A cop confronts a deadly killer and explosive secrets in the latest chapter of The Coltons of Shadow Creek!

For bomb squad K-9 officer Donovan Colton, nothing about a failed car bombing in his Texas hometown makes sense. Why would anyone target quiet, secretive accountant Bellamy Reeves, and why does his canine partner instantly trust her? Donovan is searching for his own mysterious past, but he can’t resist solving the riddle that is beautiful Bellamy.

After experiencing a tragic loss, Bellamy knows how hard it can be to trust. Threatened by her former employer, she is reluctant to open up to dangerously sexy Donovan—or his adorable dog! But the harder Donovan works to keep her safe, the more Bellamy longs to let what’s between them turn into something more—even as their lives are poised to be blown apart…

The Coltons of Shadow Creek

“How close were you to the car?”

“I’d gotten in and realized I hadn’t closed the trunk. I was behind the car when it just—” Bellamy broke off, the disbelief still clear in her eyes. “When it just exploded.”

“We’re going to take a look at it but first I need Alex to sniff the rest of the cars that are still here so we can get these people out of here. Can you wait for me?”

“Where else am I going to go?”

For reasons Donovan couldn’t explain, he sensed there was something more in her comment. Something that went well beyond a car bomb or the shaky aftereffects of surviving a crime.

Something terrible had taken the light out of her beautiful gray eyes.

And he was determined to find out why.

* * *

The Coltons of Shadow Creek:

Only family can keep you safe…

Colton K-9 Cop

Addison Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ADDISON FOX is a lifelong romance reader, addicted to happy-ever-afters. After discovering she found as much joy writing about romance as she did reading it, she’s never looked back. Addison lives in New York with an apartment full of books, a laptop that’s rarely out of sight and a wily beagle who keeps her running. You can find her at her home on the web at www.addisonfox.com or on Facebook (Facebook.com/addisonfoxauthor) and Twitter (@addisonfox).

For Max

You came into my life when I least expected it and have colored my world with puppy cuddles, cookie (mis)adventures and joy.

Always joy.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Five years ago

She held the garland loosely in her hand as she slowly unwound the bright gold in steady, even rows. Turn by turn, the empty green branches filled with the shiny, vivid color as Bellamy Reeves enjoyed watching her handiwork come to life.

Her parents had asked her to work the store this evening, their annual holiday event with the local men’s club a highlight of their year. She’d been happy to do it, the familiar work of managing the counter and ringing up purchases at Whisperwood’s only corner store something she’d been doing since childhood. It was a far cry from her work in finance at Lone Star Pharmaceutical but it kept her in touch with her roots and she enjoyed it.

Add on that it gave her a shot at stringing up the decorations just to her personal specifications, and it was a job she was happy to take on.

Maggie had teased her about risking spinsterhood if she were willing to work the family store on a holiday Saturday night and Bellamy had ignored her. Her sister was fond of quoting all the pithy reasons Bellamy was doomed to a lonely existence and she’d learned to ignore it.

Or, if not ignore it, at least stop caring about it so much.

Her sister was the resident beauty queen of Whisperwood, Texas. She’d had men wrapped around her finger basically since she’d crawled out of the womb and had learned to drape herself over their arms not much longer after that.

Bellamy was different.

She wasn’t afraid of men. Nor was she afraid of dating or putting herself out there. She dated regularly but just hadn’t found anyone who interested her. Or made her feel special.

She’d spent her life observing her parents’ marriage and knew that was the type of love and companionship she sought. A deep, abiding commitment that bonded the two of them together.

Tonight was a perfect example.

Although it was the men’s club event, both her parents enjoyed the evening in equal measure. It was nice, she mused as she dug in a large plastic container for another string of garland. And while the event might seem simple or unimportant—a dinner dance at the Whisperwood Lodge—it was something they looked forward to and talked about all year long.

The bell over the front door of the store jingled and Bellamy eyed the entrance as a well-built man pushed his way in, a puppy cradled in his arms. Her father was fairly laid-back about the store, but since they sold food, animals were forbidden unless in service. “I’m sorry, sir, but the dog needs to stay outside.”

Dark brows slashed over even darker eyes and the guy juggled the black Lab pup from one well-formed arm to another, his biceps flexing as he shifted the limp bundle. “Believe it or not, he’s a service dog. In training,” the guy quickly added before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a badge. “I’m with the Austin PD. I’m his handler.”

The sight of the puppy—and the sudden delight she didn’t need to kick them out—had her crossing the store to greet them. “He’s sweet.”

“And sick, I think. He’s not very energetic and he won’t eat.”

“Oh.” She reached out to lay a hand on the small head, the fur silky soft over the bony ridges of his skull. He was small, but the large paws that hung over the man’s forearms indicated the puppy would be a big guy once fully grown.

“I wanted to pick up some chicken and rice and hoped you’d have what I needed.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I had both already cooked in the stockroom?”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. They’re my bland leftovers from lunch that I brought along in some vague attempt to offset Christmas cookie consumption.”

Although he wasn’t inappropriate, his eyes drifted over her body before settling back on her face. “You’re dieting?”

Heat burned a path where he’d gazed, that steady appreciation lighting a fire. “I prefer to think of it as holiday calorie management. A goal I’m failing at miserably, seeing as how the bland chicken and even blander rice were horrible.”

“Why not toss it?”

“Some vague notion of trying again tomorrow. You know—” she waved a hand as she headed for the back of the store “—to make up for the pizza I ate in its place today.”

A hearty laugh followed her through the swinging door into the stockroom and she beelined for the fridge and the leftovers.

Her father’s store carried all the basic necessities of a convenience store and boasted a fairly hearty kitchen out front to accommodate the breakfast and lunch crowds who buzzed in for coffee and portable meals. She’d nuke the chicken and rice out at the counter and be able to keep an eye on the front door at the same time.

She could also keep an eye on Officer Hottie.

Wow, the man was good-looking. His body, evident beneath the long-sleeved black T-shirt that seemed sculpted to his shoulders, was strong without being imposing. And the way he cradled the dog had pretty much put her ovaries on high alert.

He was hot and a dog lover. Did it get much better?

She pushed through the stockroom door, only to see the back of the guy’s head disappear through the front exit. Spears of disappointment layered over the lingering heat until she saw him bend over through the glass, his small charge quivering before him on the sidewalk. She raced to the counter and grabbed a few bottles of water, then headed for the miserable little puppy getting sick on the front parking lot.

“Is he okay?”

The guy glanced up from where he crouched on the ground, his hand on the small black back. “I think so. Or he will be.”

She passed down a bottle of water, touched when the guy twisted it open and poured some into his palm. “Come on, Alex. Here you go.”

The small head bent toward that cupped hand, the sound of his tongue lapping drifting toward her in the cool night air.

“Poor baby.” She didn’t miss the three brightly colored plastic pieces that lay in the pile of vomit. “Legos strike again.”

“What?”

She pointed toward the small pile. “Looks like a blue vase holding a single plastic flower and a two-piece.”

Officer Hottie’s gaze zeroed in on the offending irritants, his voice gruff. “Just the pieces my niece mentioned were missing from her masterpiece before we sat down to dinner.”

He poured more water into his hand and the Lab lapped it up, the trauma of his ordeal fading as his natural eagerness returned.

“He’s looking better already.” Bellamy opened the second bottle and poured it over the sidewalk, erasing the evidence and washing the Lego blocks aside. She’d come out later and pick them up with a broom.

Or planned to, until the guy pulled out a hanky from his back pocket and cleaned up the plastic, tossing the entire package into the trash. “That’ll teach me to let dog or child out of my sight together again.”

“That’s wise.” She couldn’t resist his rueful grin or the clear relief in his dark eyes. Suddenly conscious of standing there staring at him, she shifted her gaze toward Alex’s sweet face and the tongue that lolled out the side of his mouth. “Why don’t you come back in and we can give him the food?”

“If you’re sure?”

She smiled at that. “I’m certainly not going to eat it, no matter how many vows I make to myself. It’ll be nice to see it go to a more appreciative recipient. Plus, he should probably go easy on dinner based on his recent Lego binge. The bland food won’t hurt him.”

The guy followed her back inside and she picked up the discarded container to warm up the leftovers.

“Would you mind if I came behind the counter and washed up?” He pointed to the sink beside her.

“Come on.”

“Then I can introduce myself properly and shake your hand.” He settled the puppy on the ground, issuing a series of commands that had the small body sitting up straight. The little guy tried to move, his butt squirming on the floor a few times, but ultimately gave in to the firm tone and the unyielding command by sitting where he was told.

“He’s good. How old is he?”

“About ten weeks.”

“And he can listen already?”

