The Coltons of Red Ridge

A cop and his false fiancée track a serial killer

A Coltons of Red Ridge story...

After yet another groom-to-be is murdered in Red Ridge, K-9 cop Finn Colton comes up with a plan. He’ll fake an engagement to Darby Gage—to bait a criminal and investigate his suspect “fiancée.” But after brutal attempts on both their lives, Finn worries that he’s endangered the woman he’s falling for. Can he protect Darby and convince her to make their engagement real?

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).

Also available by Addison Fox

Cold Case Colton

Colton’s Surprise Heir

Silken Threats

Tempting Target

The Professional

The Royal Spy’s Redemption

The Paris Assignment

The London Deception

The Rome Affair

The Manhattan Encounter

Secret Agent Boyfriend

Colton K-9 Cop

Visit millsandboon.co.uk for more information

Colton’s Deadly Engagement

Addison Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07860-3

COLTON’S DEADLY ENGAGEMENT

© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

MILLS & BOON

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For Aunt Bonnie

Godmother. Aunt. Friend. Cheerleader. You’ve always been that to me and so much more.

But would I be me if I didn’t memorialize our oldest joke in your dedication?

Bonnie really IS a nickname for Angela. (Even if my 1st grade teacher still believes I’m wrong!)

I love you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Author Bio

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter 1

Cold air pierced Finn Colton’s lungs as he ran hell-for-leather beside his faithful and loyal partner, Lotte. Although she was trained specifically for attacking and guarding her quarry, the German shepherd was a mighty fine tracker and Finn followed in her wake as she pounded over the hills and valleys of Red Ridge, South Dakota.

In February.

Damn, it was cold.

As soon as the thought registered, Finn pushed it aside as he pressed on toward the fleeing figure about seventy-five yards ahead, weaving in and out of shadow. Was it possible they were this close to the suspect dubbed the “Groom Killer”?

Although he’d put little stock in the sensational and lurid depiction the local press had been dreaming up for nearly a month, he would cop to concern over the safety of his town. A police chief’s duty was to his people and that was a mighty challenging job when everyone he spoke to admitted to walking around in fear.

Tonight’s discovery of a second dead groom was going to turn subtle unease to full-on terror.

Lotte’s bark pulled him from his dismal thoughts as she put on another burst of speed, leaping forward into the night. Finn ignored the cold air and kicked it up a notch, digging deep for the stamina to keep moving.

In an apparent burst of speed of his—or her—own, their quarry put on the juice and zagged out of view. Finn kept going, trailing Lotte so close he could feel her tail slapping against his thigh, but in moments it was clear they’d lost the trail.

Lotte whined as she slowed, running in a circle as she fought to pick up a fresh scent on the ground before letting out a sharp cry.

The distinct odor of bleach, especially piercing in the bitter cold, hit his nostrils as he narrowed the distance to his partner. He came to a solid halt and bent to settle his hands on his knees. He quickly stepped back, ordering Lotte with him, out of range of the harsh scent.

Years of consistent training and the deep love and affection they’d built had her backing up immediately and she moved to his side.

“We were set up, girl. That bleach was laid down only a little while ago. Bastard wasn’t running from us. He was running to his own version of the finish line.”

Finn cursed again and stood to his full height, willing his other senses into action as he searched the darkened night. A wash of stars lit up the sky, made even brighter by the thick halo of a nearly full moon, but revealed nothing. Whomever they’d chased was gone and the night held no clue as to where.

He toyed with following, anyway, heading in the last direction he’d seen his quarry, but knew it was a lost cause. If the killer was smart enough to put down the bleach in advance, he or she was smart enough to change direction once out of sight.

Lotte edged toward the chemical, backing away when the scent hit her nose once more.

“Clever,” he muttered. And dangerous, he added to himself. Very dangerous if the killer had enough sense to prepare like that.

Red Ridge’s K-9 unit was famous across the state and even farther on than the boundaries of the Black Hills and the South Dakota border. The killer would have known they’d use every resource at their disposal, including well-trained K-9 dogs who needed relatively little scent input to hunt their quarry.

