The Colton Marine. Lisa Childs
at how she’d screamed when she’d first seen him. He’d probably thought it was because of the scars and the patch. But it was because he was so big and muscular and handsome despite the scars. Her pulse had continued to race, even after she’d recognized him. The news mentioned him often when reporting about his missing mother. He was the Marine who’d just recently returned—wounded—from his last deployment.
The media speculated that he must have been involved in an explosion of some kind. Nobody had confirmed that speculation, though. The government wasn’t talking and neither was River Colton. But it was clear he’d been hurt. The scars on his face were still healing. And his right eye...
It was gone.
So it couldn’t have been River whom she’d seen at the bottom of the steps when she’d first opened the door to the basement. Edith had seen a pair of eyes, both glinting in the darkness.
Hadn’t she?
Or had she imagined it all like Mama used to imagine things—like Papa, long after he’d died?
Edith didn’t believe in ghosts. Whatever her mother had seen hadn’t been real.
What about what she’d seen?
What the hell had it been?
Despite the couple of lightbulbs that burned now in the basement corridor, the shadows were thick yet and still too dark to determine what each was. Edith wasn’t going to try to figure it out at the moment. She’d found what she’d been looking for in the basement—the electrical panel.
Since she’d flipped the breakers, she had no reason to return to the utility room, where River had told her to wait for him. She had no reason to linger in the basement at all. She headed toward the stairs leading back up to the kitchen.
River Colton could find her when he was done searching the cellar. Edith was not going to try to find him. She shuddered as she remembered how a hapless female character always found her boyfriend in the horror movie—bludgeoned or chopped up or...
Not that River was her boyfriend.
Nobody was her boyfriend. She hadn’t had one for a while. She didn’t have any time for dating. She was too busy with her job. And from what she’d seen of the house in the dark, she knew she was going to be even busier getting this place ready for her boss.
As she headed up the steps, she noticed the door at the top was closed. River must have shut it behind himself when he’d come down to investigate after hearing her scream. She wished he had left it open; then she would be able to see if any lights had come on upstairs when she’d flipped all the breakers.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach at the thought of moving again through that mess of a mansion with only the faint light of her phone. She peered beneath the door but could see only darkness.
The lamp she’d plugged in must not have cast a glow wide enough to be seen in the kitchen. And none of the lights in the kitchen must have come on. She glanced down at her phone. Fortunately, the battery had enough charge left that she wouldn’t lose that light. But she probably should have waited until morning to come out to La Bonne Vie.
She would have—had her uncle been home when she’d stopped by his ranch. But when she’d seen his truck was gone, she had driven over here. It was just next door. So she’d thought she might as well check to see if the power had been turned on as she’d requested.
She should have waited until morning, though. Then she wouldn’t feel as though she’d stepped into one of those movies she had watched so often as a kid, trying to act tough in front of the others in her foster home. She hadn’t just been acting, though.
She was tough. And independent and brave, she reminded herself as she reached for the handle of the door. But before she could close her fingers around the knob, it turned and the door opened.
A dark shadow loomed in the doorway above her. There was a light burning in the house behind him, but the dim glow only cast his face more in shadows as his wide shoulders filled the doorway.
Remembering River’s advice to use the pepper spray next time, she fumbled with the canister, but it slipped through her grasp and tumbled down the steps. Then she lost her footing, as well. Arms swinging, she began to fall backward just as that shadow reached toward her.
She must have screamed herself out earlier because even though she opened her mouth, no sound emanated from her hoarse throat. She could only gasp as she fell.
From the bottom of the stairs, River saw it happening—saw her falling. He saw the dark shadow at the top of the stairs, saw it reaching for her. Or pushing her?
He rushed forward, but before he could catch her, the woman’s hand closed around the railing and she steadied herself. But he wrapped his arm around her small waist and pulled her aside, stepping between her and that threatening shadow.
She clutched at him as she tried to find her footing on the steps again. She wasn’t going to fall, though. He had her in his one arm while he swung his other toward that shadow.
Just before his fist connected, the other man stepped into the light. And River jerked his arm back, exclaiming, “Mac! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Mac replied. “That damn horse came back without you. I thought it threw you. That you might be hurt.” His dark gaze skimmed over River. “But you look fine. What are you doing here?”
“I was out riding—”
“Not you,” Mac said. He gestured behind River. “What are you doing here, Edith? When I was looking for him, I noticed your car parked out front by the fountain.”
The woman tugged free of River’s grip and leaned around him. “Hi, Uncle Mac.”
And now River realized why she looked so familiar. He’d seen pictures of her in Mac’s house. Of course, she’d been younger then—much younger. Just a little girl with thick braids and her front teeth missing. She’d certainly grown up since those old photos.
She must have been at Thorne’s wedding, though, since they were cousins. River had made himself scarce at the ceremony. He hadn’t stood in the receiving line, and he’d skipped the reception. He hadn’t wanted to draw any attention away from the bride and groom. And since he’d been back, people tended to stare at him. And ask intrusive questions about what had happened.
He didn’t want to think about what had happened, let alone talk about it.
“What are you doing here?” Mac asked his niece again.
“I—I stopped by the ranch earlier,” Edith replied. “But you weren’t there.”
“I was out with Evelyn,” Mac said. “But that doesn’t answer my question. What are you doing here—at La Bonne Vie?”
“You don’t know?” River asked. He knew Mac wasn’t particularly close to his niece; he had lost touch with her for years and felt bad about it. But River thought they’d reconnected during those ten years he’d been gone. Mac had written about her in some of the letters he’d sent River.
“No,” Mac said, and a muscle twitched along his tightly clenched jaw. “Edith, what are you doing here?”
“I told you I’m moving out of New Orleans, that I’m moving to Texas.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But you didn’t tell me you were going to move here, to La Bonne Vie.”
She shook her head, and her long hair bounced around her bare shoulders. She stood so close to River on the stairs that a few tendrils brushed across his cheek. It was so soft—so silky. “I’m not going to stay here. Not for long, anyway, just until...”
“Until what?” Mac asked. “What business do you have with La Bonne