“‘Sit’ is about all he can listen to, but he’s coming along.” Hands clean, the guy turned the full force of his attention on her. For the briefest moment, Bellamy could have sworn she saw stars, the sky around his face glowing brighter than the gold of the garland. Quelling the ridiculous impression, she focused on the moment and not making an ass out of herself, especially when that warm, slightly damp palm closed around hers.

“I’m Donovan Colton.”

Colton?

The Coltons were well known in Texas; several branches of the family were scattered across the Hill Country. She thought she knew the entire family who lived in Whisperwood, but hadn’t placed Donovan when he’d walked in.

Shaking off the sudden awareness when she realized she was standing there, staring at the man, she quickly shook his hand. “Bellamy Reeves.”

“Thank you, Bellamy. I appreciate the help.”

“I’m happy to help. And I’m glad the little guy’s okay.”

The microwave pinged and she pulled the food out, then transferred it to a paper plate before handing it over. The moment was oddly domestic, Donovan’s close proximity and their joint actions to put food together for the puppy surprisingly intimate.

The bell over the store entrance pinged and she went to help her customer. One of the high school coaches, who came in regularly for his nightly dinner of soda and a meatball sub seemed unphased by the addition of a puppy behind the counter.

“Hey, Bell. Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”

“I’m helping my parents out tonight. They’re out cutting a rug at the men’s club event.”

“You doing well?”

“Yep. We’re closing out a busy year at work.”

“How’s Magnolia doing?”

It happened often enough, she wasn’t sure why she was surprised any longer. The small talk as a method to ask about her sister. The pretend friendliness that was really just a fishing expedition.

“Maggie’s good. She had a hot date tonight so she abandoned me in favor of a night of dinner and dancing.”

Bellamy handed over the sub, not surprised when the coach’s face fell. And while she’d not-so-delicately delivered news he obviously didn’t want to hear, it didn’t make the facts of Maggie’s plans any less true. The besotted coach paid and was on his way out without saying much more.

“Did he even notice Alex was back here?” Donovan marveled once the guy was gone, the scent of his spicy sub wafting in his wake.

“He deals with teenagers all day. I suspect it takes a lot to rile him.”

“Maybe.” Donovan bent and took the now-empty paper plate. “Guess Alex got his appetite back.”

She dropped to her knee and rubbed the silky head. The puppy’s gaze caught on hers, his brown eyes trusting as he stared up at her. “He sure is sweet.”

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s a Lego thief.”

Bellamy rubbed a bit harder before laughing when the puppy presented his belly for additional petting. “He’s at risk of being spoiled.” Pulling her hand back, she realized the potential danger of her lavish affection. “Should I be doing that? Am I going to put his training at risk?”

“There are hard-core guys among my numbers who may not agree with me, but I think part of his training is also knowing there’s praise and affection. A few belly rubs after this evening’s trauma shouldn’t do too much damage.”

When Alex’s wiggles of ecstasy quickly faded to longer breaths and droopy eyes, she gave him a final pat and stood, coming face-to-face with Donovan.

Goodness, the man was attractive. His dark hair was cut close and showed off a sharply angled face and strong jaw. He was thick in build, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Instead, he looked competent.

Capable.

And no one to mess with.

It made the warm eyes and sexy smile that much more powerful. Like she’d tempted him just the slightest bit to go against character.

“You mentioned closing out a busy year to that guy. You don’t work here?”

“This is my parents’ store. I grew up working here and can still be counted on to take a shift every now and again.”

“This place is a Whisperwood institution.”

She laughed at that, the description not quite how she’d have classified a small town corner store. “One they know about all the way up in Austin?”

“My family’s here in Whisperwood. I grew up here and Mr. Reeves could always be counted on for a summer popsicle or a late night cup of coffee. I just came down for the evening for a family Christmas party and to put my dog at risk of my niece and her Legos.”

She glanced at the clock and thought that eight was awfully early for an evening family party to end, but held the thought. Maybe they started early or maybe the kids had to go to bed. But...it raised questions.

“How long have you been a part of the APD?”

“I went in straight out of college, so a few years now. I’ve wanted K-9, and Alex is my first opportunity.”

She did the quick math, estimating he was about four or five years younger than her. The thought was briefly unsettling—she usually went for older guys—but there was something about him that made the question of age seem more arbitrary than anything else.

Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong places, Bellamy Reeves.

Catching herself staring, she refocused on Alex. “You’re responsible for his training?”

“A good part of it. There’s a formal program for the entire K-9 team and their handlers, but we’re paired. He lives with me and works with me.”

She glanced down at the now-sleeping puppy and considered what that must be like. Fun, in a way, but what a responsibility. “What will he be able to do?”

“Once he’s fully trained? He’ll run the gamut on what he can find, including humans, drugs and bombs.”

“Wow.”

As she eyed the jean-clad form that even now leaned against her counter, she had to admit Donovan Colton made an impressive figure. And it wasn’t just his body, though she could hardly deny that she found him attractive.

Wow was right.

There was an intensity about him. Some indefinable quality that intrigued her.

He was interesting. And she’d often found the opposite of attractive men, especially if her sister’s long list of past boyfriends was any indication. It was as if somehow masculine features, a firm jaw and a sparkling smile negated any sense of humanity or interest in the world around them.

But not this guy.

“The K-9 team is designed to work across cases so we can go where we’re needed. There are six others in the APD. Alex and I will make seven.”

“It’s impressive. And while he’s obviously got great promise, you’ve got a big year ahead of you. I wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” Donovan’s gaze dropped toward the sleeping puppy before lifting back to her. “So if you don’t work here, what do you do?”

“I’m an employee at Lone Star Pharmaceutical. I’m just helping out here since my parents had plans tonight.”

“LSP. That’s impressive. Are you a chemist or something?”

“No, I’m in finance.” Ignoring the whisper through her mind of Maggie’s continued admonitions to showcase herself in the best light, Bellamy pressed on. “They’re wise to keep me away from beakers. Other than warming things up in a microwave, I avoid anything that involves cooking or open flames.”

“Maybe I should consider inviting you to dinner, then, instead of risking you making anything behind that counter for me.”

“Maybe.”

“What time do you get off tonight?”

“I close up at ten and this is small town Texas. Nothing’s open then.”

“What about next week?”

“Sure. I—” She broke off when a distracted air came over his face, his hand dropping to the phone clipped at the waist of his jeans.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting a dispatch.”

He excused himself and moved around the counter toward the door, his gaze morphing from friendly and sexy to straight cop.

Alex stirred, his senses on immediate alert at the emotional change in the atmosphere. He was on his feet and scrambling toward Donovan in a heartbeat. When he reached Donovan, he sat immediately, his little body arrow straight.

Bellamy marveled at it, the ease and trust she could already see between the two of them. If the dog was this responsive to training at ten weeks, she couldn’t imagine what he’d become once fully grown.

The low tenor of Donovan’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. Something had happened. Something bad, if his clipped responses were any indication.

“I’m sorry. I have to go. Can we take a rain check on that dinner?”

“Of course.”

The sexy cop and his trusty sidekick were out of the store as fast as they came in and for several moments, Bellamy simply stood and watched the door where they’d disappeared, wondering if the evening had actually happened.

It was only when she got the call a half hour later that she knew the exact accident Donovan Colton was called to. And that the people he’d helped pull from two tons of wreckage were her parents.

Chapter One

The last strains of “Jingle Bells” faded out, giving way to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” as Bellamy Reeves clicked the last email in her inbox. Despite the multicolored lights she’d hung in her office and the music she’d determinedly turned on each morning and kept on low throughout the day, nothing seemed to get her in the holiday spirit.

Losing both parents over the summer had left a hole in her life and in her heart. She’d braced herself, of course, well aware the holidays would be a challenge. But even with the knowledge the season wouldn’t be the same, she’d diligently clung to the belief she could find some sense of joy, somewhere.

How wrong she’d been.

The days seemed to drag, no matter how busy she made herself, and her job at Lone Star Pharmaceutical—a job she’d worked hard at for several years—couldn’t fill the gaps.

“One more email,” she whispered to herself on a resigned sigh. “I’ll do the last one and cut out early.”

The company was estimated to finish out the year with stellar earnings, and management had given everyone an extra day of comp time as a reward for all the hard work. Most people had used the time to go shopping for presents in nearby Austin or to take in the pretty decorations scattered throughout downtown Whisperwood. She’d done none of those things, not up for walking the sidewalks and making small talk with her fellow townsfolk.

Which had also meant she was still sitting on the extra time. Perhaps an afternoon off would provide a chance to recharge and shake the malaise that seemed determined to hover around her shoulders.