He patted Lotte’s head, burying his fingers into the thick pelt of her fur. She was lean and fit, but winter had brought her thicker fur and he loved the way his palm seemed to sink into the warmth. She was a beauty and he scratched behind her ears as he praised her, reassuring her of her successful tracking even if the perp did get away. Finn Colton loved his sweet girl and he always made sure she knew she was appreciated and important.

He also talked to her like a partner. While he harbored no delusion she understood the differences in the gauge sizes of guns or the headache of late-night paperwork, she understood her role in their partnership and always sat and listened, staring up at him with large, soulful eyes. They shared an amazing bond and he never took her or her training for granted.

His wealthy uncle, Fenwick Colton, had seen to it that his investment in the unit and its cofunded training center—one of the largest in South Dakota—was well publicized. His uncle was an old bastard, Finn thought, but a crafty one. Man could get three dollars out of one and was always looking for an angle. If there was an opportunity to put Colton Energy in the paper, on TV or splashed all over the internet, he leaped at the chance.

The K-9 unit and training facility had given Fenwick that and more. Not only did they receive more than their fair share of local news coverage and even the occasional spate of national attention, but the unit had been a tribute to Fenwick’s late first wife. Dubbed “the only one he ever loved” by Fenwick’s own admission, he’d continued the funding long after he’d assuaged his grief with a string of generously endowed younger women.

The training center was one of the few reasons Finn tolerated his uncle. While his appreciation had a solid core of selfish motivation for the continued support of his precinct, a small corner of his heart liked the fact that Fenwick might have been a decent human being once upon a time.

Since he’d gotten Lotte as well as his entire department from the deal, Finn could hardly complain. But it did mean his uncle came calling a bit too often at police headquarters. His recent rant over the need to catch the Groom Killer had been a world-class tirade.

The fact that his uncle believed it was his niece and Finn’s cousin Demi Colton who was responsible, had added an uncomfortable edge to the proceedings. He knew how to deal with his uncle—he wasn’t a man who backed down easily before anyone—but the determined rant that Demi had gone so far off the edge she’d started killing men was a tough pill to swallow.

If asked, Finn would have said it was ludicrous. But after finding her necklace at the first crime scene and her name drawn in blood beside the body, he could hardly ignore what was in front of his face. Given her strong motive—she’d been engaged to Bo Gage before he’d dumped her for another woman he’d quickly proposed to—and the circumstantial evidence, Demi was their prime suspect. Yet the man who’d known her since she was an infant wanted to believe in her innocence.

The police chief had to work every angle, run down every lead and needed a great deal of objectivity. Especially with Demi on the run and seeming uncomfortably guilty when he’d questioned her after Bo Gage’s murder.

With their race toward answers lost, he gestured Lotte to follow him. It was time to head back to review the crime scene they’d abandoned—a celebration turned tragedy—to chase a murderer.

He still saw it in his mind—had already begun the mental walk through the details of the crime. The second groom lay outside the back door of the kitchen at the Circle T Steakhouse. The man had been murdered in the midst of his rehearsal dinner, his body discovered only when one of the line chefs had run outside for a quick break. The man’s scream had been heard all the way inside the restaurant and it had taken the foresight of the head chef to keep everyone away from the body. There was no way anyone could have helped Michael Hayden, even had they tried.

Not with a bullet hole seared clear through his heart and a black cummerbund shoved deep into his mouth.

* * *

Darby Gage patted the cushion beside her and tried to coax Penny onto the couch. Darby had lived in the same house with the stubborn female for the past two weeks and had been unsuccessful in getting Penny to share any common space. She refused to share the couch, the bed or even a small chaise longue on the back porch.

Since it was February in South Dakota, the chaise experiment hadn’t lasted long—it was too damn cold to sit waiting for a stubborn dog to join her on the rattan recliner—and Darby had taken some small measure of pride in the fact that she’d tried.

But enough was enough.

The German shepherd was the crown jewel in the dismal inheritance from her ex-husband and it was high time they came to some sort of grudging truce. Bo wasn’t coming back courtesy of the bullet in his chest and Darby was in charge now.

Which seemed to have no impact on Penny. None whatsoever. Nor had it stopped striking Darby with that strange combination of surprise and sadness.

Bo was really gone. And the manner of his death...

