Page 49 of Colton's Last Resort

Adam and Joshua Colton may have shared similar heights, builds and coloring. But they couldn’t be more different. Adam stood as high and straight as a redwood. No trace of a smile touched his mouth.

On the flip side, Joshua grinned widely, a sly twist teasing one corner of his mouth higher than the other. His hair was longer than his brother’s and carelessly wind-tossed. While Adam’s eyes injured, Joshua’s practically twinkled. “Hey, Fender Bender!” he greeted Noah, earning a groan from Lurch at his side.

Whether it was because Joshua’s enthusiasm reminded him of Allison’s or because his ready familiarity with Noah made Adam uncomfortable, Noah felt a strong chord of amusement. “Fender Bender?”

Joshua lifted a shoulder. “Adam told me not to lead with ‘Motherplucker.’”

A choked laugh hit Noah’s throat. He covered it with a cough as Adam cast a disparaging look over at his brother. The elder Colton shifted his weight and attempted to start over. “We’re going for a morning run.”

“Okay,” Noah said uncertainly.

“You should come with us,” Joshua suggested.

“Or not,” Adam dropped in. “I’m sure you’re booked.”

Joshua nodding knowingly. “With Laura.”

Adam shifted gears fast. “You’re coming with us, Steele. No ifs, ands or buts about it.”

“Pretty please,” Joshua added, posthaste.

Noah lifted a brow. He glanced at his jeans. “You know, I’m not really dressed for—”

“We’ll wait,” Adam inserted.

When Joshua moved forward, Noah stiffened. He wouldn’t have time to hide the mess on the coffee table. “Ah... It won’t take long for me to get changed.”

Joshua’s smile turned stilted. “What’re you hiding in there, Keith Richards?” He craned his neck to get a look. “Burned spoons? Coke? Heroin? Women?”

On the last word, the younger Colton’s voice dropped to a dangerous bass. Noah would’ve been offended if he wasn’t so impressed by the hard gleam in his eyes. He tried to laugh it off. “None of the above,” he said. “I just don’t want it to get back to Laura that I’m a slob.”

Joshua lifted his chin slightly. “Sure. We’ll wait.”

“Just a minute.” He shut the door and shrugged off the jacket, cursing viciously. Throwing it over the back of the chair, he then unlaced his boots. In the bedroom, he removed the gun holster and tucked it safely under the mattress.

Quickly, he exchanged the jeans he wore for an old pair of sweatpants. He left on the 1969 Johnny Cash San Quentin State Prison T-shirt and grabbed the sneakers he’d stuffed in his duffel as an afterthought. Happy for the foresight, he scrubbed the back of his hand over his bearded jaw, left his jacket on the chair and opened the door to find the Coltons waiting with varied levels of patience.

Stuffing his bungalow key card into the pocket of his sweats, he injected a hint of nerves into his voice as he asked, “You two are going to go easy on me, right? Being on the road doesn’t leave a lot of time for exercise.”

Joshua and Adam traded a glance as they led the way up the path. “Sure thing,” Joshua replied before he broke into a jog, getting a head start.

Noah caught up with Adam and muttered, “Thanks for your help back there.”

“You want Josh’s trust,” Adam retorted, “earn it yourself.”

Adam pulled ahead, trailing behind his brother. Noah was forced to kick it into gear. A cloud of warm air plumed from his mouth as the cold slapped his face.

He kept up with them just fine, even as the path turned rough around the edges and the bungalows fell behind. They passed signs for a trailhead. The path declined, forked, inclined, forked, declined and inclined again. Caution signs zipped past, as well as guardrails looking out over long drops.

They reached a high point and Adam and Joshua let up finally. Adam doubled over, holding his hamstring while Joshua paced, panting.

Noah tried not to grope for the trunk of a nearby shrub tree. He liked to think he was in good shape, but he sipped air that felt thin. They’d pushed him, either to test his mettle or as some kind of Colton initiation rite.

They would need to work harder to throw him off the scent, he thought with a lick of triumph as he caught Adam’s wince. “Is this the halfway point?” he called out.

Joshua spared him a look over his shoulder. “This is as far as we go, Steele.”

No more “Fender Bender.” Not even a “motherplucker.” Noah circled, swept up in the panorama. “Hell,” he whispered, impressed. He could understand why people paid thousands of dollars to stay at Mariposa. The state parks were littered with people. To find a solitary hike these days, a person had to wander off the map.

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