Ainsley Colton closed her eyes and let the soothing sounds of ocean waves wash over her.
Deep breath in. Exhale.
Again.
Her muscles relaxed as she repeated the breathing exercises, and gradually, she felt the knots in her stomach ease.
She wasn’t normally one for meditation. But with all the stress in her life, she was willing to try anything if it meant staving off a stomach ulcer, or worse.
“You’ve got to find some way to unplug,” Dr. Bleaker had said. She’d looked up at Ainsley during her last visit, dark brown eyes serious behind her gold wire-rimmed glasses. “I mean it, Ainsley. These headaches, your stomach pain—all the tests show there’s nothing wrong with you physically. Which means these issues are due to stress. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you exercising at all?”
Ainsley had bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the doctor. She knew the older woman meant well, but seriously? Her father had been shot and her brother Ace was the prime suspect, thanks to an anonymous email someone had sent to the board of her family’s company, Colton Oil, that said Ace wasn’t a biological Colton. Normally, something like that wouldn’t matter, but there was a small clause in the bylaws of the corporation that stated the CEO of the company had to be a Colton by blood. Her father, never one for subtleties, didn’t hesitate to oust Ace when the DNA test confirmed that Ace was in fact not a Colton. Her father had been shot soon after his decision, and there were a lot of fingers pointing at her brother.
As the corporate attorney for Colton Oil, she was right in the middle of the legal issues surrounding the company’s change in leadership. And as a sister and daughter, her heart had been bruised and battered by the events of the past few months. Ace might not be her brother by blood, but she’d grown up with him. He’d always be her family. It pained her to think of how he must be feeling right now, especially after the things their father had said and done to him. And Ace couldn’t have shot Payne. As for the old man, she loved him, too. He wasn’t perfect, but he was her dad. Payne Colton was such a force of nature, she couldn’t imagine the world without him in it. If only he’d wake up from his coma!
“I mean it, Ainsley,” the doctor had said, interrupting her thoughts. “I know you’re busy. But if you don’t make time for your health, you’re going to wind up with an ulcer or a heart attack. Don’t work yourself to death. You’re only thirty-seven. Your best years are still ahead of you.”
Ainsley had smiled and thanked the woman, then hurried back to her office to deal with the latest crisis. But as she’d washed down her fifth antacid of the day with a gulp of stale coffee, she’d been forced to admit Dr. Bleaker was right. She did need to find a way to relax.
So she’d done a little research and decided meditation might be a good option. She didn’t have time for yoga classes or a gym membership. But she could carve out fifteen minutes a day to listen to ocean sounds and breathe deeply.
Her cell phone vibrated on her desk, a soft buzz she registered over the meditation soundtrack. She cracked one eye open and stared at it, considering. Should she—?
No, she decided firmly. This meditation stuff wasn’t going to help her unless she actually took it seriously. That meant no interruptions. It was only fifteen minutes of her day—the world could wait.
The buzzing stopped. Almost immediately, she heard the muted ring of her secretary’s office phone. Someone really wanted to talk to her. Oh, well. Candace would take a message.
Deep breath in—
The door opened, making her jump. “Ms. Colton?” Candace sounded deeply apologetic. “I know you don’t want to be disturbed right now, but your brother is on the line and he says it’s an emergency.”
“Which brother?” Ainsley kept her eyes closed, tried to stay focused on her breathing. I’m on a beach, she told herself. If only that were true!
“It’s Asa,” Candace replied, using Ace’s birth name rather than the nickname his friends and family had adopted.
Ainsley’s eyes snapped open, all thoughts of relaxation disappearing between one heartbeat and the next. “I’ll take the call,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. She got to her feet and nodded at Candace, fighting the urge to lunge for the phone that sat on her desk a few feet away. “Thank you.”
Candace nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Ainsley swore softly as she stepped over to her desk and picked up the receiver.
“Ace?”
“Ainsley, thank God! Why aren’t you answering your cell?” He sounded flustered. Ainsley felt her muscles tense all over again. So much for meditation, she thought wryly.
