Page 73 of Fatal Vision
He would have to be extremely careful, utterly silent.
His training had prepared him for this. No one would ever know, or even suspect he was the culprit.
How many times had he stared at Shelby in her coma and itched to finish what he’d started? The time and place hadn’t been right, though. Too many eyes watching.
Once she’d regained consciousness, his emotions had made him weak again. She was so tough, smart, and damn beautiful. It made him wonder if she could still be an asset rather than a liability.
If only she didn’t know the truth.
But did she? Or had her meeting with Bells that night just been to reunite with him?
If she did know, it was buried, maybe gone forever, in that damaged brain of hers. His heart had tried to convince him she would never regain consciousness, and then, after she did, that she would never remember.
But if she did or started digging around again…
He couldn’t take that chance.
The man picked up the black bag at his feet and crossed the frost-covered ground. His footprints would be long gone before anyone thought to look for them.
FOUR A.M. ANDhe couldn’t sleep. Lying beside Shelby had felt good—too good. He shouldn’t get used to it. Yeah, they’d made love a couple times and he’d actually let himself hope that this might become the norm again. That his luck had turned.
But luck was an expensive, hard-to-find commodity in his world. He didn’t believe in it any more than he believed in Jack Claiborne’s God.
Guilt ate at him. Shelby was in a precarious time of her recovery. She couldn’t even remember the reason she’d finally cut the cord with him.
And he hadn’t exactly offered it up last night.
Should have told her.
But damn, this woman. He wanted—needed—her so damn bad, he’d do anything to get her back. Even if it meant withholding information.
I’ll tell her today.
He would, too. Right after he figured out this damn case.
He’d gotten up at three, reheated coffee, reviewed the paper files and struggled with what he’d found.
He’d seen pictures and read accounts that turned his stomach.
Three men dead. All fellow brothers-in-arms, men he’d fought with. Respected.
Every one of them tied to Connor’s rescue mission, even if one was a secret.
Tied to me.
Salisbury whined at the back door, interrupting Colton’s concentration. He rubbed his eyes and sat back in the chair.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
“Salisbury, get away from the damn door.”
Scratch, scratch, scratch…Anotherwhine.
Colton sent his chair back and walked down the hall. “What is the matter with you?” he whisper-growled. “Stop that. You’re going to wake Shelby.”
But the dog didn’t even look up. He dug at the floor and the threshold, becoming more frantic.
Probably had to take a dump after those chicken fries.