She missed her parents terribly, but it was also the first holiday in more than she could remember that wasn’t encumbered by illness. Her father’s loss of mobility five years before had taken a toll on all of them and her life had been filled with pill bottles, a wheelchair and ramps throughout the house, and bouts of belligerence that telegraphed DJ Reeves’s frustration with his body’s betrayal.

It hardly spoke well of her, that she was relieved that stage of life had passed, but in her quiet moments of honest reflection she could admit it was true.

Illness. Suffering. And an endless sort of wasting away that stole the joy out of life. All of it had affected her mother as surely as her father’s loss of mobility in the accident had decimated his. Where her mother had once found joy in simple pleasures—gardening or cooking or even a glass of wine—watching her husband deteriorate had caused a matched response. Ginny Reeves had wasted away as surely as her husband had and nothing Bellamy had tried could coax her out of it.

The kidney failure that finally stole him from them in June had been the final straw for her mother. Her mental health had deteriorated rapidly after that, and the heart attack that took her in late July had almost seemed unavoidable.

“And here I am, right back to maudlin and depressed,” she whispered to herself as she reached for the bottle of water she kept perpetually refilled on her desk.

The water had been another nod to health, her recognition of mortality—a fact of life with her parents, and an equally relevant fact of life working for a pharmaceutical company. Lone Star Pharmaceutical had hired her out of college and she’d steadily worked her way up through the ranks, responsible for any number of financial projects. For the past two years, she’d been part of the team that managed the costs to bring new drugs to market and had honed her skills around price elasticity, working with insurance companies and ensuring LSP had a place on doctors’ prescription lists.

The role had been meant for her, honing her accounting knowledge and expanding her contribution to the overall business and its bottom line. She’d loved LSP already, but coupled with the professional advancement, her employer had also been understanding of her family situation. They’d allowed for flexible scheduling when she’d needed it and hadn’t asked her to curtail the care and attention her parents needed.

She’d met enough people in waiting rooms at the hospital to know that flexibility was a gift beyond measure. The fact she’d also had an opportunity to still be considered for and receive promotions had cemented her sense of loyalty to LSP that was impossible to shake.

The company was a good one, with a focus on making life better for its consumers, its employees and even the community where it made its home—Whisperwood, Texas. Their CEO, Sutton Taylor, was a longtime resident and had stated on many occasions how important it was to him that his company have the same deep roots as he did.

Deep Texas roots, he usually clarified with a wink and a smile.

She couldn’t hold back a faint smile of her own at the image of Sutton Taylor, standing tall in his suit and cowboy boots, proudly telling the employees how strong their year-end numbers looked. It wouldn’t bring her parents back, but she could at least take some small joy in knowing she’d worked hard and contributed to a job well-done.

Satisfied she might leave the office on a glimmer of a bright note, Bellamy returned to her email, determined to tackle the last one before leaving for the afternoon.

The missive still bold because it was unread, Bellamy scanned the subject line, registering the odd description. RE: Vaccine Normalization.

Normalization of what?

The sender said INTERNAL, a company address she didn’t immediately recognize, but she clicked anyway. A quick scan of the header information didn’t show a named sender, either, nor was there anyone in the “To” list. Intrigued, Bellamy leaned forward, searching for anything that resembled usable details to describe what she was looking at.

Was it a virus?

That subject never failed to make her smile, the fact they had a department that battled real viruses housed in the same location as one who battled the digital kind. The humor quickly gave way to the sobering details that filled the content of the note.

Bellamy caught the subject in snatches, the words practically blurring as she processed the odd, bulleted sentences.

LSP’s virus vaccine, AntiFlu, will be distributed in limited quantities, with release schedule held in the strictest confidence.

Quantities are throttled to highest bidder, with market pricing increased to match quantity scarcity.

Management of egg supply has been secured.

If those points weren’t bad enough, the closing lines of the email left no question as to what she was reading.

Lone Star Pharma has a zero-tolerance policy for discounted distribution of AntiFlu for the annual flu season. There will be no acceptance of annual contract prices with existing accounts.

Bellamy reread the email once, then again, the various details spiking her thoughts in different directions.

Throttled availability? Controlled pricing? Fixed scarcity?

And the fact there was mention of the egg supply—the incubation engine for production of the vaccine—was shocking.

What was this?

She read the note once more before scrolling back up to review the header details. The sender was veiled, but it did originate from an LSP email address.

Who would send this to her? And worse, why would anyone possibly want to keep the very product they created for the public’s good out of that same public’s hands? She knew for a fact they had more than enough flu vaccine for the season. She also knew the scientific team had followed the CDC’s guidelines for which strains of flu needed to be included.

She scrolled through the details once more, daring the words to change and prove her interpretation incorrect. But one more reread, or one hundred more, wasn’t going to change the information housed in the email.

If this email was to be believed, the company she loved and believed in had turned to some dark and illegal practices.

* * *

“WELCOME BACK TO WHISPERWOOD, Alex. Quintessential small town Texas, from the tippy top of the big white gazebo smack in the middle of the town square, to the string of shops on Main Street.”

Donovan Colton glanced over at his companion as he passed the gazebo and turned from Maple onto Main, unsurprised when he didn’t receive a pithy response or even acknowledgment of his comment. As a matter of course, he’d have been more concerned if he had received a response.

His large black Lab possessed many talents, but a speaking voice wasn’t one of them.

What Alex—short for Alexander the Great—did have was a nose that could sniff out explosive materials and he knew exactly how to translate that knowledge back to Donovan so he could in turn secure help. The fact Alex had several hundred million scent receptors in his nose—and had been trained almost since birth to use them in support of police work—meant Donovan had a powerful partner in their work to capture the bad guys.

It also helped he got along far better with his canine partner than he ever would have with a real live human one.

Donovan had been an animal lover since he was small. His various chores around the Colton ranch never seemed like chores if an animal was involved. Whether it was horse duty, mucking stalls or collecting eggs from the coops, he hadn’t cared or seen any of it as work, so long as he got to spend time with the furry and the feathered Coltons who shared space on the large ranch that sprawled at the far west end of Whisperwood.

That love ran ever deeper to any number of mutts who had called the Colton ranch home.

Just like me, Donovan added to himself, the thought a familiar one.

Shaking it off, he focused on the gorgeous dog next to him. Donovan had loved each and every canine that had graced his life, but Alex was something extra special. Alex had been trained since puppyhood for life on a K-9 team; the two of them had bonded quickly, one an extension of the other. Alex looked to him for security, order, discipline and the clear role as alpha of their pack. In return, Donovan stroked, praised, and directed the animal into any number of search and rescue situations, confident his companion could handle the work.

And Alex always did.

From bombs to missing persons, Alex did his job with dedication, focus and—more often than not—a rapid wag of his tail.

Yep. Donovan would take a four-footed partner over one with two feet any day.

Not that he could technically complain about any of the fine men and women he’d worked with in the past, but something just fit with Alex. They had a bond and a way of working that was far easier than talking to someone.

Their trip to Whisperwood had been unusually quiet, he and Alex dispatched to an old warehouse site to confirm the Austin PD hadn’t missed any drugs on a raid the prior week. The cache they had discovered had been worth millions and Donovan’s captain wanted to ensure they hadn’t overlooked anything.

Donovan’s thorough site review hadn’t revealed any missed stashes but it was Alex’s attention to the crime scene that reinforced the fact the initial discovery team had found all there was to find. Donovan would bet his badge on it.

If Alex couldn’t find it, it’s because it didn’t exist.

What it also meant was that his trip to Whisperwood was over far earlier than Donovan had planned.

And disappearing back out of town—especially after greeting the local chief of police at the crime scene—wasn’t going to go down very well. If his mother knew he’d come through and hadn’t stopped by, no amount of excuses could save him.

“You’re just too damn good, Alex.”

The dog’s tongue lolled happily to the side while he maintained a steady view of the passing scenery outside the car. The use of his name had Alex’s ears perking but even the warm tone couldn’t distract the dog from the holiday wreaths hanging neatly from each lamppost in town.

Donovan took in the view, his memories of his hometown not too far off the mark of the real thing. The wreaths came out like clockwork the Monday before Thanksgiving, hanging until precisely the third day after the new year. A town committee changed out the ribbons on each wreath every week so they remained perfectly tied throughout the holiday. Red, green and gold, they alternated in a steady pattern, accompanied by bright, vibrant banners that wished people the happiness of the season.

His gaze drifted toward the corner store, an old memory pushing against his thoughts. A night, several Christmases past, when he’d had a sick little puppy and had flirted with a woman.

She’d been kind, he remembered, and pretty in a way that wasn’t flashy, but that intrigued all the same. There was something solid there. Lasting, even. Which was silly, since he hadn’t spent more than a half hour in her company before heading out on a call.