“Never mind that. What’s going on? You told Candace it was an emergency.”
“It is! The police are here. They say they have a warrant.”
“Wait, back up.” She put her fingers to her forehead and began to massage the spot above her right eyebrow. “Where is here?”
“My condo,” Ace said, his tone making it clear this should be obvious. “I came back here after a while. The police are here with a dog and a warrant. What do I do?”
“What are they looking for?” she asked, already walking around the desk to grab her purse from the bottom drawer.
“I don’t know yet,” he said. “No one’s answering my questions.”
“Just stay out of the way,” she said. “I’m heading there now. I’ll be there in a few minutes, and we’ll get all this straightened out.”
“Hurry,” Ace commanded. He was clearly stressed, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d be flustered, too, if the police showed up at her door with a K-9 and told her they were going to search the premises.
“I will. Keep your mouth shut,” she instructed. “Tell them I’m coming and you’ll answer questions once I’m there.” With that, she hung up the phone and rushed to the door. “I’ll be out for a bit,” she said to Candace as she walked past the secretary’s desk. “Clear my schedule for the afternoon, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Candace called after her.
Ainsley opted for the stairs, descending as fast as she dared. She was sure the police had their legal ducks in a row—it was highly unlikely they’d risk an illegal search, especially on a member of her family, and given their relation to an MVPD sergeant—but she still wanted to get to Ace quickly. He was already jumpy and freaked out over the events of the past few months, and the last thing she needed was for him to say or do anything that might be interpreted as incriminating.
“Hang on, Ace,” she muttered as she climbed behind the wheel of her car. “I’m coming.”
* * *
It didn’t take long to get there. Ainsley opted for the elevator, not wanting to arrive out of breath. As soon as the doors opened, she stepped into the foyer of Ace’s condo and glanced around, looking for her brother.
She found him pacing along the far wall of the living room, in front of the stretch of windows that overlooked Mustang Valley. His hair was mussed, and as she watched, he lifted a hand to run through it in a nervous gesture.
He turned on his heel, caught sight of her. Relief flashed across his face, and for an instant, Ainsley felt ten feet tall. It meant a lot to know that her older brother had called her for help, even though technically he wasn’t her brother anymore. Regardless, she was going to do everything in her power to prove he hadn’t shot their father.
“Hey guys, she’s here!” he yelled, alerting the officers to her arrival.
She crossed the room and hugged Ace, feeling the tension in his body as she did. “Did anything happen since we last spoke?”
He shook his head, his brown eyes troubled. “I got out of the way, like you said. They’re searching in the bedroom now.”
“Did you say something, Ace?” a man’s voice called out. Ainsley and Ace both turned to see Spencer Colton walk out of the bedroom. He stopped when he saw Ainsley. “Hey there,” he said, offering her a nod.
Ainsley lifted one brow. “Spencer,” she replied, greeting her cousin. “Or should I say, Sergeant Colton?” She put a bit of extra emphasis on his last name, and he ducked his head.
“I know it’s awkward,” he said, walking over to join them. “But I’m here in a professional capacity only.”
She and Ace weren’t close with their distant cousins, but it was still unorthodox that a family member should be here serving a warrant. She decided to let it slide. If there was an issue, she could always bring it up later.
“May I see the warrant?”
A hurt look flashed across Spencer’s face, as though he couldn’t believe she would doubt his motives. “Of course,” he replied. He pulled a folded packet of papers from his back pocket and passed it to her.
Ainsley began to flip through the papers, scanning to find the information she sought. “A gun?” She looked up at Spencer. “That’s what you’re hoping to find?”
He nodded, just as Ace interjected, “I don’t have a gun!”
Ainsley placed one hand on her brother’s arm, silently instructing him to remain quiet. “What’s the basis for issuing this warrant?”
Spencer shifted on his feet. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…” He shrugged. “Seeing as how you guys are family.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We got a tip from someone who said Ace confessed to shooting his father and stashing the gun in his closet.”
