Colton First Responder (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 4) Page 6

  Good thing he didn’t need someplace else to live. In any event, if that group truly helped people in need around here, more power to them.

  There. He had reached another chain discount store where he should be able to find all the supplies he intended to buy. It appeared fine, and open. He went inside and grabbed a cart, glad he didn’t see anyone he knew as he started picking up a lot of basic stuff that most people, especially the Coltons, were likely to already have around their houses.

  If anyone asked, he would claim that the earthquake was his rationale, since, although he knew his family ranch was fine, who knew when all the basic supplies would be available around here again?

  So...he tossed into his cart cleaning supplies, paper towels, batteries, a couple of additional flashlights—the size of his and not Savannah’s—and a lot more.

  However, he’d thought this place also carried basic food items like bread, but it didn’t.

  When he got into the checkout line, one of half a dozen in a row, all with signs indicating they were open, he thought he recognized the clerk, darn it. And even if the man hadn’t recognized him, Grayson had stuck a credit card in the reader, so of course his name appeared.

  “Oh, hello, Mr. Colton,” the guy, a senior with white hair and a beard, said. “Did you find everything you were looking for?” He looked curious yet friendly.

  Grayson decided not to mention the food. There was a store he would pass later that would be better for those kinds of provisions anyway.

  Instead, he offered a bland explanation of sorts. “We’re probably just fine, but I wanted to make sure we’ve got the basics at the ranch—especially since I’d imagine your headquarters’ ability to deliver more to this store could have been affected by the quake.”

  “Could be, but I think we’re fine. Anyway, come back anytime if you need anything else. We’ll do all we can to accommodate you, of course.”

  “Thanks,” Grayson said, not surprised by the guy’s attitude. Grayson was a Colton, even if he maintained a distance from his family. But strangers wouldn’t know that. And it might not matter anyway. The Coltons had power.

  And they, and even he, had money, thanks to Colton Oil.

  The clerk stuffed everything into three large plastic bags.

  Fortunately, the store that was his next goal was only another block away. He just hoped it was undamaged and open, too.

  Which it was. It sold tech, including computers and telephones—and of course the latter was Grayson’s target. He was able to purchase a disposable one—a burner phone—without anyone asking questions. Although the woman who waited on him commented he wasn’t the only person seeking this kind of phone today, since so many people had apparently lost their phones and technical connections in the quake that they’d come here to buy temporary phones till they figured out what to do next.

  He simply nodded and put on a sad face, telling her, “That sounds familiar.” He had enough cash with him so he did not have to provide a credit card here. He was glad he so seldom came to this part of town that no one in this store, at least, recognized him. Plus, he bought a battery-operated charger and extra batteries. He wanted to make certain the phone had plenty of time and power connected to it so Savannah would be able to use it for a while anonymously.

  And when she couldn’t use it any longer? Well, it wasn’t really his concern, but he was concerned. He would just have to see where things stood then—and whether he would feel committed to acquire another of these important devices for her.

  He walked back to his office building as quickly as he could, again relieved that he didn’t see anyone he knew. When he arrived, he immediately went around back to the parking lot to place his purchases in the trunk before going back inside to check in with his staff again.

  “I’m just going to do some looking around to see if there are any others, government agencies or otherwise, who need our help today,” he told Pedro, the first of his gang that he saw in the reception area.

  Then he got into his car and drove first to the nearby grocery store, where he would stock up even more on basics, then head toward the fishing cabin where he had last seen Savannah. Would she still be there?

  * * *

  As she’d anticipated, Savannah had spent the morning pondering what she could, what she should, do to get her out of this fix and find the men she needed to resolve it.

  She focused on her need to find Zane and turn him over to the police. The real question, then, remained how she would be able to do that. Surely his anger at her wanting to be rid of him because of his lies and infidelities wouldn’t keep him away from his former, normal life forever. Though his faking his death with the idea of getting her thrown permanently in prison... well, she didn’t know how he intended to return and deal with that.

  Or could he get people to continue to run his business for him here and give him access to its proceeds?

  She eventually stood up, figuring she wasn’t getting anywhere just sitting at the table. Now she was walking around outside the house for the second time.

  Looking into the surrounding woods, enjoying occasional views of birds and the tree branches waving in the wind, inhaling the scent of the outdoors, and paying attention to her footing, hoping there wouldn’t be any further earth movement that day.

  Most important, she was thinking and trying to come up with different methods, different angles to get out of the mess she was in.

  Attempting to dive into Zane’s mind, despite his not being here, despite his being out of her life—at least as her husband.

  Zane had run an investment bank and liked using social media and tech in many aspects of his life. He’d surrounded them with various security devices in their home, which at that time had helped to make her feel protected.

  Yeah, from everyone but Zane.

  Despite not being a techie, she believed she had a reasonably sharp mind. Sure, she was considered a socialite and didn’t have a genuine, well-paying career, but thanks to her family resources, and, more recently, Zane’s, she had spent her time learning about various charitable enterprises and participating in events where money was collected to help people in need.