He’d thought to go in and ask about her a few times since, but training Alex had provided Donovan with a good excuse to stay out of his hometown; by the time he came back a year and a half later it had seemed lame—and far too late—to stop back in and ask about her.

But he did think of her every now and again. The slender form that filled out a pair of jeans with curves that had made his fingers itch and just enough skin showing at the top of her blouse to shift his thoughts in interesting, heated directions.

Dismissing the vague memory of pretty gray eyes and long, dark hair, he refocused on the pristine streets before him and the large ranch housed at the edge of town.

He needed to go see his mother. If he was lucky, his father would be out for the afternoon and he could avoid the lecture about coming to visit more often. He found it odd—funny, even—that it was his father who was more determined to deliver that particular guilt trip than his mother.

At the edge of the town square, Donovan looked at the large gazebo that dominated the space before putting on his blinker to head toward the Colton ranch. “Pretty as a picture.”

At his comment, Alex’s ears perked again and he turned from the view out the passenger window, his head tilted slightly toward Donovan.

“You don’t miss a trick, do you?”

Donovan took his role as alpha in their relationship seriously, and that meant avoiding tension, anger or panic when speaking and working with Alex. Donovan had always innately understood an animal’s poor acceptance of those emotions, but his K-9 training had reinforced it. He needed to stay calm and firm in the face of his furry partner, never allowing random, spiking emotions a place in their partnership.

Which meant the emotions that had the deepest of roots—established in the very foundation of his childhood—needed to be avoided at all costs. Especially if the prospect of visiting the Colton ranch was transmitted by his tone.

Extending a hand, he ruffled Alex’s head and ears, scratching the spot he knew was particularly sensitive. A low, happy groan echoed from his partner when Donovan kneaded the small area behind Alex’s ears, effectively erasing whatever tension he’d pushed into his police-issued SUV.

And on a resigned sigh, he made the turn that would carry him to the large ranch that sprawled for over a thousand acres deep in the heart of Texas Hill Country.

Home.

* * *

BELLAMY FOUGHT THE steady swirl of nerves that coated her stomach, bumping and diving like waves roiling on a winter’s day as she walked the long corridor toward the human resources department. Lone Star Pharmaceutical had a sprawling campus and HR was three buildings away from her own, connected through a series of parking lots as well as overhead walkways for when the weather was poor or just too darn hot during a Texas summer.

She’d thought to call ahead and share her concerns but for reasons she couldn’t quite explain to herself, ultimately decided on a surprise approach.

Was she even supposed to have the email?

The sender was veiled, but so was the distribution list. She didn’t even know why she’d been targeted for such information.

Snatches of the email floated through her mind’s eye, each destructive word adding another pitch and roll to those waves.

Limited quantities...throttled to highest bidder...quantity scarcity...

No acceptance of annual contract prices.

Was this the reason for the exceptionally strong year at LSP? Were they all celebrating extra time off and assured holiday bonuses at the expense of human lives?

She’d worked in finance her entire life and monitoring the ebbs and flows of the business was a part of her day to day. She understood balance sheets and marketplace pricing. She understood profit and loss statements. And she understood what it took to run an ethical business that still remained profitable.

And creating a scarcity in the market—deliberately—was not legal.

But it could be very, very profitable.

All the drugs LSP produced were essential for the individuals who needed them. They led the market on several fronts, with specialties in diabetes, heart disease and cholesterol reducing medicines. LSP had also done wonders with drugs designed to improve motor skills, several of which had been essential to her father’s well-being.

But the flu vaccine was a whole different issue.

For anyone suffering from an illness, access to proper care and medicine was essential, but the flu affected everyone. A bad season could kill a large number of people, especially those at highest risk.

Just like her parents.

Had her father forgone a flu vaccine for the last several years of his life, he’d surely have been at higher risk of dying from the virus. And the fewer people vaccinated, the higher the risk.

Was it really possible LSP was attempting to profit from that?

Technically, they were late in the season to get the vaccine, but even as late as the prior week she’d run the numbers and realized that immunizations were down versus the prior year.

Was that because too many people felt they didn’t need protection?

Or because there wasn’t any protection in the market?

She tamped down on another wave of bile cresting in her stomach and knocked on the open door of the HR department. She’d been at LSP long enough to know several members of the HR team but wasn’t acquainted with the head of HR, Sally Borne.

A light “come in” echoed through the cavernous outer office. Bellamy understood why the voice sounded so far away when she saw only one person seated in what appeared to be a sea of about six desks. She headed for the woman, taking in the office along the way. Decorations celebrating the holiday season peppered the walls and filing cabinets, and a bright string of lights hung from the ceiling over a table that held a pretty menorah as well as a beautifully carved wooden kinara holding the seven candles of Kwanzaa.

This holiday sentiment was matched throughout the five buildings of LSP and reflected Sutton Taylor’s stated goals of inclusion and celebration of diversity. It had been yet one more facet of life at LSP and one more reason she loved where she worked.

Could someone who believed so deeply in humanity and culture and individuality be so soulless as to withhold essential drugs for the good of others?

“Can I help you?” The lone woman smiled, her voice kind as she stood behind her desk, effectively welcoming Bellamy in.

“I’d like to speak to Sally Borne.”

“What’s this regarding?”

“It’s a private matter.”

There was the briefest flash of awareness in the woman’s bright blue eyes before she nodded. “Let me see if Sally has a few minutes in her schedule. I’ll be right back.”

Pleasant smile for a watchdog, Bellamy thought.

The idea struck swiftly and was at odds with the sense of inclusion that had welcomed her into the human resources department.

The woman disappeared toward a wall of frosted windows that allowed in light but made it impossible to see through. The windows covered what appeared to be one large office that extended across the back of the space. While it was to be expected—Human Resources dealt with any number of private matters—something about the glass made her think of a prison.

Which only reinforced just how far gone her thoughts had traveled since reading the email.

This was Human Resources, for Pete’s sake. The department in all of Lone Star Pharmaceutical that was designed to help the employees.

Bellamy had worked with HR during her flex time requests when she was caring for her parents and they’d been kind and deeply understanding. They’d been in a different building then, only recently having moved into this space in the main building that housed the LSP executive staff.

Sally Borne was new to the company, as well. She’d replaced their retiring HR lead in the fall and had already implemented several new hiring initiatives as well as a new employee training program that was rolling out department by department. The woman was a leader and, by all accounts, good for Lone Star Pharmaceutical. Painting her as some fire-breathing dragon behind a retaining wall wasn’t going to get Bellamy anywhere.

Especially as those waves in her stomach continued to roil, harder and harder, as she waited for the meeting.

The sensation was so at odds with her normal experience at work. She’d become accustomed to the frustration and fear that came from managing her father’s care, but LSP had always been a safe haven. She loved her job and her work and found solace in the routine and the sense of accomplishment. At LSP, she was in control.

So why did she feel so out of control since opening that damn email?

“Are you ready?” The lone HR worker reappeared from Sally’s office, her smile still firmly intact.

“Thank you.”

Bellamy ignored the sense of being watched, and headed for the inner domain, hidden along the back wall. There was neither a fire-breathing dragon nor anything to worry about. She’d been sent the suspicious email. Coming to HR was simply about doing her job.

More, it was about being responsible to it.

“Hello.” Sally Borne met her at the door, her hand extended and that same bright smile highlighting her face. “I’m Sally.”

Bellamy introduced herself, then provided a sense of her role in the company. “I’m part of the financial team that manages the process of bringing new drugs to market.”

“Andrew Lucas’s team?”

“Yes, Andrew is my boss.”

Sally nodded and pursed her lips before extending a hand toward her desk. Bellamy followed her, settling herself in a hard visitor’s chair while Sally took her position behind a large oak monstrosity that looked like it belonged in Sutton Taylor’s office.

Sally scribbled something on a blank legal pad, her attention focused on the paper. “Is Andrew aware you’re here?”

Bellamy forced a small smile, unwilling to have the woman think she was here to complain about her boss. “Andrew’s not the reason I’m here.”

“But does he know you’re here?”

“No.”

“How can I help you then, Ms. Reeves?”

The prospect of sharing the details of what she’d discovered had haunted Bellamy throughout the walk from her office to HR, but now that she was here, the reality of what she had to share became stifling. Whether she’d been the intended recipient or not, the information she held was damning in the extreme. Anyone within LSP who would make such a decision or declaration would surely be fired. Worse, the possibility of jail time had to be a distinct consideration. They might be a for-profit company, but they still worked for the public good.

Was she really sure of what she’d come to discuss with HR?

Even as she asked herself the question, the memory of what she had read in the email steeled her resolve.

She was sitting on a problem and rationalizing it away at a personal moment of truth was unfair at best, flat out immoral at worst.

