Chapter 4
Well. She hadn’t died a virgin. There was that.
She hadn’t died. Now she had time to work on that whole virgin thing, too. If she really wanted to, anyway.
Hope Coleson’s first thoughts after she woke in the hospital bed were completely irrelevant. Probably wildly inappropriate, considering her situation. And totally exactly what she was thinking.
That…
And that someone was holding her hand. She thought it was a man’s hand.
It was probably her brother-in-law Norm.
Norm took the whole stand-in dad thing he’d had going on for the last eighteen years seriously, after all.
He’d been there. Every time Hope or one of the girls she called her sisters-of-the-heart—various sisters and nieces her older sister Bonnie had raised after they were all orphaned—had needed them, Norm Halson had been there. The only dad any of them had had.
He was the best man she knew. And always would be.
It was possibly Norm. Or her big sister Heather.
Or her sister Marcia, Norm’s wife. Or—no, she didn’t think it was her sister Joy.
Joy had a smaller hand than Heather. Joy was kind of runty.
Joy was six inches shorter than Hope’s five-six, but Joy outweighed her by five pounds or so now.
Bonnie, Joy, Cashlyn, Cara and Samia were all the runty Colesons—just like Hope.
But Heather, Marcia, Summer, Eden and Crispin were all at least five foot nine and the kind of women men fought wars over.
Crispin topped out at over five-eleven now.
She looked the most like Hope—except Crispin was supermodel gorgeous.
Hope most certainly wasn’t that. She was the perpetually ‘cute’ version of the rest of them.
That had led to that whole ‘still a virgin at twenty-four thing’.
Hope really wanted to open her eyes and see who it was holding her hand right now.
But her eyes were refusing to cooperate.
She would have said something, but well…
her chest really hurt, too. She’d been shot—she remembered that part.
It was bound to hurt like the fires of hell. It was just bound to.
“Hey, Coleson. Going to sleep all day?”
That did not sound like Norm.
Her eyes flew open.
To stare into eyes so light brown they were almost golden. Beautiful eyes. She’d thought that before. He was a very beautiful guy. And he was staring down at her now.
It was a man. With dark hair, those eyes, and a tanned face. It was most definitely not her beautiful—and blond—brother-in-law Norm.
She hadn’t expected him. Not this guy. No. Definitely hadn’t been expecting him.
The dude had arrested her before, after all. So why was he here?
“Hey, Miggy,” she shot him a smirk, calling him the nickname she’d given him when she had been handcuffed to his desk that day.
He was a big guy. Six-seven or -eight. Like…
huge. Three-hundred fifty pounds of solid, beautifully sculpted man muscle.
He was a former college linebacker, she’d heard before.
He had a face that was made for Hollywood.
Hard to miss. And the guy just seriously got under her skin.
“Feels like I’ve been kicked in the chest by a mule. Where’s my mom?”
She really wanted to see her mom right now.
“Bonnie’s downstairs, in the cafeteria. She took my three monsters for ice cream. She needed a break. Met me at the doors and swooped the kids off for Grandma time.”
Hope didn’t ask what had happened—she remembered it far too much already.
“Guess I lived, then. Mads okay?” Hope looked toward the other side of her hospital room. She knew she wasn’t in a private room. No Coleson could afford that. Well, not her branch, anyway.
Her eyes widened when she saw a familiar face in the opposite bed. It wasn’t Madison right there. That…that was Haldyn. How had Haldyn—why…? “What did Kimball do to Hal? Where’s Mads?”
“How much do you remember about what happened to you?” He was leaning over her, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Gently.
That was one thing about Commander Miguel Rodriguez she had to say kind of fascinated her.
The man could be very gentle when he wanted to be.
Especially with those smaller and weaker than he was.
Which…was just about everybody he encountered, probably.
Totally built like a Greek or Roman god, this guy.
She’d had a hard time missing that, since he’d been staying in her family’s guest room for the past week. With his three kids, too. His three exceptionally adorable children that Hope loved completely.
His fourteen-month-old daughter had been sleeping in a playpen right next to Hope’s bed for over a week now. Since someone had ambushed this man in the Finley Creek TSP post parking lot. And Miguel had fallen, shot and bleeding, at Hope and her sister Heather’s feet.
She would never forget him almost pleading with her—and Heather, who he was really asking—to make sure his three children stayed together if he’d died. The man loved his kids more than anything. And he hadn’t had anyone else on earth to take care of those kids if something happened to him.
The man adored his kids. It made him tolerable.
Even if everything else about the man had Hope practically jumping out of her skin every time he turned those eyes in her direction.
She hadn’t been able to figure out why. But the man scared her more than any man ever had before.
She didn’t think he’d ever hurt her—not physically—but the man had her… edgy. Really, really edgy.
“Hope?” he whispered her name. He was just right there. Right over her, over the side of the bed. Almost in her personal space. But he wasn’t holding her down. Not like Steve Wilson had.
Wilson had hurt Heather time and time again. Hope had seen the bruises and recognized them for exactly what they were. And that one night, when Hope had let herself into Heather’s apartment—Steve had turned on Hope. She would never forget.
Steve Wilson was the reason she’d ended up with a bullet in her chest, after all.
She forced herself to pull in a deep breath. As deeply as she could anyway. “My chest…hurts. What exactly did they do to me in this place?”