“That’s ludicrous!” Ace said loudly. Ainsley tightened her grip on his arm, her nails digging slightly into his skin. He snapped his mouth shut.
“What’s her name?”
Spencer started to shake his head. “Now you know I’m not supposed to—”
Ainsley merely arched her brow and stared him down. Spencer sighed. “All right. Given that Chief Barco approved me working on this case and it could otherwise be a conflict of interest… It was a woman named Destiny Jones.”
Beside her, Ainsley felt Ace draw in a breath, preparing to defend himself. She gave his arm a little shake, and he backed down. “Did she say how she knows my client?” She deliberately used formal language, to remind everyone this wasn’t a social call.
Spencer glanced at Ace, and twin spots of color appeared high on his cheeks. “She, uh, said it was during an encounter of a personal nature.”
“She’s lying!” Ace yelled. He shook off Ainsley’s hand and stepped forward, bringing him closer to Spencer. “I don’t even know a woman named Destiny!”
Spencer held up a hand, palm out to try to diffuse Ace’s reaction. “No judgments, man. But we had to check it out.”
“So I guess anyone can call you up and spread lies about me, is that it?” Ace threw his arms out in disgust. “This is such a crock of—”
“That seems pretty thin,” Ainsley interjected. “How’d you get a judge to sign off on this?” She lifted the warrant, handed it back to Spencer.
“We had enough to get us in the door.” His lips pressed together in a thin line. Clearly, her cousin was done talking.
Ace shook his head, still fuming. “Yeah, well, you’re not going to find anything,” he said. “That woman, whoever she is, is lying.”
Seeming sympathy flashed in Spencer’s blue eyes. “Between you and me, I hope so. But I still have to do my job.”
“Spencer?” A voice called from the bedroom. “We need you back here. Looks like Boris has found something.”
Ace sucked in a breath. Spencer shook his head slightly, then turned. “Coming.”
Ainsley waited until her cousin had left the room. Then she grabbed Ace’s arm and dragged him over to the foyer, as far away from the bedroom as she could get.
“You need to be straight with me, right now,” she said, tugging his shirt for emphasis. “What are they going to find in your bedroom?”
“Nothing!” Ace whispered back urgently. “I swear to you, Ainsley, I didn’t shoot Dad. You know I didn’t. There is no gun in my room because I didn’t do it.” He met her eyes unflinchingly, his tone, his expression, everything about him absolutely sincere.
“Then what—”
“I don’t know!” he interrupted. She heard the edge of panic in his voice and her heart went out to him. He ran a hand through his hair again, causing the strands to stand on end. “But I can tell you this much—I don’t know a Destiny Jones. I haven’t been with a woman since—” he cut himself off, the tips of his ears going pink as he looked away. “Well, that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that whoever this woman is, she’s lying.”
“Why would a stranger lie about you like that?” Ainsley wondered aloud.
“I don’t know,” he said. He shook his head. “Maybe it’s a business thing? Someone trying to get back at me for something I did earlier? Or for money?”
Ainsley nodded slowly. That was definitely possible. Ace had a reputation as a ruthless businessman, and he had his fair share of professional enemies. Had one of them heard about the recent troubles over at Colton Oil and decided to make things harder on Ace?
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, she saw Spencer walk out of the bedroom holding an evidence bag.
“Ace?” he called.
Ainsley and Ace returned to the living room. Her gaze zeroed in on the clear bag in Spencer’s hand, and her stomach dropped as she saw its contents.
Spencer lifted his arm, showing Ace the gun. “We’re going to need you to come down to the station and answer a few questions.”
Ainsley sank into her desk chair with a sigh, feeling wrung out. She was tired, both from the events of the afternoon and her struggles to manage Ace’s reactions to everything.
Her brother had immediately and emphatically insisted the gun that Spencer’s scent hound, Boris, had discovered was not his. She believed him, but the police weren’t quite as willing to take him at his word. And why should they? A woman had called in a tip saying Ace had a gun in his closet, and lo and behold, they’d found it. It was a compelling piece of evidence, and possibly the weapon that had been used to shoot Payne Colton.