“I received an odd email today and I felt it was important to discuss it with you directly.”

“Odd?” Sally’s hands remained folded on top of her desk but the vapid smile that had ridden her features faded slightly.

“There wasn’t a named sender, for starters.”

“We have effective spam filters on our email but things can slip through. Do you think that was it?”

“No, no, I don’t. The email just said ‘internal.’”

“And no one signed it?”

“No.”

Something small yet insistent began to buzz at the base of Bellamy’s spine. Unlike the concern and panic that had flooded her system upon realizing what the email held, this was a different sort of discomfort. Like how animals in the forest scented a fire long before it arrived.

A distinct sense of danger began to beat beneath her skin.

“Here. Look at this.” Bellamy pulled the printout she’d made out of the folder she’d slipped it into, passing it across the desk. “If you look at the top, you can see it came from the LSP domain.”

Sally stared at the note, reading through the contents. Her expression never changed, but neither did that vague sense of menace Bellamy couldn’t shake. One that grew darker when Sally laid the paper on her desk, pushing it beneath her keyboard.

“This is a poor joke, Ms. Reeves.”

“A joke?”

“You come in here and suggest someone’s sending you inappropriate messaging, then you hand me a note that’s something out of a paranoid fantasy. What sort of sabotage are you intending to perpetrate against LSP?”

“I’m trying to prevent it.”

“By forging a note and tossing it around like you’re some affronted party?”

Affronted party? Forgery? The damn thing had popped into her inbox a half hour ago.

“This was sent to me.”

Even as Bellamy’s temperature hit a slow boil, Sally Borne sat across from her as if she were the injured party. “Are you sure about that? It would be easy enough to make a few changes in a photo alteration program and muster this up. Or perhaps you’re even more skilled and able to hack into our email servers.”

“You can’t be serious. I received this email. Pull up the server files yourself if you’re so convinced they’ve been tampered with.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

Bellamy sat back, her ire subsiding in the face of an even more unbelievable truth. The director of Human Resources didn’t believe her. “You do understand the implications of something like this?”

“I most certainly do.”

Although this wasn’t the same as losing her parents, Bellamy couldn’t fully shake the sadness and, worse, the acute sense of loss at Sally Borne’s callous disregard for her word. Her truth. With one last push, she tried to steer the conversation back to steady ground.

“Who could possibly be sending messages like this? What are they trying to accomplish? And who else might have received something like this?”

“You tell me.” Sally waved an idle hand in the direction of the email now lodged beneath her keyboard. “You’re the one in possession of the mysterious email. No one else has called me or sent me any others to review.” Sally’s gaze never wavered as she stared back from her side of the large desk, her words landing like shards of ice as they were volleyed across that imposing expanse.

“Which I’m trying to get your help with. Could you imagine if this were really true?” Bellamy asked, willing the woman to understand the gravity of the situation. “We’d be putting millions of lives at risk.”

Only when Sally only stared at her, gaze determinedly blank, did the pieces begin to click into place.

“So it’s true, then? LSP is tampering with vaccines.” The words came out on a strangled whisper.

“What’s true is that you’re a financial leader at this company determined to spread lies and disruption,” Sally snapped back.

“I’m not—”

A brisk knock at the door had Bellamy breaking off and turning to see the same woman from the outer office. “Ms. Borne. Here are the details you asked for.”

A large file was passed over the desk and Bellamy saw her name emblazoned on the tab of the thick folder.

Her employment file?

“Thank you, Marie.” Sally took the folder as the helpful, efficient Marie rushed back out of the office.

It was only when the file was laid down that Bellamy saw a note on top. The writing was neat and precise and easily visible across the desk.

10+ year employee.

Steadfast, determined, orderly.

Both parents died in past year.

She was under evaluation here? And what would her parents’ deaths have to do with anything?

Sally tapped the top before opening the manila file. Thirteen years of performance reviews and salary documentation spilled from the edges, but it was that note on top that seemed to echo the truth of her circumstances.

For all her efforts to make a horrible situation right, something had gone terribly wrong.

“Is there a reason you felt the need to pull my personnel file?”

“A matter of routine.”

“Oh? What sort of routine?”

“When an employee is behaving in a suspicious manner, I like to understand what I’m dealing with.”

“Then you’ll quickly understand you’re dealing with a highly competent employee who has always received stellar reviews and professional accolades.”

Sally flipped back to the cover, her gaze floating once more over the attached note. “I also see a woman who’s suffered a terrible loss.”

While she’d obviously registered the note about her parents when the file was dropped off, nothing managed to stick when she tried to understand where Sally was going with the information. “I lost my parents earlier this year.”

“Both of them.”

“Yes.”

“Were they in an accident?”

“My father has been ill for many years, the repercussions of a serious accident. My mother’s health, unfortunately, deteriorated along with his.”

“It’s sad.” Sally traced the edge of the damn note again, the motion drawing attention to the seemingly random action. “Illness like that takes a toll.”

A toll? Obviously. “Dying is a difficult thing. Nothing like the slow fading we see on TV.”

Sally continued that slow trace of the paper. “It’s also an expensive thing.”

“You can’t possibly think—”

“It’s exactly what I think.” The steady, even-keeled woman was nowhere in evidence as Sally stood to her full height, towering over her desk like an avenging cobra. “And you think it, too. You dare to come in here, convinced you can blackmail this company into giving you money for some concocted lie of immense proportions.”

“You can’t think that.”

“I can and I do. And I want you to pack your office immediately. Security will escort you there and off the premises.”

“But I—”

Sally pointedly ignored her, tapping on her phone to summon Marie. When the woman scrambled in, Sally didn’t even need to speak. Marie beat her to it. “Security will be here momentarily.”

“Excellent.” Sally shifted her attention once more, her gaze fully trained on Bellamy as she pointed toward the door. “Don’t expect a reference.”

Dazed, Bellamy stood and moved toward the exit. The meeting had been nothing like what she’d expected. Surreal at best, even as she had to admit it was fast becoming a nightmare.

Lone Star Pharmaceutical had been her professional home for more than thirteen years and in a matter of moments, that home had been reduced to nothing more than rubble and ash.

Chapter Two

Donovan glanced around the large, welcoming, airy living room of the main Colton ranch house as his mother settled two glasses of iced tea on the coffee table. She’d already bustled in with a tray of his favorites—cheese and crackers, a bowl of cashews and a tray of gooey Rice Krispies Treats—and had topped it off with her world famous sweet tea.

Perhaps that was a stretch, but she had brought her tea to every gathering ever held in Whisperwood. Someone had even asked him about it at work one day, rumors of his mother’s special recipe having reached as far as Austin. Donovan reached for his glass and took a sip, more than ready to admit every sugary drop deserved its near-reverent reputation.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She glanced down at Alex, her smile indulgent as she pet his head. “Glad you’re both here. Though to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Alex and I had a job that finished early. I thought I’d come over and visit before heading back to Austin.”

“I’m glad you did. Our last dinner ended too early. And I—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Memories of his last dinner with his family still stuck in his gut and Donovan avoided thinking about it. He loved them—he always had—but he couldn’t be who they wanted him to be. And he’d long past stopped trying. Their definition of family was different from his and he’d spent a lifetime trying to reconcile that fact.

And was coming up damn short, truth be told.

He reached for a handful of cashews and ignored the guilt that poked beneath his ribs with pointy fingers. He was here, wasn’t he? That had to count for something.

Even if his presence was grudging at best.

“He’s so good.”

His mother’s words pulled Donovan from his musings and he glanced over to where she’d settled Alex’s head onto her lap, his gaze adoring as he stared up at her. “All this food and he hasn’t even looked at it.”

“Oh, he’s looking. Don’t let him fool you.”

“But he’s so good and doesn’t even attempt to make a play for anything. Remember Bugsy. That dog could find food if you wrapped it in plastic and buried it in the back of the pantry. He’d find a way to get to it, too.”

Unbidden, memories of the small, crafty mutt they’d had when Donovan was in high school filled his thoughts. Bugsy was a good dog—as friendly as he was tenacious—and his forays into the Colton pantry had become the stuff of family legend. “He didn’t miss much.”

“I always assumed all dogs were that way, but Alex is amazing. He hasn’t moved an inch.”

“He’s a formally trained police dog. It wouldn’t do to have him nosing into pockets at crime scenes or roaming through the pantry on home visits. He’s trained to sniff out bomb materials and illegal drugs.”

“Yes, he is. A dangerous job for a brave boy.” Her attention remained on the dog but Donovan was acutely aware the comment was meant for him.

“When the bad guys stop being bad guys, he can slow down.”

“I suppose so.” His mother patted Alex’s head. “But for the record, I am all for a dog being a dog. I did enjoy documenting some of Bugsy’s escapades.”