She still shuddered when she thought about how he’d been discovered, shot and left for dead, a tuxedo cummerbund shoved into his mouth. It was dark and macabre. She’d tried to avoid thinking about it, but that was difficult when you considered how the Red Ridge Gazette had run with a new story every day, each one more lurid than the last. Everything from Groom Killer on the Loose to Is the Groom Killer One of Red Ridge’s Own? had graced the paper’s headlines. More than that, it was as if a fever had gripped the town and no one could stop talking about it.

Was it a local like Demi Colton? The press had picked up on her as their favorite suspect and had been writing story after story on her background and her brief engagement to Bo before he’d dumped her for his new intended bride, Hayley Patton. Although she supposed anything was possible, as Bo’s former wife Darby could hardly understand a woman committing a crime of passion over the man.

He was good-looking in his own way, but she’d learned too quickly that he’d also used those good looks to coast by in life. He’d carried little responsibility, preferring to dump his troubles on others. And other than his dogs, there was little he’d seemed to truly care about.

In the end, it had been his cheating that had killed their marriage. She’d come to realize that even had he been faithful, theirs wasn’t a union that would have lasted. It had taken a while, but Darby had finally reached the point where she could accept that without the immense guilt that had initially accompanied the thought.

Which made her current circumstances all the more puzzling.

While she and Bo had ended things amicably enough two years ago, why had her ex seen fit to leave her his German shepherd breeding business? She knew and loved dogs—and she spent more than a few hours of each work week at the K-9 training center making a few extra dollars—but that didn’t make her a fit breeder. Neither had her fourteen-month marriage to Bo. He was a responsible breeder—he loved his dogs and he took good care of them—but she hadn’t involved herself in the business during their marriage.

Yet here she was. The new owner of Red Ridge’s premier breeding business for the town and the county’s K-9 units. They sold to assorted others besides the RRPD, but had a reputation to uphold with one of the state’s primary K-9 departments.

The PD down in Spearfish had attempted a K-9 unit of their own a few years back and had trained a few of Penny’s puppies. The cost of keeping the program had grown too much and they’d ultimately sold the dogs to a good security firm known for its excellent treatment and handling of their dogs.

Bo’s other customers, the Larson brothers, were also good for a few puppies in each litter. A fact that settled uncomfortably on her shoulders. It was unfair of her—they doted on their dogs and treated them well—yet something creeped her out about the way the twins, Noel and Evan Larson, strutted around Red Ridge like they owned the town and everyone in it. They’d been raised by their kindly grandmother, Mae, after losing their parents, and Darby knew she should cut them a break.

But she never liked when the Larson boys came around.

Penny’s light yip startled her and pulled Darby from her thoughts. The pretty German shepherd had dropped down to her belly, head on her front paws, and was even now staring at Darby.

“You don’t like the Larsons, either, do you?”

Penny’s dark eyes seemed to bore into hers. Even as she knew it was a silly thought, Darby could have sworn the dog agreed with her.

“You really can sit next to me. I won’t bite and I’d like to get to know you better.”

Penny’s gaze never wavered as she considered her from her spot across the rug. The couch wasn’t that comfortable, but Darby had to believe the threadbare carpet was even less so. She was still adjusting to her surroundings. She’d moved her few possessions in from the one-bedroom apartment she’d rented in town and the addition barely made a dent in Bo’s small house.

It was so odd to be back in the house. Their marriage had been brief but she’d made some improvements when she’d lived here with Bo. She’d freshened up the curtains and had insisted they paint the living room and kitchen to brighten things up. Now those improvements simply looked garish, like the rest of the house had aged around them, an old woman wearing her years despite the heavy makeup she used to try to hide the lines.

Since the house was hers, she’d like to make a few changes, but the inheritance hadn’t come without its challenges. One of which was a stifling mortgage that Bo had overextended himself on and a mountain of debt for the breeding business. She’d spent the past two weeks trying to get her arms wrapped around it all and was still puzzled by just how far into debt her ex-husband had gone. She didn’t think he was in that deep when they were married, but in the end, who really knew.

All she knew now was that she had a hill of debt and very few options.