Except, it was all so very neat and tidy. Too neat, in Ainsley’s opinion. The more she thought about it, the more plausible Ace’s theory about a business or personal rival sounded. It was the perfect way to punish Ace for his steamroller business strategy, and she was willing to bet there were a lot of disgruntled souls he’d left in his wake as CEO of Colton Oil.
But as much as she wanted to help her brother, she was going to have to call in reinforcements. It wouldn’t be appropriate for her to handle Ace’s legal issues while still working for Colton Oil. Besides, she wasn’t a defense attorney, and after the discovery of the gun in Ace’s closet, her brother had now become the prime suspect in their father’s shooting.
“Don’t leave town,” Spencer had cautioned after he’d declared Ace was free to go.
“We’ll definitely have more questions for you later,” Detective Kerry Wilder, their adoptive brother Rafe’s fiancée, had added.
“I’m sure you will,” Ace had grumbled. “I’ve always been a suspect.”
Ainsley had managed to drag her brother away before his temper had flared again. She understood why he was so upset, but every time he got emotional it only made him appear more guilty.
“Stay here,” she’d told him, dropping him off at his condo. “I know the best defense attorney in the state. I’m going to call in a favor.”
“I don’t want someone else,” Ace had said. “I want you.”
“You can’t have me,” she’d told her brother. “This isn’t my specialty. Trust me, this guy is good. You don’t need to worry.”
“I’m worried as hell,” he’d grumbled. “But I do trust you.”
She’d been touched by his admission, once again feeling a spurt of pride at the fact that her big brother was relying on her. Now, in the privacy of her office, she allowed herself a little smile.
Her cell phone sat on her desk. She reached out and traced her fingertip along the edge, gathering up her courage to take this next step. She’d promised her brother the best defense attorney in the state. She owed it to him to deliver.
Even if it meant calling the man who’d broken her heart.
She took a deep breath and picked up the phone before she could change her mind. She’d deleted Santiago’s number years ago, but it didn’t matter. Her fingers danced across the keypad without hesitation, punching in the numbers she still knew by heart.
He picked up on the first ring. “Ainsley.” His voice was deep and smooth. A tingle shot down her spine and she closed her eyes, wishing he hadn’t answered so quickly. She’d wanted a few more seconds to compose herself, to prepare to speak to him again.
She cleared her throat. “Hello, Santiago. How are you?”
“Better, now that I’m talking to you.” He’d always been so charismatic. It seemed the years had done nothing to diminish his charm. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
Ainsley swallowed hard, pushing down her pride. Ace. She was doing this for her brother. “I need your help.”
“Of course,” Santiago replied. “Are you in your office?”
She frowned. “Yes. But—”
“Excellent,” Santiago said, cutting her off. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“You’ll what?” she exclaimed. But he’d already ended the call, leaving her with nothing but a dial tone.
Ainsley hung up and placed the phone on her desk, her thoughts a jumbled mess. He couldn’t be coming here. That wasn’t the deal. She’d bargained on talking to him only, giving him Ace’s information and letting him take things from there. She hadn’t intended on seeing him again.
And what was he doing in town anyway? He didn’t live in Mustang Valley. It was the only reason she’d been able to get over him after he’d broken her heart years ago. If she’d had to see him all the time, she’d still be pining for the man. His move to New York after their break-up had been a bit of a gift. She’d heard through the professional grapevine he’d returned to Phoenix, but she hadn’t expected to find him in the comparatively sleepy town of Mustang Valley.
She lifted her hand, brushing it over her hair. This was really happening. In a few minutes, Santiago Morales was going to walk through her door.
Would her heart be able to handle it?
* * *
Damn. She looks good.
Santiago pushed the thought aside and offered a smile to Ainsley’s secretary. The woman blushed prettily and nodded before turning to leave. Normally, he’d take such a reaction as a compliment, maybe even an excuse to invite her to dinner. But now that he’d seen Ainsley again, he only had eyes for her.