  Unlike her.

  Before she’d been accused of murdering her husband, at least.

  What would come next for her? Freedom, she hoped. And plenty of time to determine what else she wanted to do with her future now that Zane would be out of her life—hopefully in prison instead of her, for his chilling attempt to scam the authorities and frame her.

  More charitable functions? Maybe, but if so she would get more involved, maybe even find a way to help manage one or more of them. She was unsure what her financial situation would be, of course, but it should be okay thanks to the money she had inherited from her grandparents that had supported her before, as well as her divorce settlement from Zane. She would deal with it, no matter what.

  And—well, oddly enough, she was very impressed with Grayson and what he did. Would she want to learn to become a first responder, too?

  She would definitely like to be able to save lives. She had always enjoyed helping people when she was helping to run charitable enterprises before. And now, she wished she’d been able to help Ari, no matter how indifferent he had been to her. And even if she hadn’t been shackled inside the van, she doubted if she could have done much more for him.

  Still...

  “Okay, time to go back inside,” she finally muttered to herself, watching a crow in the air above her spread its wings and soar off, uttering a caw as if agreeing with her.

  She entered the cabin again and locked the door behind her.

  Though she had hand-bathed several times, she really, really wanted a shower. She had already begun using a clean towel that she had found in the bathroom, and recognized she could make even better use of it. Plus, she had peeked into the shower stall and seen a substa
ntial bar of soap on a small shelf inside it.

  Now was a good time to start her new life, whatever it might wind up being. And she’d just as soon do it clean.

  At least, thanks to the bag she’d brought here, she had a change of clothes. So far, she hadn’t changed, but she looked forward to wearing something different from the outfit she still had on that now reminded her of her latest courthouse appearance—and all that had happened afterward.

  Of course, the other outfit looked very much like this one. And the shirt and slacks were a good reminder of her current freedom, which she hoped would now last forever.

  She went into the bathroom and rinsed off the bar of soap, although it already appeared clean enough to use.

  Then she stepped into the shower.

  Not for long, though. She only wanted a short shower. And she knew full well that, despite the water working, the power wasn’t turned on here, so it wasn’t a big surprise that the water never warmed up. The April Arizona air around here wasn’t extremely cold, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable. She soon turned off the water and dried herself.

  That was when she thought she heard a noise from somewhere inside the cabin.

  Oh, great. She hoped she was imagining it. And if she wasn’t—well, her next hope was that Grayson had returned.

  But what if it wasn’t him? She had figured out how to get inside through the window, and other people besides Grayson could undoubtedly do it, too—especially if they were looking for her and had reason to believe she was here.

  She needed to get out of there. Protect herself, no matter who it was.

  But here she only had a towel to keep herself covered.

  Had she been foolish again? Maybe she shouldn’t have showered. Or maybe she had just imagined the noise...and maybe not.

  What was she going to do?

  Well, she could at least confirm that someone was there—and that it was the person she had anticipated. Hoped for.

  Grayson.

  Wrapping the towel around herself, tucking the edges so it would stay wrapped—and also holding it—she opened the door just a crack.

  “Who’s there?” she called out. She still hoped her imagination was on overdrive and no one was there, but—

  “It’s me, Savannah. Grayson. I’m back.”

  Relief swept through her. “Since I know I locked the door, I assume you crawled through the window,” she said, feeling amused and embarrassed, too.

  “Yep. I’m getting to know my way around this place.”

  Savannah had opened the bathroom door wider at the confirmation of who was there—and her easy recognition of his deep voice. Sure enough, there he was, standing by that dratted table again, his back toward her clothes on the chair. He no longer wore the neon vest, and his long-sleeved T-shirt today was dark blue, the same shade as his jeans.

  He looked in her direction. Scanned her, with her towel, head to toe.

  She barely knew the guy, but somehow his warm, interested expression turned her on.

  That, combined with her happiness at realizing her visitor was the man she’d wanted to see again, caused her to dash toward him, smiling, arms open wide. “Welcome to my refuge—again—Grayson.”

  She threw her arms around him, and at the same time he grasped her and pulled her close.

  Good thing she had done a reasonable job of securing the towel around her beforehand.

  “Thanks, Savannah,” he responded. “Good to see you again, too.”

  And before she could stop herself, she reached up, brought his head down to hers, and gave him one hot, sexy kiss.

  Chapter 6

  What the heck was he doing?

  Kissing Savannah, of course. Or responding to her kissing him. And it felt wonderful. All over.

  Sure, Savannah looked damned beautiful in only a towel framing her slender body that nevertheless suggested lots of curves, which were confirmed by the feel of her in his arms.

  And, okay, she hadn’t been the only one wanting a hug. Or more. From the instant he had seen her that way, wrapped only in that towel, smiling welcomingly at him, her shorter blond hair wet and forming a halo around her gorgeous face, he certainly hadn’t objected to her grabbing him. And he had definitely grabbed her back. And joined in that amazing kiss.