The last thing she really remembered… “Where’s Mads? Please tell me she’s okay. I really need to know.”
Hope would be dead if not for Madison. Kind of hard to forget that.
“She’s safe. Under guard. Dom’s been keeping an eye on her.”
“Hal? How bad did he—they—hurt her? Where’s…Steve Wilson?” Memories were crowding in. Hope fought the fear. Tried to push the pain aside. She needed to know… “What else happened out there?”
“Detective Kimball, Detective Costovia, and that bastard Steve Wilson were three of the five men involved in the concert hall shooting,” Miguel said, bluntly.
But his hand was wrapped around hers. Still.
And he was there. Like he was guarding her or something.
“They were supposed to take out the entire forensics team on scene. To send a message to Major Crimes. Kimball was trying to stop it. To atone for past sins, we think. You and Madison and Haldyn were just the unlucky team on the scene at the time. Maybe. Major Crimes is still investigating. To see if Wilson targeted you on purpose. Or Haldyn. Or Madison. They don’t know yet, and I’m still not free from medical leave for another week.
They haven’t given me all the details. Yet.
But they will. You have my word on that. ”
The concert hall shooting. Hope grimaced.
She knew what he meant. It had happened a year and handful of months before Hope and her family had moved to Finley Creek.
Five men in disguise had burst into a local concert hall after a children’s choir and sprayed it with bullets—before abducting a woman and giving her to a deranged lunatic who’d wanted her to make a baby with him, since he had incurable cancer.
He’d wanted an heir. It had been beyond creepy—she’d thought that even before she’d learned the full details of that. Probably some details that she wasn’t supposed to have learned, actually. But…her little secret. Even from her big sister.
Hope’s colleagues Madison and Charlotte had been shot. As had another woman—Sheriff Zoey Daviess. Hope’s eldest half-sister Denita’s daughter.
Hope hadn’t even known Zoey and her branch of the Colesons had existed. But that case haunted Hope, too. She’d combed over the evidence reports herself. Trying to see if there was something that could help identify the shooters. Zoey was her niece. Even if Hope didn’t know her that well yet.
Colesons took care of Colesons. It was just the way it was.
Even if Denita had been pure evil.
There was a lot of pure evil in Finley Creek. Hope was one hundred percent convinced of it. “What happened to Kimball. And…Steve Wilson?”
She hated Steve Wilson. Hated him. For what he’d tried to do to her that night. But mostly for how he’d repeatedly hurt her sister. All Hope had wanted to do was find a way to stop him from hurting her sister.
But Steve wasn’t just a man who had beaten Heather multiple times and raped her at least once.
Hope had found things. Things that made her think he was involved in far darker acts even than that.
She fully believed Steve had been the one to ambush Miguel in the TSP parking lot.
They just hadn’t found the evidence to prove it yet.
Because he’d thought he owned Heather. And Miguel was getting too close to Hope’s sister now.
“Wilson is in…intensive care on the fifth floor. He took a bullet to the head, Hope. He’s not going to ever hurt you again. He probably won’t ever wake. Or your sister, or Madison or Haldyn. Any of you. I promise that.”
Hope shivered. “Is Hal going to be okay?”
“Kimball accidentally shot her while he was grappling with Steve Wilson. But she’s going to be okay.
It was a relatively minor wound. Worse than mine, but…
a lot less damaging than yours. She woke yesterday morning and has been talking.
Just in and out, resting. You slept for the longest, though. Three days.”
“Yeah, we’ll talk about that in a minute.” Hope raised one hand and touched the…bandages. Her entire chest hurt. No denying that. “I’m alive. I don’t want to think of the alternative.”
Hope blinked at him. And yawned. Waking up with him here hadn’t been super bad, at least. There was that.
She…she hadn’t been so sure she’d ever wake up again, out there, walking along the highway.
She’d never forget how terrified she had been.
How afraid Madison had been—Hope had known the other woman was trying to hold it together out there.
For her. She’d never forget that. “I’m sorry, Miggy.
I’d love to continue this conversation, but… I’m really tired.”
“Rest. It’s the best thing for you. Or so I was told recently.” His hand covered hers. It felt warm and strong and…safe. Like things would be okay. Like they hadn’t been in a long time. “I’m on guard. I promise. You’re safe now, Hope. I’m going to make sure of it. They won’t hurt you ever again.”
“Okay…” Her eyes closed. She concentrated on the feel of his warm hand around hers.
It had been nice not to wake alone and everything.
Less terrifying, even if he wasn’t one of her sisters or nieces.
A thought occurred to her. Fear had her eyes opening again.
“Is Heath okay? Wilson…told me after he killed me, he and his friends were going after her…”
“She’s just fine. Major Crimes have closed ranks. We will not let anyone hurt your sister. I promise.”
Well. That was good. Hope thought about what that meant as the clouds came back. She hadn’t woken alone. That mattered so much. “Just you and Murdoch, well, maybe Murdoch, anyway…can’t trust any other cops. Won’t ever. Ever again…Just you. That’s it. And…well…maybe Murdoch, too…a little now…”
“Sleep. We have your back, Hope. I promise. Heather’s, too. No one is going to hurt you again.”
Sure would be nice if that was true, wouldn’t it? But Hope…well, she’d stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago.