV and her Christmas-tree lights twinkling in the background. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes and pushed to her feet, feeling ungainly and ungraceful, even though she'd only gained six pounds. Tightening the belt on her robe, she padded to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Damien. Snow dusting his cowboy hat, he looked good enough to eat. Beautiful and sexy, a wounded, lost man. Exactly the kind that always got her in trouble.

For no reason at all, her eyes filled with tears. Sniffing, she opened the door and let him in.

“What's wrong?” Sounding concerned, he pulled her close. He smelled of snow and leather, an outdoorsy, manly scent that embodied his essence.

“Nothing.” She took a deep, shaky breath and wiped at her eyes. “Pregnancy hormones, I guess.” Grabbing the old quilt she used to keep warm on the couch, she swung it over her shoulders and sat down.

“Were you asleep?” His deep voice rumbled with humor.

She glanced at the mantel clock before answering. “Maybe.”

His grin warmed her more than any quilt. “Do you want me to leave?”

She punched him lightly in the arm. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Taking off his cowboy hat, he hung it on her coatrack. As he removed his parka, he shot her a mischievous look. “Got any room under that blanket?”

Instead of answering with words, she lifted a corner of the quilt. Grinning, he came over and sat next to her, jeans-clad thigh next to her pajamas.

“You feel cold,” she told him, snuggling against him. Then, as he lifted his hand to her cheek, she gasped. “Dang. Didn't you wear gloves?”

“No. I was in too big a rush to get here.”

She searched his face. “Why? Did something happen?”

“I missed you, Eve.” He kissed her. Taking his time,
letting the drowsy heat of her warm his cold lips. “I've really missed you today.”

He sounded truly perplexed, which made her smile. Pleasure filled her for a moment, until she got a grip on herself and shook her head. No warm and fuzzy feelings here. Men said stuff like that all the time as a prelude to wanting sex. They didn't mean it. He didn't mean it either. She had to remember to take everything he said with a grain of salt. Otherwise, she'd end up hurt, with Damien running as far away as he could, leaving her alone with a broken heart.

Unfortunately, even thinking about doing without him made her feel weepy. “Damn hormones,” she sniffed, while tears slowly tracked down her cheeks.

“Are you sure you're all right?” Big fingers gentle, he wiped the tears away.

“It's being pregnant,” she explained, taking his hand and letting him feel the soft swell of her belly. “I'm a little past four months along now and the hormonal changes are making me act…different.”

He nodded, his dark gaze finding hers. “Do you ever miss him?”

“Who?”

“The father of your baby. Massimo.”

He remembered the name? She shook her head. “I barely knew him. I went to Italy because I was upset that I'm going to be forty soon. He was hot, we hit it off and the next thing I knew, we were in bed. He said all the right things, I wanted badly to believe him, and…” Lightly, she touched her belly. “Here I am. Hopefully wiser.”

“When are you going to tell your family?”

“After New Year's. Since my sister and your brother are getting married on January second, I wanted to wait
until that was over. Susan doesn't deserve me stealing her thunder.”

“Ah, yes, the wedding.” He pulled her closer. “I'm assuming you're a bridesmaid. I'm a groomsman. Wanna go together?”

For a second she couldn't breathe. “You mean…be each other's dates? In public?”

Now he watched her closely, his expression guarded. “Yes. Unless, of course, you're ashamed to be seen in public with me.”

“Of course not. But I want you to consider this, Damien. Once I tell everyone that I'm pregnant, I'm not going to name the father.”

“So?”

“Well, now you and I have an agreement not to get serious. But what if we ever started dating heavily, people might assume this is your baby.” Grasping at straws, not even sure what was driving her.

A muscle worked in his jaw. Uncoiling himself from the couch, he stood. “I see. And for your child's sake, you don't think that's a good idea.”

“It's just that…” Spreading her hands, she tried to find the right words to explain.

“Don't bother. You don't want people to assume your baby was sired by an ex-con. I get it. Don't bother getting up. I can find my own way out.”

And he was gone.

Stunned, feeling as though she'd been hit by a ton of bricks, Eve huddled under her blanket, staring at the spot where he'd just been. What had all that been about? She'd only been trying to be practical, in keeping with their no-strings agreement. Damien was just out of sorts. Apparently she wasn't the only moody one in Honey Creek tonight.

 

Back home, insides churning, Damien parked next to an unfamiliar black sedan. Someone had company. Probably Maisie. After all, hadn't she mentioned she'd had a date with Gary Jackson tonight? Since she'd said she was going to cancel it, Gary had probably come to her.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten. He went to the kitchen and pulled out sandwich fixings. In the middle of making a sandwich, he heard the tap-tap-tap of Maisie's high heels headed his way.

“Hey, Maise.” He greeted her as she strode across the ceramic tile. “Whose car is that in the driveway? Gary's?”

“No. Listen, there are a couple of men here to see you.” Maisie looked worried. Moving closer, she said in a loud, stage whisper, “They say they're with the FBI.”

Damien froze. The black car. “They're really pushing it, coming out here. Tell them to go away.”

She shook her head, shooting him a weird look over her shoulder as she headed toward her room. “Tell them yourself. I put them in the study off the great room. That one guy scared me. He's built like an NFL linebacker.”

Special Agent Donatello. It had to be. Maisie could charm most people and considered herself fearless. If someone frightened her… Donatello was a stereotypical law-enforcement official in love with his power. From his flat-top haircut and round spectacles, down to the long black trench coat he affected, he tried to appear a badass. In the entire time he'd been out of prison, Damien had never seen the man smile or crack a joke, and his humorless, no-nonsense attitude probably didn't win him any friends.

Damien had met Donatello when he'd first gone to talk to the Feds, willing to assist in the Mark Walsh investigation. Hell, he'd felt compelled to offer to assist in
the investigation, and had been furious when they'd turned him away.