  But right now, he ended it. Let his arms drop. Then he backed slightly away.

  She smiled but seemed to blush a little as she, too, stepped back and stood there looking at him. Or around him.

  Oh yeah. He’d seen some clothes stacked on one of the chairs he now stood in front of.

  “Hey,” he said, moving sideways, farther from the clothes. “Wait till you see all the supplies I brought for you. Maybe that kiss will be the first of many.” He was teasing, of course.

  But he pictured her pulling that towel away altogether. And then imagined what happened between them...

  Okay, he felt a real attraction to her. One that made a certain part of his body stand at attention, although his jeans were loose enough that he didn’t believe that was obvious.

  Or at least he hoped not.

  But that attraction was highly inappropriate. She was a woman in trouble. He was a man whose main purpose was to help people in trouble—not add to their problems.

  No matter how strong his urge to touch her beneath that damned towel.

  And besides...well, he had no intention of getting involved with her other than to help clear her name. He had no intention of getting involved with any woman, possibly ever again. Not after the miserable way his last romantic relationship had ended.

  “Thanks so much,” Savannah said, and he knew she referred to his comments about the supplies he’d brought, not his simmering thoughts about her. “Let me get dressed now, and we can go out to your car and bring it all in.” She walked a step toward the pile of clothes, then stopped. “Did you drive all the way here this time?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “No closures or major impairments along the way despite the destruction in other areas. Not to mention all the downed trees and poles. Of course the dirt road that ends right here had some lumps and moderate rises that were probably the result of the quake.”

  “But your car is here,” she said. She looked a bit pensive—another attractive expression on her pretty face.

  Was she thinking about where to ask him to drive her?

  But where could she go and remain safe, not grabbed by the law?

  And he definitely didn’t want to be seen helping her.

  He decided instead to tease her about it. “So, do you want to drive my car off somewhere? If I let you, I’d have to say it was stolen. And everyone would guess who stole it, probably, considering the fact that you’re the most likely flight risk around here at the moment.”

  “You’re right.” Her tone was so sad that he wondered if she was about to cry.

  “Hey, I was kidding. Sort of. No, right now I think you’re safer just hanging out here until we come up with some kind of plan to get you out of this mess.” He purposely stressed the “we” a bit, so she wouldn’t think that by bringing up her difficult situation, he was abandoning her.

  At least she couldn’t think he’d turned her over to the cops, since here he was, on his own, with stuff in his car to give to her.

  And as a first responder used to helping people in distress, that felt damned good with this woman who, right or wrong, he still believed to be innocent. Maybe it was because he hadn’t known anything particularly good about her husband, and couldn’t ignore her claim that Zane was still alive, framing her. Not until there was more evidence either way, at least.

  “I agree.” Her tone was strong now, her expression somehow fearless—and he wanted to take a few steps toward her on the cabin’s dingy wood floor and give her another hug.

  He didn’t.

  “I’ll go get
dressed,” she said. She maneuvered her way around him—almost, but not quite, touching his back with her own—and tugged her clothes off the chair.

  He hadn’t noticed before, but he saw some underwear peeking from beneath her shirt and slacks. It didn’t look particularly sexy. Whatever she had here now was probably the same thing she had worn in prison, utilitarian and bland.

  But just the hint of seeing it made him wonder what she would look like in something tiny, or without it...

  Enough of this, he told himself, turning his back toward the bathroom door after she disappeared behind it.

  He opened the cabin door and stepped outside. He stood there looking around and listening for a moment, just to be safe. He’d no reason to believe he was followed here, nor had he seen anyone else driving or walking around who might wind up here. But he wanted to remain safe—to have Savannah remain safe—so he needed to stay alert and cautious.

  He heard and saw nothing to warn him of any problems, so he continued to the rear of his SUV and opened it. He pulled out the nearest bags, paper ones filled with the food he had purchased at his third store before returning here.

  He had managed to find what he hoped would be enough to keep Savannah fed and healthy. Bread, yes, which had been his first thought, plus several different kinds of fruits and vegetables, which wouldn’t last forever unrefrigerated, but she surely would be eating some of it fairly fast since it was the only food she would have here. He had additionally brought some canned meat—Spam and tuna—as well as wrapped and sliced meat, so she could make sandwiches. Plus, he’d bought some more bottles of water for her...and a little wine, just to make their meal more enjoyable, perhaps, if he ate here with her at all. And the food was in addition to some other essentials, such as a first-aid kit, paper products and some cleaning supplies, although he hadn’t brought much of those this time.

  Still alert for sounds, he heard his own footsteps crunch a bit on the loose dirt and leaves on the path back to the front door. A couple of crows cawed, but he heard no other birds or wildlife making any sounds. No breeze, either; the trees were still and soundless.