Bonnie Vanak - His Forgotten Colton Fiancée

His heart raced as he glanced up and saw Quinn’s white delivery van pull up in front of the tent. She jumped out and opened the back door. Someone hastened to set up another long folding table for the food. As she picked out the aluminum containers, her brother Brayden ran to help.

ATF agent Cal tracked her moves and whistled, making the outline of an hourglass with his hands. “Nice dish.”

West wanted to smack him. Hands off. She’s mine. He only grunted, and at the low sound, Rex growled.

Cal glanced down at the canine. “Easy, boy. I’m not going to take your chow.”

But I’ll take your head if you even try to touch her. West gripped Rex’s leash harder. Hell, it was tough enough concealing the fact he was secretly investigating the RRPD’s efforts to find the Groom Killer. Hiding his relationship with Quinn was agonizing. His instincts were to draw her away from the admiring glances, put an arm around her waist to signal that she was taken. Exclusively. By him.

And he didn’t even dare do more than nod at her when he helped carry a warm container of something that smelled like roasted lamb. Their fingers touched as she handed it to him, and familiar sparks jumped between them. West sucked in a low breath.

Damn, he could smell her amid the chemicals and the dust and the delicious odor of grilled meat. Real meat, too, not that tofu she also served.

His fiancée smelled like apples and spice, everything delicious.

Quinn finished setting up the containers and unpacked the paper plates and plastic silverware.

“All set, Chief,” she told her cousin. “There’s grilled lamb and rice, salad and butternut squash linguine with fried sage.” Quinn tossed West a saucy, knowing look. “For those who prefer froufrou food.”

Damn if it took every inch of his control not to laugh. Not to toss aside his plate of grilled lamb and stride over to her, pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Letting everyone know she was his and they belonged to each other. He didn’t need healthy food for fortification. He needed only Quinn, and her vivacious spirit and wholesome smile.

Cal drifted over and thanked her. The ATF agent jerked a thumb at West.

“Don’t mind Grumpy, Miss Colton. West doesn’t like healthy food,” Cal jested. “He’s a red meat man.”

“Takes all types,” Quinn’s brother Brayden remarked.

Ignoring them, West took his plate and a bottle of water to his car and sat on the hood of his truck to eat. He watched Quinn talk with Brayden at the table where most of the others ate. West noted that Finn Colton and Brayden worked closely with the Gages on the squad, despite the famous feud between the Colton and Gage families.

Did Quinn know where her sister was? What if she was hiding Demi? When he’d asked her about how close they’d been, Quinn had only shrugged and said she loved her sister, but they weren’t close and barely knew each other. Demi concentrated on her job as a bounty hunter and Quinn was invested in establishing Good Eats and trying to make a good rep for herself in town.

His radar went on full alert as a sleek, expensive car pulled up to the perimeter. Out from the driver’s seat climbed Devlin Harrington. West looked down at the excellent meal Quinn had prepared. It turned to cardboard in his stomach.

Harrington was a wealthy, entitled lawyer who worked in his father’s energy firm. The man oozed money. Probably used one-hundred-dollar bills as kindling in his fireplace each winter.

His father, billionaire Hamlin Harrington, was equally money hungry. He offered to save Colton Energy from bankruptcy, but only if Layla Colton, a bigwig at Colton Energy and the owner’s daughter, married him. Layla’s father, Fenwick, desperately needed the cash.

And the Red Ridge Police Department needed Fenwick to continue funding the large K-9 unit and training center. But Hamlin had called off the wedding to Layla until the Groom Killer was caught. Fenwick, who doubled as mayor of Red Ridge, was beside himself and breathed down the chief’s neck on a daily basis to solve the case. It didn’t matter that Fenwick was related to Chief Finn Colton. Fenwick needed money.

West understood Hamlin being nervous, canceling the wedding and calling off the engagement to Layla Colton. With a killer out to slay grooms, who would dare host a public wedding in town?

What he didn’t get was marrying for money, not love. He didn’t understand it. His own mother and father had been happily married for more than twenty-four years before a killer snuffed out their lives. He and Quinn wanted to marry because they loved each other, crazy as it seemed after barely meeting a month ago. But he knew Quinn was the right woman for him. She was intelligent and witty and caring, and he’d do anything for her.

Layla, Quinn’s cousin, seemed like a smart, kind woman, concerned about her family and savvy about business when he’d interviewed her about Demi Colton. Was she that dedicated to her family and saving her father’s company that she’d sacrifice her own personal happiness?

Life was short. He’d learned that at seventeen when his world blew apart. And marriage lasted a long time, or at least, it should.

West’s scarred hand felt tight today, as it did each time he worked a crime scene, reminding him of the night his family died in the bomb blast. He flexed it as he watched Harrington approach Chief Colton, wondering what the man wanted.

Wealthy lawyers usually didn’t visit crime scenes. Not unless they were ambulance chasers. He’d bet a case of hundred-year-old brandy that Devlin Harrington had never chased an ambulance in his life. Not with that cash cow of a rich daddy, who probably paid him a salary that made West’s modest income look laughable.

Wearing an expensive gray silk business suit, with a red power tie and starched shirt, and expensive leather footwear, Harrington looked out of place with the cops in their bunny suits, tactical vests and grubby, scuffed shoes.

The lawyer stood by the table where Finn Colton ate. He scrutinized the scene, shook his head. “Chief, this is most upsetting. Now we have a bomber in Red Ridge? I’m sure this is related to the groom killings. If there is anything I can do, any help I can offer, please let me know. I want to help. If you need assistance, I’m here.”

To his credit, Finn didn’t take the bait. “It’s too early in the investigation to tell anything. We’re doing all we can. Every man on this force is dedicated to catching the killer.”

“But you must admit this is terribly suspicious timing.” Harrington swept a hand over the crime scene tape. “If the killer is graduating to bombings, she must be caught. I wanted to let you know I’m offering a $100,000 reward for the capture of Demi Colton.”

West nearly choked on his forkful of rice.

Finn didn’t even blink. “Oh?”

“She must be found and brought in for questioning. If she’s innocent, she’s innocent. But if she’s guilty...” Again with the hand gesture. “Then the killings, and this kind of violence will end.”

Was the guy running for office? West snorted as a newspaper photographer snapped Harrington’s photo. He could envision the headline now: Billionaire Lawyer Offers Six Figures of Own Money for Capture of Suspect Demi Colton.

He hated it when civilians messed with an official investigation. Offering that much money for Demi’s capture would send everyone eager for the reward out searching, giving the department more headaches and more false leads to chase.

And make a desperate Demi harder to catch. Hell, half the town would be searching for her now, eager to claim even a share of the reward.

West knew he had to question Quinn further on her sister. If Quinn even had a remote inkling of where Demi was, he had to know immediately.