“There aren’t many like him.”

“Remember that Christmas he ate all the cookies? Oh boy, was that dog sick.”

Donovan remembered that holiday—along with the mess the dog vomited up in the barn later that morning—but true to form Bugsy had been back in business in no time. The wily dog raided the bacon and black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day, barely a week later.

“He was a character.”

The shift to a safe topic put them back on neutral ground and they fell silent again, his mother’s soft smile focused on Alex and the large black head snuggled in her lap. She might not be his biological mother, but Donovan had always known he’d gotten his love of animals from Josephine Colton. Her gentle nature and genuine pleasure with the furry or the feathered had always been a hallmark of her personality.

His mother had never met a stray she didn’t love or an animal she couldn’t whisper sweet nothings to. And since he’d been a stray himself, Donovan had innately understood the value in that personality trait.

“Dad keeping busy?”

“As much as the doctor allows. Your father is frustrated he can’t do the things he used to.”

“There’s no shame in asking for help.”

His mother sighed, trouble flashing in her warm brown eyes before she dropped her gaze back to Alex. “There is, apparently, when your name is Hays Colton.”

“He comes by that one honestly, don’t you think? In fact, I’d say he comes from a very long line of stubborn Coltons, starting with Uncle Joe and working his way down.”

The words were enough to vanquish the spot of trouble in her eyes and she smiled at that. “For someone who claims they can’t remember the names of so many aunts, uncles and cousins, you sure can pull them out readily enough when making a point.”

“The beauty of a large family.” An adopted one, Donovan added to himself. He’d managed to hold those words back this time. Coupled with the fact that he and his mother were having a cordial afternoon, Donovan figured he might actually get out of his childhood home without offending anyone or causing a fresh bout of tears.

Because, try as he might, there wasn’t any amount of love or extended family or years-old shared stories that could change one fundamental fact: Josephine and Hays Colton weren’t actually his parents.

And while Donovan would be eternally grateful for their care, their upbringing and their name, he’d never quite gotten past the circumstances that had put him in their barn one cold Christmas morning, abandoned and alone.

* * *

BELLAMY MARCHED THE return trip back to her office building from the human resources department. The walk had been long enough that she’d already worked her way through the first stage of grief—denial—and was fast barreling toward number two.

Anger.

How dare they? Or how dare she? Despite the reputation that had spread quickly about Sally Borne’s competence since her arrival at LSP, Bellamy still couldn’t get over the woman’s gall. Nor could she see past the horrifying thought that Sally thought she was somehow responsible for that awful note.

“Are you okay, Ms. Reeves?”

She turned at the sweet voice of Gus Sanger, doing his level best to keep up with her long strides through the above-ground corridors that connected the buildings.

“I’m fine.”

“I’ve known you a long time, young lady. You’re not fine. And that was no simple visit to HR.”

“It’s a private matter.”

“Meetings in HR usually are.” Gus tugged at his ear, but kept pace next to her now that they’d slowed a bit. “I’ve known you since you were small. Your parents’ store was a key stop for me every morning on my drive to LSP and more often than not, you’d find your way behind that counter, fixing me a coffee and a muffin. You’re a good girl, Bellamy Reeves, and whatever that private matter was about, you don’t deserve an escort off the grounds.”

The tears that had prickled the backs of her eyes intermittently since leaving Sally’s office spiked once more but she held them back. She’d cried enough tears for a lifetime the past six months and refused to shed the same emotion over a situation that she hadn’t caused, nor was she responsible for.

“Thanks, Gus.”

“I don’t care what HR says about me watching you like a common criminal. You go back to your office and take a few minutes to pack up. I’ll wait for you in the lobby. It’ll give me a chance to get some coffee.”

“But what if HR catches you? Won’t you get in trouble?”

Gus waved a hand. “If HR has a problem with me, they’re going to have to go through Sutton. He may have his moments, acting like a damn fool ladies’ man, but he and I went fishing in Whisperwood Creek when we were both seven years old. Been fishing there off and on ever since together. No one’s firing me.”

Bellamy smiled at the image—the grizzled Gus and the erudite Sutton Taylor, casting lines off the side of the creek. The “ladies’ man” comment was a bit bold, even for Gus, but Bellamy was hardly unaware of Taylor’s reputation.

“You’ve known each other a long time.”

“A lifetime. All it would take is a few words to him and we can fix this.”

“No, Gus.” She shook her head before gentling her tone at the sincere offer of help. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, but I need to take care of this myself.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll find a way to fix this. To fix it all.”

Gus nodded before using his badge to open the door to Bellamy’s building. “Okay, then. I’ll get my coffee and wait here. You take your time.”

“Thank you.”

A large staircase rose out of the lobby toward the second floor and Bellamy started up the stairs toward her office, another one of her daily concessions to health and wellness. The hallways were even emptier than when she’d left for Human Resources—had it really only been an hour?—and she passed a few pockets of conversation and could hear one of her colleagues talking in muted tones from inside his office.

What would they tell Andrew?

She liked her boss. They’d worked well since she’d been put on his team two years prior and she’d like to tell him in person what was going on. Share her side of the story. But he’d already departed a few weeks early for the holidays, taking his family on a long-planned trip to Hawaii.

The fleeting thought of texting him faded as she imagined what she’d even try to say.

Sorry to bother you on vacation. I just got fired because we’re tampering with the flu vaccine supply chain here at LSP.

No way.

Even if she did want to bother him, what would he do from four thousand miles away? What she needed to do was take stock and evaluate what had happened. Then she could decide the best course of action. She was a well-respected employee at LSP and a member of the community. She’d find a way through this.

Even if Sally’s comments at the end had taken a toll. Bellamy’s father’s accident and subsequent financial troubles weren’t exactly a secret. She’d even had to sell the family business—the long-standing corner store her father had opened in his twenties—to pay for his medical bills.

No matter how sympathetic or understanding people might have been, it wasn’t a far leap to think they’d believe Sally’s innuendo.

It’s sad.

Illness like that takes a toll.

It’s also an expensive thing.

Each miserable word had stamped itself in her mind and Bellamy was hard-pressed to see how she’d come out in the best light should Sally decide to spread those rumors.

On a resigned sigh, she reached for the box Gus had handed her before departing for his coffee. Thirteen years, and she was left with a brown box and the few items she could stow inside.

The photo of her parents out front of the store—one of her favorites—came off her credenza first, followed by her calendar, a silly glass elf she’d purchased a few years before and the small radio that was still playing Christmas songs. She added a personnel file she’d kept her records in, a handful of cards given from coworkers through the years and, last, a few copies of the email she’d printed for herself.

Although she suspected even the affable Gus would have to take back any files she attempted to remove from her desk, she did a quick sweep of her files to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.

And saw the framed photo of her sister, Maggie, she’d shoved in the bottom drawer. A dazzling smile reflected back at her, the remembered warmth there stabbing into Bellamy’s heart.

She missed her sister. Desperately. And far more than she probably should, even as she blamed Maggie for all that had gone wrong over the past five years.

Her sister’s abandonment had stung, but it was the cold shoulder Maggie had given her at their parents’ funerals that had hurt the most. When had her bright, beautiful, vibrant sister become such a cold witch?

The urge to toss the photo into the garbage, along with a few of the folders that held out-of-date information or pamphlets on some of their older drug introductions, was strong, but in the end familial loyalty won out and she shoved the frame facedown on top of the small pile of items in her cardboard box. If she was going to toss the picture, she could do it properly at home, not in a snit in what was soon to be someone else’s office.

Shaking off the personal reminder of her relationship with her sister, Bellamy finished placing the last few items in the box. The printouts of the email that had started it all were the last to go in and, on impulse, she took the printouts from the box and secured them in her purse. “At least I have something.”

The copy wasn’t much but it did have a time and date stamp on it, and if she were able to secure a legal representative who could subpoena the company’s electronic records, she might be able to prove the fact the email had been sent to her and was not a result of her own tampering.

With a hard tug on the closure of her purse, Bellamy stopped herself and fell into her chair.

Subpoena? Electronic records? Legal representation?

How had she gone from a fiercely loyal employee to someone ready to instigate legal action in a matter of minutes?

The vibration of her phone caught her moments before the ringer went off, her best friend Rae’s name and picture filling the screen. She toyed with not answering when the overwhelming urge to talk to someone who believed her struck hard.

“Hey there.”

“What’s wrong? You sound upset.”

Bellamy smiled despite the horrible weight that had pressed on her chest since leaving Sally Borne’s office. The quick response after a simple greeting was straight-up Rae and at that moment, Bellamy couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Well. Um.” The tears that had threatened on the walk back tightened her throat once more. “I’m packing my office.”

