He was about to become one of them.
All he had to do was wait, stay low, and keep an eye on Bells. His return was not unexpected; his staying at Shelby’s house a minor complication.
In fact, this might be even better than the original plan.
The best way to right a wrong was to serve a very personal form of justice.
Revenge.
Yes, he would be a hero and a vigilante.
And no one would ever know.
OKLAHOMA SUNRISES WEREbeautiful.
As Colton stood in the backyard facing east and letting Salisbury relieve himself, he realized he’d actually missed this godforsaken portion of the world.
Time stood still in these early morning hours, light creeping over the flat land and stealing the night’s glory. He could see endless miles of sky, the stars twinkling out while ribbons of peach and indigo layered the horizon.
DC, Chicago, San Diego…all the big cities he’d been in lately with their skyscrapers, congested traffic, and nameless faces were great spots to disappear, become invisible. Here, he didn’t have that option, but it just might be worth it because of the sunrises.
And Shelby.
Salisbury finished his business and sniffed at the bushes lining the back of the house. For all of Reverend Jack’s money and protectiveness over his daughter, he’d let the place go to shit. Paint was faded in spots and peeling in others. The back door had swelled with humidity and would barely open. The yard—what there was of it—was overgrown and weedy. Like him, it could use a haircut and shave.
Later that day, he’d pull out the lawnmower.
Knowing Jack, he wouldn’t give the place a moment’s thought, believing Shelby would sell the house. Jack could once and for all forget she’d ever been married to Colton.
What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?
It was a question Colton had asked himself many times, knowing the answer was an ugly, mashed up mess. Like any father, Jack had wanted the best for his little girl. Colton had been the exact opposite of that.
He kicked at a broken branch near the back door and whistled for the dog. He’d already checked in with Beatrice, so he had another twelve hours to get some shit done.
Inside, Shelby’s cabinets were bare.
Her fridge, a big old stainless steel jobbie, held only condiments—a nice selection, Colton had to admit, but hardly breakfast material.
“You’d think a fridge the size of the Titanic would hold great treasure,” he said to Salisbury.
The dog wagged at him, his tufted ears cocked.
Colton checked the freezer. “Black bean veggie burgers, sweet potato fries, and biscuits. Sorry, Sal. No bacon.”
He shut the door and leaned against the counter. At least she had coffee beans. He’d found the grinder, but no coffee maker. Good thing Connor had already been up and working in DC when Colton texted and asked for help with the thingy on the counter. A French press, Connor had called it, guiding him through the ridiculously tedious process of pressing hot water through coffee grounds.
He’d only been back in Good Hope twelve hours and already he’d turned into a freaking pansy.
At least the coffee was good. Not as good as the stuff Connor made at the office, but better than the near-tasteless, rock-gut shit Colton threw in his Mr. Coffee at home. No matter how much he added to the pot, it always came out weak.
Shelby was still sleeping, and if he hadn’t had to keep an eye on her, he would have hopped in his truck and gone to the corner convenience store for eggs and milk. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to fix her for breakfast, and calling Martha to ask for another meal delivery was out of the question.
Just the thought of Martha’s eggs and biscuits made his stomach growl.
Snagging his mug from the counter, he poured what was left of his coffee into a bowl on the floor for Salisbury. “Join me in drinking pansy coffee,” he told the mutt.
He yawned and ran a hand through his hair while the dog lapped up the caffeine. The night had been quiet, but Colton hadn’t slept well, every noise in the house and outside making him jump. He’d feel better after he installed the Vesper system. He now wished he’d asked Beatrice for some guns.
