Page 3 of Colton's Last Resort

The question nearly made him flinch. Rod didn’t know. No one did. Not really.

It didn’t matter, he told himself. He’d loved her, hadn’t he? He’d loved her as his own. “She doesn’t have parents,” he said. “Neither of us do.”

“I’m sorry.” Rod placed his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of her.”

“I know.” Noah turned for the door.

“Don’t get yourself in trouble over this,” Rod warned. “Let Fulton handle it. He’ll find out what happened to her.”

Noah didn’t answer. In seconds, he was out of the autopsy room, down the hall, crossing the lobby. Planting both hands on the glass door, he shoved it open.

Cold air hit him in the face and did nothing for the lethal ice now channeling through his blood.

He thought about stopping, doubling over, bracing his hands on his knees.

He could hear her. Still.

Breathe, Noah. Deep breath in. And let it out.

Noah shook his head firmly, blocking out her voice. He thought of what Rod had said—about the scene and his impressions of the people there.

He took out his keys, walking to the unmarked vehicle that was his. Opening the driver’s door, he got behind the wheel and cranked the engine. The sun was sinking swiftly toward the red rock mountains in the distance, but he picked up his phone. Using voice commands, he said, “Hey, Google, set a course for Mariposa Resort & Spa.”

He studied the GPS route that popped up on-screen before mounting the phone on the dash. Shifting into Reverse, he cupped the back of the passenger headrest. Turning his head over his shoulder, he backed out of the parking space.

To hell with staying out of Fulton’s way. Someone was responsible for Allison’s death. He would find out who.

And he was going to nail the Coltons’ asses to the floor.

Chapter 1

Ten Hours Earlier

“Dad wants to meet.”

Laura Colton stared at her brother over the rim of her thermos. “You couldn’t have let me finish my coffee before dropping that bombshell?”

Her brother Adam raised a brow as he eyed the overlarge bottle. “There are three cups of java in that thing. If that’s not enough to prepare you for the day, it’s time you rethink some of your life choices.”

“I demand coffee before chaos,” Laura informed him and took another hit to prove her point. She was no stranger to butting heads with her older brother. They worked closely as owners and managers of Arizona’s premier resort and spa.

It was their passion for Mariposa that made them lock horns. The resort wasn’t simply the business venture that supported them. Before it was Mariposa, it was the respite their mother had sought when the disappointment of her marriage to Clive Colton had grown to be too much. Laura and her siblings’ memories of Annabeth Colton were tied not just to the project she had started shortly after the birth of her third child, Joshua, but the land itself.

The three of them had buried her here at Mariposa after her battle with pancreatic cancer.

Laura loved Mariposa. It was more home than her actual hometown of Los Angeles had ever been. When Adam had asked her and Joshua to join him after he’d taken legal control of the resort at the age of twenty-one, neither of them had hesitated. From there, their management styles had been born out of renovations and the desire to make Mariposa their own.

The Coltons had put the once-small hotel on the map. It had been transformed into a getaway for the rich and famous, with twenty-four acres of spacious grounds northeast of Sedona. It now boasted thirty guest bungalows with stunning views of Red Rock Country, a five-star restaurant named after Annabeth herself, a garden, rock labyrinth, golf course, spa, horse stables and paddocks, and hiking trails.

Laura had learned to work with both of her brothers. They were invested in their shared vision, in this life. She could take their ribbing. Just as she could take the fact that she and Adam were both workaholics whose dedication and zeal left little in the way of private lives.

She drank more coffee and tried not to rue the long chain of failed relationships she’d endured, letting her eyes stray to the view from the conference room windows of L Building.

Shadows were long across the rocky vista with its stunning juxtaposition of blue sky and red geography. From its flat ridge top, Mariposa woke briskly. Staff would be going about preparations for the day. The chef at Annabeth would be arranging its signature champagne breakfast. Below the ridge and the bungalows, the horses would be feeding. The helicopter pilot who transported guests from the airport in Flagstaff would be doing preflight checks.

If she had to scrap her plans to be married with children by her late twenties for this, so be it.There’s plenty of time for all that, Adam liked to say when anyone commented on his lack of a wife or children.

Plenty of time, she mused. No need to worry about the fact that she was tripping fast toward thirty.

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