“What? Why?” The noise of the Whisperwood General Store echoed in the background, but nothing in the noise could dim Rae’s concern. “Who would do that? You’re one of their best employees.”

“As of a half hour ago, they began treating me like Enemy Number One.”

“What? Wait—” Rae broke off, the din in the background fading even as she hollered at someone to come help her at the counter. “Okay. I’m in my office. Talk to me.”

Bellamy laid it all out—the email, the walk to HR and the weird meeting, even Gus’s kindness in letting her have a few minutes.

“Gus’ll give Sutton Taylor what for. Why don’t you let him?”

“I need to process this. Something’s going on and the faster I figure out what it is, the faster I can get my job back.” If I even want it.

The thought was so foreign—and such a departure from who she’d been for the past thirteen years—Bellamy nearly repeated the words out loud.

Was it possible the damage of an afternoon could remove the goodwill of nearly a decade and a half?

“Who do you think did it?” Rae’s question interrupted the wending of Bellamy’s thoughts.

“I wish I knew. It’s dangerous, Rae. If it’s a joke it’s a horrific slander on the company. And if it’s true—” Bellamy stopped, barely able to finish the thought. “If it’s true, it’s a problem beyond measure. We serve the public good. We can’t take that good away from them, especially in flu season.”

“I’ve already had a few people in complaining about it. I’m tempted to drag on a surgical mask each morning before I open up.”

Rae would do it, too, Bellamy thought with a smile. That and a whole lot more, she had to admit.

“Look, Rae. I need you to keep this to yourself until I understand what’s going on.”

“Bell, come on, you have to tell someone.”

“I will. But. Well. Look, just don’t say anything, okay? Please promise me.”

The quiet was nearly deafening before she heard her friend acquiesce through the phone. “Okay. I’ll hold my tongue for now.”

“Thank you. Let me get my feet under me and I can figure out what comes next.”

“So long as it entails a visit to the police at some point.”

Since her thoughts hadn’t been too far from the same, Bellamy had to admit Rae had a point. “I’ll call you later. I need to finish packing up and get out of here. Even with Gus’s willingness to give me time, the dragon in HR is going to expect me off the grounds.”

“Okay. Call me later.”

They hung up with a promise to do a good raging girls’ night, complete with margaritas and a gallon of ice cream. It couldn’t erase her day, but as promises went it was certainly something to look forward to.

Bellamy glanced down at her box, her meager possessions all she had as evidence of her time at Lone Star Pharmaceutical.

Securing the lid, she took a deep breath and pulled her purse over her arm.

She’d already lived through the loss of her family, both through death and through abandonment. She would survive this.

Resolved, Bellamy picked up the box and walked out of her office. She refused to look back.

* * *

THE MID-DECEMBER AFTERNOON light was fading as Bellamy trudged toward her car. She’d snagged a spot in the far back parking lot, beneath an old willow that she loved for its sun protection and the added benefit of more daily steps, to and from the front door. Now it just seemed like more punishment as she put one foot in front of the other, her box completing the professional walk of shame.

Thankfully, the parking lot was rather empty, the impending holiday and the general spirit of celebration and success at LSP pushing even more people than she’d expected to knock off early.

Gus had been kind when he met her in the lobby, his expression sorrowful as he took her badge and her corporate credit card. Sally Borne hadn’t shown up for the proceedings but her office lackey, Marie, had been there to take the badge and credit card before bustling off back where she’d come from.

It was unkind, but Bellamy hadn’t been able to dismiss the image of a small crab scuttling back to its sandy burrow the way the woman rushed off.

And then it had just been awkward with Gus, so she’d given him a quick kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, promising to visit with him in town at the annual tree lighting in the town square the following week. She’d already committed to Rae that she’d go and she’d be damned if she was going to hide in her home like the same crab she’d mentally accused Marie of being.

Shifting the box in her arms, Bellamy laid it on her rear bumper as she dug for her keys. After unlocking the car, then pressing the button for her trunk, she juggled the box into the gaping maw of her sedan, only to fumble it as she attempted to settle it with one hand while her other held her purse in place.

A steady stream of expletives fell from her lips when a brisk wind whipped up, catching the now-loose box lid and flinging it from the trunk.

“Damn it!”

The temptation to leave the lid to fly from one end of the parking lot to the other was great, but she dutifully trudged off to snag it where it drifted over the concrete. She might be persona non grata but she wouldn’t add litterbug to the litany of sudden crimes she’d apparently perpetrated against LSP. Nor would she put someone at risk of tripping on it inadvertently.

Box lid in hand, she crossed back to the car, dropping into the driver’s seat and turning on the ignition. The car caught for the briefest moment, then rumbled to life. She put her foot on the brake, about to shift into reverse, when her gaze caught on the rearview mirror and her still-open trunk.

Resigned, she opened the door once more and crossed back to the trunk. That damn cardboard box stared up at her, the lonely receptacle of her professional life and—finally—she let the tears she’d fought all afternoon fall.

Lost job. Lost family. Hell, even a holiday that was shaping up to be a lost cause. All of it seemed to conspire against her until all she could see or think or feel was an overwhelming sense of loss.

Frustrated, Bellamy stepped back and slammed the lid.

Instantly, a wall of heat flared up, consuming her before she felt her body lifted off the ground and thrown across the parking lot.

* * *

DONOVAN WAS MIDWAY down his parents’ stone-covered driveway when the call from Dispatch came in. He answered immediately, responding with his badge number and his location.

“We have a bomb called in at Lone Star Pharmaceutical. Your location indicates you’re closest to the site.”

LSP?

An image of the imposing corporate park on the edge of Whisperwood filled his thoughts, along with the pretty woman he’d met a million years ago who worked there. Who was bombing the town’s largest employer? And why?

“I am,” Donovan confirmed. “I can be to the site in three minutes. What are the known details?”

“LSP security called it in. Initial report says a car on fire and a woman shaky but standing.”

“She walked away from a car bomb?”

“Reports say she was outside it and tossed back by the blast.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Officer. Backup will meet you there.”

Donovan took a left out of his parents’ driveway instead of the right he’d planned. Flipping on his lights he headed out over the two-lane Farm to Market road that lead back into town and on toward the corporate headquarters that stood at the opposite edge of Whisperwood.

He’d already spent the morning with the town’s chief of police and now it looked like he’d spend his evening with him, as well. The town was big enough to keep a sizable force, but they had to tap into the Austin PD for specialties like bomb squad support. As LSP had grown along with the town, Donovan had often wondered why the local PD hadn’t been given more resources, but knew that wasn’t always an easy battle.

It was one that big companies readily fought when they preferred to employ their own security.

Perhaps that folly had come back to bite them?

By all accounts LSP’s owner was a local maverick who was as delighted to be a pillar of the community as he was to rub the town’s noses in it when he wanted to do things his way. Bold and daring, Sutton Taylor had favored the town he’d grown up in to set up his world-renowned pharmaceutical company.

Donovan turned onto Lone Star Boulevard, the well-paved road that ran in front of LSP’s headquarters. The scrub grass and occasional ruts that made up the drive across town vanished as he came onto LSP land.

The guards at the main entrance waved him through the gates before he’d barely flashed his badge and Donovan headed straight for the billowing smoke still evident at the back of the parking lot. Alex sat sentinel beside him, his body strung tight as a bow as he waited for his orders.

Even from a distance, Donovan could tell the scene was contained. Two LSP security vehicles were parked near the still-smoldering car and a crowd had gathered at the edge of the parking lot, obviously evacuated from the building. The security team seemed to have it under control, the individuals corralled far enough back to avoid any additional fallout from the wrecked car. With the destruction already wrought on the burning sedan, the car was the least likely source of any remaining danger.

Instead, he and Alex would go to work on the scattered vehicles still in the lot.

He parked, his already alert partner rising farther up on his seat. Within a few moments, he had Alex at his side, leashed and ready for duty. One of the security guards moved away from a huddled woman and walked toward him. The man was grizzled, his body stiff with age, but his clear blue eyes were bright and alert.

Sharp.

The man nodded. “Officer. I’m Gus Sanger. I’m in Security here at LSP.”

“Donovan Colton. This is Alex.” He motioned for Alex to sit beside him, the move designed to show his control over the animal yet ensure no one missed the dog’s imposing presence.

“You got here fast. K-9’s out of the Austin PD.”

“I was in Whisperwood on another assignment.” Donovan shook the proffered hand before pointing toward a pretty woman covered in soot. “Is she hurt?”

“Claims she isn’t. That’s Ms. Reeves. Bellamy Reeves. She’s banged up and has a few scratches on her elbows and a bigger gash on her arm the EMTs bandaged up, but I’d say lucky all in all.”