Had it really been five years since their breakup? Five years since he’d left to chase his dreams in New York City, opting to prioritize his career over his personal life? In some ways, it felt like a lifetime ago. But standing in Ainsley’s office, watching the play of emotions on her face as he drew closer, it suddenly seemed like only a few hours had passed since he’d made his choice.
She looked different now. Her brown hair was shorter, falling to her shoulders instead of down her back. God, how he’d loved to wrap those strands around his hands! Her hair had always felt like silk on his skin, a soft caress that had driven him mad. Even now, just thinking about it gave him goose bumps.
Ainsley watched him approach, her blue eyes guarded and her delicate features arranged in a carefully neutral expression. Her skin was still pale, a testament to the amount of time she spent in her office. She sported some fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and he hoped they were from laughing and not frowning. He’d always wanted the best for her, had always wanted her to be happy.
Which was why he’d left.
He wasn’t husband material—never had been, never would be. It was something he’d always known about himself, and given his family history of miserable marriages, he wasn’t looking to take on that particular role.
So he’d left, before he could disappoint Ainsley with his shortcomings.
Santiago forced himself to smile as he came to a stop in front of her desk. His arms ached to embrace her, to have her fill the Ainsley-shaped hollow space in his soul that he’d lived with over the past five years. But he could tell by her apprehensive air that such an overture would not be welcomed.
“Ainsley,” he said. Just saying her name gave him a kind of relief. After he’d left, he’d done his best to push all thoughts of her to the side. He’d thrown himself into his work, and his efforts had paid off. He’d made a name for himself, first in New York City, then in Phoenix. Coming back to Arizona had never been part of his plan, but when the firm had called a year and a half ago, they’d made him an offer he simply couldn’t refuse.
So he’d packed his things and moved back to the land of sun. And Ainsley. He hadn’t expected to hear from her—after all, things hadn’t ended well between them. Even so, he couldn’t deny he’d felt a spark of hope when he’d seen her name on his phone screen. He knew it had taken a lot for her to reach out to him. And while he knew she had zero interest in seeing him again in a personal capacity, part of him wondered if they couldn’t find their way to being friends again.
“Hello, Santiago.” She didn’t offer her hand, so he didn’t either. It was clear she didn’t want him to touch her, and he always respected a woman’s boundaries.
She gestured to the seat behind him. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” he replied, lowering himself into the chair. He made an obvious show of studying her face. “You look wonderful,” he said simply.
If she appreciated the compliment, she didn’t show it. “Thank you,” she said flatly. She leaned back a bit in her chair, evidently conducting her own appraisal. “I’m surprised you’re in town,” she said. “What’s a big fish like you doing in such a small pond?”
Ouch. He tried not to wince at the barb. He hadn’t used those exact words, but that had been the gist of his argument when he’d left five years ago. “I can’t grow my career here,” he’d said, gesturing to the window to encompass Mustang Valley. “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life working on drunken assault cases and DUIs.” He’d needed to move to New York to take on the kind of high-profile cases that interested him. Given his childhood, he’d known marriage wasn’t in his future. He hadn’t enjoyed hurting her, but there had been no other way.
“I’m here on family business,” he said, running his hand down the length of his tie. But he didn’t want to talk about that just yet. First, he wanted to hear her story. “Why don’t you tell me how I can help you?”
Ainsley pressed her lips together, and he got the impression that calling him had been a last resort. Worry flared to life in his belly. What was going on? Was she in some kind of trouble? He’d assumed she’d called him on behalf of someone else, but in the face of her obvious reluctance, he had to wonder if he’d been wrong.
“You know I’ll help you,” he said quietly. He’d never stopped caring for her, probably never would. He’d made it clear when he’d left that he would always be there for her. And even though he’d never expected her to turn to him again, he was pleased that she had now.
She nodded, emotion flashing in her eyes. “It’s my brother,” she said finally.
Bit by bit, she told him the whole story. The email to the company’s board, the DNA test, her father’s shooting. And the gun they’d found today in Ace’s condo. He’d heard some of the details before, thanks to news coverage of the story. But she’d filled in several gaps in his knowledge and he realized how convoluted the whole thing actually was.