She was also worried about Penny. The dog had kept her distance but Darby wasn’t blind to Penny’s increasing age. She was the conduit to more puppies though Darby had real reservations about attempting to breed her again.

Which only made the problems she had since the reading of Bo’s will grow even bigger.

Why had he chosen her? Was it punishment for a marriage gone bad instead of a gift?

Or was there something else at play?

Hayley Patton was his fiancée, yet she’d gotten nothing of his except the car they’d leased together and the rings they’d purchased in preparation for the wedding. She was flashing a mighty large rock on her left hand but Darby had no idea how Bo had paid for it. She could only be grateful the bill hadn’t showed up on her list of debts on the property.

Whatever else he was, Bo Gage hadn’t been a saver or a money manager. And now it was up to her to clean up his mess.

Lost in her thoughts, she was surprised to feel the heavy sway of the couch frame when Penny leaped up. The dog still kept her distance, curling at the opposite end of the three-cushion couch, but Darby smiled anyway.

Maybe they might figure their way out of this, after all.

* * *

Finn dropped into his desk chair and glanced at his watch: 4:00 a.m. It had taken them that long to secure the scene, interview the witnesses and take as much detail from the Circle T’s property as they could. Only after they’d done that had they been able to move Michael Hayden’s body.

The guy had snuck out the back of the kitchen to grab a smoke, his fiancée’s legendary distaste for the practice sending him skulking out a rear exit to escape the rehearsal dinner festivities unnoticed.

Only someone had noticed.

They’d shot him.

Finn reviewed his notes, typing them into his report to ensure his thoughts were as fresh as possible. What he avoided including was the observation that sneaking cigarettes at your rehearsal dinner because your soon-to-be wife hated the practice likely wasn’t the most auspicious start to happily-ever-after.

Not that he was exactly an expert.

His own marriage had crashed and burned in a fiery pile of ash after his ex-wife had grown fed up with his hours and the danger of his job. Mary was a good woman and he’d heard through the grapevine that she was remarrying. She’d left Red Ridge after their divorce, picking up work in Spearfish, about thirty miles away, as a digital designer for a local firm. He was happy that she had moved on with her life and wanted nothing but good things for her.

The fact that he’d felt nothing—not even the slightest tug—when he’d heard the news bothered him more than he could say. Wasn’t a man supposed to be jealous if his ex moved on? Even a little bit? Yet here he was, content and maybe even a little relieved that she’d picked up her life and found someone new. He’d never worried much about his reputation as a cold, work-focused leader, but maybe it was time he started.

After, he promised himself. He’d worry about it all after he got through these reports and the inquiries and found out just who was killing men in his town.

The report practically wrote itself. The men and women on his team were well trained and good at their jobs. Between their notes and work, as well as his own, he was able to paint a quick, succinct picture of the crime and Michael Hayden’s unpleasant death.

Shutting down his laptop, he caught sight of a note scribbled by Carson Gage and left in the small wooden box he kept on the corner of his desk.

Carson was one of his best detectives on the force and the brother of the first victim, Bo Gage. Finn picked up the note, curious to see what, if any, details Carson had added to his already-robust case file.

Unsuccessful visit to Darby Gage. Persists in saying she had no idea why Bo left her the business and the house. Has alibi for Bo’s murder but could have someone covering for her?

Despite the personal connection with his brother, Carson had been invaluable on the case. But that last question didn’t sit well with Finn. He knew Carson had worked long and hard to find justice for his brother, but it wasn’t like him—or anyone on Finn’s team—to question a person’s alibi simply for the sake of wrapping up a case and pinning a crime on a convenient suspect.

Was there something behind Carson’s concern? Or was he so frustrated by the lack of leads that he’d begun grasping at straws?

Yes, it was suspicious that Bo had left his business to his ex-wife. But Finn had known Bo Gage and the man hadn’t been the most responsible soul. It could be as simple as the fact that Bo had never had his will changed after his divorce.

Or there could be something else there.

He made a quick note to himself to go talk to Darby Gage. He’d spoken with her a few weeks before when suspicion had first landed on Bo Gage’s ex-wife and hadn’t come to any conclusions. Nevertheless, if something about the woman was nagging at Carson, then Finn would talk to her again.