At the utterance of her name, Donovan stilled. Although he hoped it didn’t show to Sanger, Alex recognized it immediately, shifting against his side.

Bellamy Reeves? The same woman he’d spoken to so many years ago in the Whisperwood corner store...

“Do you mind if I go talk to her?”

Sanger nodded, his gaze dropping to Alex. “Does he go everywhere with you?”

“Everywhere.”

“Good.”

Donovan walked to the woman, taking her in as he went. She was turned, her gaze focused on her car, but he could make out her profile and basic build. Same long legs. Same sweep of dark hair. And when she finally turned, he saw those same alert gray eyes, that were mysterious and generous, all at the same time.

She was still pretty, even beneath a layer of dirt and grime from whatever happened to her car. Which he’d get to in a moment. First, he wanted to see to her.

“Ms. Reeves?”

She had her arms crossed, the bandage Gus mentioned evident on her forearm and her hands cradled against her ribs as if hugging herself. She was drawn in—scared, by his estimation—and doing her level best to hide it. “Officer?”

He ordered Alex to heel at his side, then extended his hand. “I’m Officer Colton. This is Alex. We’re here to help you.”

Whether it was the use of their names or the fading shock of the moment, her eyes widened. “You.”

“It’s me. How are you, Bellamy?”

Those pretty eyes widened, then dropped to Alex. “He’s so big. Just like I knew he would be.” She instinctively reached for Alex before pulling her hand back.

“You can pet him if you’d like. He’s not formally working yet.”

She bent, her gaze on Alex as her hands went to cup the Lab’s head and ears. Donovan didn’t miss how they trembled or what a calming effect Alex seemed to have on her as she petted that soft expanse of fur. “You grew just as big as I knew you would. But I hope you’ve learned some restraint around plastic toys.”

“Grudgingly.” Donovan smiled when she glanced back up at him, pleased that she’d remembered them. “We nearly had a repeat incident with a few Barbie high heels but I managed to recover them before he swallowed them.”

“He’s a little thief.”

“One who fortunately matured out of the impulse.”

She stood back upright but kept a slightly less shaky hand on Alex’s head. “You’re here because of this?”

“I was in town on another assignment today and hadn’t left yet. Are you okay?” The assignment was a bit of a stretch but somehow, saying he had to visit his mother or risk her wrath didn’t seem like the most comforting comment.

“I’m fine. Gus looked at me quickly and I don’t feel hurt other than the scrapes. Shaken and sort of wobbly, but nothing hurts too bad or feels broken.”

“How close were you to the car?”

“I’d gotten in and realized I hadn’t closed the trunk. I was behind the car when it just—” She broke off, the disbelief still clear in her eyes. “When it just exploded.”

“We’re going to take a look at it but first I need Alex to sniff the rest of the cars that are still here so we can get these people out of here. Can you wait for me?”

“Where else am I going to go?”

For reasons Donovan couldn’t explain, he sensed there was something more in her comment. Something that went well beyond a car bomb or the shaky aftereffects of surviving a crime.

Something terrible had taken the light out of her beautiful gray eyes.

And he was determined to find out why.

Chapter Three

Bellamy stood to the side and watched the chaos that had overtaken the parking lot. Several cop cars had arrived shortly after Donovan and Alex as well as two fire trucks and the EMTs. At one point she’d estimated half of Whisperwood’s law enforcement had found its way to LSP. The scene was well controlled and she’d been happy to see how the local police handled the press who were already sniffing around for a story. They were currently corralled on the far edge of the property, clamoring for whatever scraps they could get.

She’d ignored them, even as one had somehow secured her cell phone number and had already dialed her three times. It was probably only the start and she’d finally turned off the ringer. There would be time enough to deal with the fallout once she knew what she was actually dealing with.

And it might be to her advantage to have a working relationship with someone from the press if she needed to tell her side of the story.

If? Or when? a small voice inside prompted.

Sighing, she let her gaze wander back over the assembled crowd of law enforcement. Would they help her if she truly needed it? Or would they bow to whatever pressure LSP might put on them?

Like a bucket of errant Ping-Pong balls, the thoughts winged around in her mind, volleying for position and prominence.

She’d already taken the proffered water and over-the-counter pain meds from the EMT attendant and had finally begun to feel their effect. The pain in her arm had subsided to a dull throb and the headache that had accompanied her since the accident had begun to fade, as well. But the endless questions in her mind continued.

The EMTs had pressed repeatedly to take her to the hospital for additional observation but she’d finally managed to push them off after submitting to several rounds of “follow the light” as they looked into her eyes, searching for a possible concussion. It had only been Donovan’s input—and assurances that he’d keep a watch on her—that had finally quelled the discussion about removing her from the premises.

Not that she exactly wanted to stand around and watch her car smolder in a pile of burned-out metal. Or question who might have wanted to harm her enough to put it in that condition.

It had taken her quite a while to come up with that conclusion, but once she did the sentiment wouldn’t shake.

Someone had done this.

Cars didn’t just explode when the ignition turned over. And innocent people didn’t just get fired from jobs they were good at and loyal to.

So what was going on and what mess had she fallen into? And had she really left her home that very morning thinking it was just another day?

And how was it that Donovan Colton was the one who arrived to rescue her?

She’d thought of him intermittently over the past five years. Most of the time it was a good memory—a sweet, flirty interlude with an attractive man. But there were other moments—when the memory stung and instead of leaving her with a smile it left her with a strange ache. The painful reminder of what she’d lost that night that went beyond a lost date.

Could things have been different?

In the end it hadn’t mattered. If she were honest with herself, it still didn’t. Her father was horribly injured that night and her life—all their lives—had irrevocably changed.

“Bellamy?” Gus shuffled up to her, his bright blue eyes hazed with concern. “You’ve been awfully quiet standing here all by yourself. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the emergency room?”

“I’m sure. I’m made of sturdier stuff.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” She glanced at the dissipating crowd. “Did they find any other bombs?”

“It doesn’t appear so. The damage from this hooligan seems confined to your car.”

Hooligan?

While she had no wish to alarm an old man—and she suspected his use of the word was meant to comfort—the casual term wasn’t nearly the correct one for what had happened to her. This wasn’t a prank. Or a sick joke. Someone had attempted to kill her. And the sooner she got off of LSP property, the better she’d feel.

“Will I be allowed to go home soon?”

“I overheard Officer Colton talking with the chief. You should be able to get out of here right soon.”

“Thanks.”

Since her purse had been on her arm when she’d gotten out of the car to close the trunk, she still had many of her personal items. Best of all, she’d been pleased to find her cell phone undamaged where she’d had it zipped in a side pocket. The purse was ripped and headed for the trash but the fact it protected the rest of her personal items was the only saving grace of the evening. Especially seeing as how the car and her small box of memories were destroyed.

“Ms. Reeves?”

Donovan Colton took a commanding spot beside her and Gus, Alex immediately sitting at his side. There was something comforting about the presence of both of them and Bellamy felt a small bit of the stress and strain of the day ebb. “Yes.”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions but perhaps you’d prefer to answer them after you’ve had a chance to clean up. Or maybe eat?”

“You can decide that? I mean, I can leave here.”

The edges of his eyes crinkled in a small smile before he nodded. “I think I’m allowed to take you to a more comfortable place and out of the increasing cold. It may be Texas, but it’s still December.”

She had gotten chilled, the air growing cool once the sun set. “I didn’t have lunch and now that you mention it, I am hungry.”

“Why don’t we leave, then?” Donovan turned to Gus and shook his hand. “You and your team have been incredibly helpful here. Thank you for keeping everyone at the edges and not allowing anyone else to leave until we had a chance to check their cars.”

Gus stood taller, his chest puffing just like the dog’s. “Of course.”

“I’ll see that Ms. Reeves is escorted home now. I’ll be back tomorrow to finish a review of the site with the chief.”

“We’ll be waiting for you.”

Now that she’d given her agreement to leave, there was little keeping her and Donovan on the property. In a matter of moments, he had her in his SUV and was driving them toward the exit on the back side of the property, in the opposite direction from the press. She wasn’t sure if the strategy would work, but refused to turn around to find out.

“I’m sorry for the dog hair. Alex usually sits on the front seat.”

A strained giggle crawled up her throat, at odds with the exhaustion that racked her shoulders the moment she sat down. “I think a few stray dog hairs are the least of my worries right now. And since I don’t mind them on a good day, it’s no bother.”

“Are you warm enough?” The heater was on full blast, rapidly warming the car as they drove toward the center of town.

“I’m getting there.” As days went, December in central Texas was often mild bordering on warm. She was rarely cold, but since being tossed from the car she’d had a weird, aching numbness that had settled in her bones and refused to let go.

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