Colton's Twin Secrets
A K-9 cop and Colton nanny come under fire
A Coltons of Red Ridge romance
Officer Dante Mancuso pursues justice with only the company of his K-9 partner. But when tragedy strikes, the bewildered bachelor winds up with custody of his infant nieces. Desperate for help, Dante hires heiress Gemma Colton to help him care for the little girls. As they grow closer caring for the babies, shadows from their respective pasts threaten their growing bond.
“You got them quiet pretty quickly. They’ve got a couple of good sets of lungs.”
“Part of the design, I’m sure,” Gemma said.
She put Lucia back in the crib beside her sister. Busied herself with situating them because she wasn’t sure she could handle another dose of all that skin. It made her hands itch and her body flush in a way she didn’t quite understand. Not that she could deny Dante was a very attractive man—impossible when he was standing there practically in the nude—but her own reaction was confusing her. She loved Dev, after all. And no matter how many times she told herself that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate another handsome—and sexy—man, it was still unsettling.
When she thought she could do so composedly, she straightened and turned around. “It’s my job, Officer Mancuso. Next time you can just go back to sleep,” she suggested. Please.
“My job, too,” he said.
“But you hired me.”
“And I’m not paying you.”
“I told you I was doing it for the experience.”
Of dealing with his very distracting presence?
* * *
The Coltons of Red Ridge:
A killer’s on the loose and love is on the line
* * *
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Dear Reader,
This is my fourth visit with the fascinating, far-flung Colton family. It’s amazing how, even in what would usually be the quieter places, they manage to create drama, suspense and intrigue! And like most families, they have their share of good ones and not-so-good ones, ones you want to cheer for and ones you’d like to slap silly.
And sometimes, you have Coltons you might start out wanting to slap silly but end up cheering for. I think Gemma Colton is one of those. She makes the journey from spoiled heiress to heroine, thanks to a guy from another one of those families—only Dante’s the good one amid the bad apples.
I hope you enjoy this particular journey.
Happy reading!
Justine
COLTON’S TWIN SECRETS
Justine Davis
Justine Davis lives on Puget Sound in Washington State, watching big ships and the occasional submarine go by and sharing the neighborhood with assorted wildlife, including a pair of bald eagles, deer, a bear or two and a tailless raccoon. In the few hours when she’s not planning, plotting or writing her next book, her favorite things are photography, knitting her way through a huge yarn stash and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.
Connect with Justine at her website, justinedavis.com, at Twitter.com/justine_d_davis, or on Facebook at Facebook.com/justinedaredavis.
Books by Justine Davis
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
The Coltons of Red Ridge
Colton’s Twin Secrets
Cutter’s Code
Operation Midnight
Operation Reunion
Operation Blind Date
Operation Unleashed
Operation Power Play
Operation Homecoming
Operation Soldier Next Door
Operation Alpha
Operation Notorious
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com,
or justinedavis.com, for more titles.
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This one’s for readers in one of my favorite states, South Dakota. Don’t go looking for Red Ridge, for it’s entirely from imagination. But you’ll know that. Enjoy the ride anyway. And here’s to SD, indeed Great Faces, Great Places!
Contents
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Excerpt from Conard County Watch by Rachel Lee
Chapter 1
Hope.
What a fool’s game.
K9 officer Dante Mancuso stood in the doorway of the small apartment, wondering why on earth he felt the slightest twinge of hope that this time it might be different, this time they might actually find something. Anything. Trying to link the Teflon Twins, Evan and Noel Larson, to their multitude of crimes had so far been like trying to break Flash of sniffing.
As if the big dog had heard the thought, he looked up, leaned his head against Dante’s leg and gave him that mournful look out of the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. His heart and gut reacted for a moment before his brain kicked in to remind him he was being played.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Dante muttered to the bloodhound.
With a long, pained sigh that matched the expression on his wrinkled face, the dog plopped down on the floor.
“You’ll get your turn when they’re done,” Dante told him. The black-and-tan dog gave him what in a person would be a distinct side-eye look. “What? You don’t like Mondays or you can’t sort out a few extra smells?”
With a distinct huff, the dog settled his head onto his front paws.
A man in uniform stepped through the door, pulling off his shoe covers and latex gloves. Al Collins was fairly new, a lateral transfer from down in Custer, still in training here, and Dante didn’t quite have his measure yet.
“I swear, Mancuso, you talk to that dog more than I talk to my human partner.”