“He didn’t do this,” she said, leaning forward a bit. “I know it looks bad right now, but I also know my brother. He’s not capable of doing something like this.”
Santiago didn’t argue. In his experience, people were often very capable of doing shocking things, and often for less motivation that what she’d just outlined. But he wasn’t here to argue with Ainsley about the darker aspects of human nature. He’d only met Ace a few times before; he didn’t know the man well enough to form an opinion on the matter.
“So are you asking me to advise you?” She wasn’t a defense attorney, but he knew she could handle this case if she wanted to, especially with a little help.
She shook her head. “No. I’m asking you to take the case.”
He leaned back, considering. What he’d told her earlier was true—he was in town on a family matter. But perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone?
“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll take the case.”
Relief flashed across Ainsley’s face. “Thank you. I’ll have a contract drawn up immediately. We will pay your full rate, plus expenses.”
Santiago waved this away. “I’m not worried about the money. There’s something else I need from you.”
Ainsley’s eyes filled with wariness, and he felt a wall go up between them. “Oh? What’s that?”
“You’re not the only one who has a sibling in trouble.”
Ainsley arched an eyebrow, silently inviting him to continue.
“It’s my sister, Gabriela,” he began. “She married a real piece of work. She’s been unhappy for a long time, and she agreed to try counseling. They went to this place called The Marriage Institute. It’s a few miles outside town—have you heard of it?”
Ainsley shook her head. “No,” she said. “Is it like a retreat of some kind?”
“That’s exactly what it is,” he said, relieved that she seemed to understand. “Gabriela and her husband Eric went, and after a week there, she agreed to sign some paperwork nullifying large sections of their prenuptial agreement, specifically the clauses regarding spousal infidelity and inheritance upon her death.”
Ainsley frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “But I looked at the documents and they appear to be solid, from a legal standpoint.”
“Why would she sign such a thing? Your parents were always vigilant about your inheritance terms. I’m sure they treated your sister the same way.”
Santiago nodded. “Believe me, they did. If anything, they were even more careful with Gabriela’s share once she decided to get married.” His family’s wealth went back generations, thanks to careful stewardship from his great-grandfather and then grandfather. His own parents had added to the layers of protection guarding their money, wanting to ensure their family’s future for decades to come. Gabriela’s engagement had come with a veritable forest of paperwork for her would-be husband to sign, all in the interest of making sure he couldn’t touch a penny of her share of the Morales fortune.
And then his sister had undermined most of it with a stroke of the pen.
“I think Gabriela was coerced into signing the paperwork,” he said, leaning forward. “I think this Marriage Institute is a sham, that they don’t really care about helping people at all. I think they take bribes from spouses and go to work brainwashing the unsuspecting partner until they agree to see things their spouse’s way. That’s the only reason Gabriela would sign those papers.” He shook his head, frustration rising in his chest the way it always did when he thought about what had happened. “I’ve spoken to some other people who attended the retreat. They all tell the same story. Gabriela isn’t the only one they took advantage of—there are several other people out there who noticed irregularities in their joint accounts that their exes never really explained. Missing funds that were probably used as bribes. My sister isn’t stupid. She was tricked. And I’m going to prove it.”
“How are you going to do that?” Ainsley asked. “I can’t imagine they’ll just let you poke around the retreat and ask accusatory questions.”
“They won’t,” he agreed. “Which is why I’m going there undercover.”
Ainsley frowned. “What do you mean?” There was a note of concern in her tone, and for a second, he wondered if she was worried about him getting into trouble.
“I’m going to pretend to be a client, there with my wife. We’re both going to offer them a bribe, then find out which person they decide to help.”
“Oh.” Ainsley visibly relaxed, apparently assuming she’d deduced his request. “So do you need me to draw up some sham paperwork that your fake wife wants you to nullify?”
“Nope.” Santiago shook his head, nerves tingling in his belly as he arrived at his real reason for coming to Ainsley’s office. “I want you to be my wife.”