“Human?” Dante shot a grinning glance at Collins’s training officer, Duke Carnahan, a large, muscled man with a forehead and brow line that looked a bit simian, and often served to fool people into thinking him stupid, when in fact he was one of the sharpest cops around. He was also one of Dante’s closest friends in the department.
“Keep it up, pretty boy, and I’ll have to rip your arm off,” Duke shot back.
Dante knew the man was joking, but Duke also looked quite capable of carrying out the threat. “Flash might not like that.”
The cop’s gaze shifted to the dog, who now looked half-asleep. “You trying to tell me that lazybones would actually bite me?”
“That lazybones could run you into the ground over any kind of terrain. But when he caught you, he’d just lick you to death. Maybe d
rown you in slobber.”
Duke grimaced. “Ugh. Drown in dog drool? No, thanks. You can keep the arm.”
They both laughed.
“Don’t see you down here much, Mancuso,” Collins said. “Don’t like us?”
“Some of the neighbors and I don’t get along,” Dante answered, his voice carefully neutral.
Collins frowned, but Duke got it quickly. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about your brother.”
I wish I could.
* * *
Gemma Colton paced the floor of her condo in the building owned by her father, for once taking little pleasure in the sweeping view or the expensive furnishings. She was focused on one thing and one thing only. But it was her entire future.
“Something go wrong at the fund-raiser?”
She turned to look at Devlin. “What?”
“You seem...edgy.”
And so, she realized, did he.
Devlin Harrington was the biggest puzzle she had ever encountered in her admittedly pampered life. To be honest, that was half the reason he intrigued her so—her social life wasn’t usually so complicated. She was the youngest daughter of Fenwick Colton, and men were usually falling all over themselves for the chance to take her out. But not Dev. She’d never had to chase a man before, but the combination of his good looks, elegant manners, sharp dressing and confident air were irresistible to her.
And so she’d set herself to the task, telling herself it was in part because he was the son of wealthy Hamlin Harrington—who himself was involved with her half sister Layla, which was a puzzle—and a successful lawyer in his own right with his father’s company. He was one of the few men where the question of him being after her money—well, her father’s money—had never come up, not even with her father, who was paranoid about the subject.
And eight months later, here they were, not an inch closer to where she wanted to be. Oh, they had a relationship—it just wasn’t the kind she wanted with him. Because she’d quite fallen for the handsome lawyer, and if it was in large part because even after all this time he still seemed unreachable, she wasn’t at all sure what that meant.
If she wanted to see him, it was up to her to reach out. And half the time he had other plans he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—change. Telling herself he was a busy, successful man was wearing thin.
Quinn’s words kept ringing in her head. Her cousin had been kind, gentle even, but her advice boiled down to one thing: you can’t force love. But she wasn’t trying to force it, she told herself. She already loved Devlin. And he loved her, she was sure, he just needed to move her up on his priority list. And she wasn’t certain how to do that; she’d never not been at the top of that list with anyone she’d been with before.
“No,” she said finally. “The fund-raiser went fine. Great, in fact. We raised even more than last year.” Her chin came up. “Even without you.”
He ignored the jab, as he usually did. She could never decide if it was because he didn’t see it or it simply didn’t bother him. She usually leaned toward the former, since the latter implied he didn’t care enough to let it bother him, and she didn’t want to believe that.
“I’m sure the animal shelter will be pleased,” he said, and he sounded so preoccupied that she was almost certain he was only vaguely aware of what he was saying.
She stifled the childish urge to stamp her foot and say, “Pay attention!” But it was a close thing; Gemma was not used to being an afterthought for anyone.
Especially a man she was crazy about. A man she wanted to build that future with. A man who would fit seamlessly into her world. A man even her father couldn’t find fault with.
“Dev!”
He seemed to snap back to reality. “Look, I just couldn’t get there, all right?”
She sighed. “It’s not that. Not really. Where are we going, Dev?”
He frowned. “Going?”
“You and me. Don’t you think it’s time we progressed beyond dinner a couple of times a week and only going to official functions?”
The frown deepened. “This is fine.”
A pronouncement. Not an “I think,” just a judgment as if the only input required was his. She would have to break him of that, and soon.
“This isn’t my idea of fine. I want more, Dev.”
He stood up. “I know,” he said softly. He reached out to cup her cheek, and she thought at last she was getting somewhere. At least she had his full attention now. But instead he looked almost sad. “I’m sorry, Gemma.”
He meant it. She could tell. And her entire mood shifted. “It’s okay. It was just a fund-raiser. There’ll be another one. In fact, the big gala is right before Thanksgiving, and—”
“No, Gemma.”
She blinked. “What?”
He gave her a regretful look. And her certainty about the sincerity flickered; it was the same practiced look he gave someone when he was turning them down for a case, or a favor, or any other request made of him that he did not want to say yes to. She’d admired how he did it, at first. But she’d never had it turned on her before.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. And again it sounded genuine.
“It’s all right,” she said quickly, not quite sure why she was feeling she needed to scramble to accept something that would have made her angry with anyone else. But she couldn’t be angry with Devlin. She was crazy about him. “I know it’s not your thing, so I’ll quit asking if you want.”
“It’s not that, Gemma.”
Anxiety spiked through her. It was an unfamiliar feeling; she’d had little to be truly anxious about in her life.
“What, Dev? What is it?”
“I wish I could give you what you want.”
“I want you. You know that.”
“Yes.” He said it sadly but gently. “Yes, I do. And I know you mean it.”
“I love you,” she said, the anxiety shifting to desperation, as if a snowfield she’d been admiring had suddenly let go into an avalanche.
“You do,” he said, sounding a little wondering. And looking almost puzzled. “You really do.”
“Yes,” she said, feeling a bit better.
“You deserve that kind of love yourself. You deserve a man who adores you.” He gave a shake of his head, as if he were surprising himself. “And I’m going to give you the chance to find him. Because you genuinely, truly love me.”
None of this was making any sense. “I don’t understand.”
“I can’t give you what you want, Gemma. I don’t love you. Not like that.”
She stared at him. For the first time she admitted to herself that he was really saying it. But she was still far from believing he meant it.
Chapter 2
With the ease of long practice, Dante yanked his thoughts away from his brother, Dominic, who lived about three blocks from the rather dingy apartment he now stood outside, waiting to search. He tried never to think about him or the rest of his lawbreaking family. He’d long ago accepted that he was the odd one out, the one who had not only chosen not to break the law but uphold it. Sometimes Dominic and his snooty wife, Agostina, looked at Dante as if it were the other way around, or as if his very existence in the Mancuso family was some kind of accusation.
As perhaps it was.
Flash nudged his leg. He looked down at the dog. He knew most people would laugh at him for thinking it, but he would swear this time the dog’s solemn expression held concern, as if the animal had sensed where his thoughts had turned. And maybe he had. Like most dogs, Flash was sensitive in areas beyond his prodigious nose.
As he waited, Dante wondered idly if the local judges ever got tired of issuing search warrants in the so far fruitless efforts to relate just about every criminal in Red Ridge to the Larsons. He sure got tired of asking for them, even knowing most of those scumbags were probably part of the
Larson operation.
And the ones who aren’t are probably related to me.
“Well,” Duke said, in the brisk tones of someone changing an uncomfortable subject, “our cursory search was a bust, other than finding out the guy’s apparently addicted to chewing gum. Never seen so many wrappers. Oh, and that microwave is a hazmat zone.”
“So,” Collins said, “I guess you’d better turn the nose loose.”
Flash was on his feet before Dante had to say a word. Collins looked startled. “Enough people call him ‘the nose’ that he’s learned it means he’s about to go to work,” Dante explained.
Collins looked impressed. “Mind if I stick around and watch? Never actually seen him work.”
“Just stay out of his way,” Dante said, his good-humored demeanor now replaced with the all-business attitude that told Flash he’d brook no nonsense. Bloodhounds were notoriously strong headed, and it took an equal amount of stubborn in a handler to get the best out of them. In the beginning he’d had to outlast Flash on a few occasions to get the dog to understand this was a human who would persist until he did what was asked of him.
But I’ve got a lot of practice in stubborn.
Dante shook off the moment when his family tried to trample into his thoughts again. Now was all about Flash. That he also made sure the dog had plenty of fun in his life—which meant hours of purposeless sniffing and romping—had brought them to a place where they were a smooth, efficient working team. And it was time to do that work.
He stepped across the threshold, a now eager Flash at his side. He didn’t bother to have him sniff the officers who had already been inside so he could tell him to ignore those scents; he knew Flash had already done that. Dante wasn’t sure how the dog processed it, but he knew which scents to ignore.
When he gave the command to search, the dog set off instantly. Dante watched, thinking as he often did that if he mapped out the dog’s travels, there would be no pattern. And yet to Flash, the paths were as clear as a well-lit interstate. And every inch of those paths must be sniffed at length. In such an enclosed space, Dante supposed it took more time to sort out the trails. He knew the animal’s incredible nose could track a scent hundreds of hours old, but the suspect had been in this place not even three hours ago, so it should be hot and fresh.