Alessandro Donato.
Tall, dark and mysterious.

The quintessential playboy, or so the rumors went. Hero in disguise or con man with an agenda?

Colleen would give the charming Italian the benefit of the doubt, since Alessandro had protected Holly and Jake when they’d needed it.

But if Alessandro Donato was up to no good, she’d nail his hide to the wall all over the front page of the Colorado Springs Sentinel, regardless of how attractive she found him.

FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS: Can faith and love sustain two families against a diabolical enemy?

A TIME TO PROTECT–Lois Richer (LIS#13)

THE DANGER WITHIN–Valerie Hansen (LIS#15)

THROUGH THE FIRE–Sharon Mignerey (LIS#17)

IN THE ENEMY’S SIGHTS–Marta Perry (LIS#19)

STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL–Terri Reed (LIS#21)

HEARTS ON THE LINE–Margaret Daley (LIS#23)

TERRI REED

grew up in a small town nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. To entertain herself, she created stories in her head. And when she put those stories to paper, her teachers in grade school, high school and college encouraged her imagination. Living in Italy as an exchange student whetted her appetite for travel, and modeling in New York, Chicago and San Francisco gave her a love for the big city, as well. She has also coached gymnastics and taught in a preschool. She enjoys walks on the beach, hikes in the mountains and exploring cities. From a young age she attended church, but it wasn’t until her thirties that she really understood the meaning of a faith-filled life. Now living in Portland, Oregon, with her college-sweetheart husband, two wonderful children, a rambunctious Australian shepherd and a fat guinea pig, she feels blessed to be able to share her stories and her faith with the world. She loves to hear from readers at P.O. Box 19555, Portland, OR, 97280.

Strictly Confidential
Terri Reed

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to

Terri Reed for her contribution to the

FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS miniseries.

Thank you to Diane Dietz and Steeple Hill for this opportunity to work on this series. I had such fun working with and learning from the other authors.

Draw close to God, and God will draw close to you.

— James 4:8

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Alessandro Donato —Tall, dark and handsome, he showed up wherever there was trouble. Was Alessandro working for the European Union, as he claimed, or for the bad guys reviving the drug trade in Colorado Springs?

Colleen Montgomery —Her reporter’s nose smelled a story brewing…and Alessandro was her prime target. But would her curiosity get her killed?

Dahlia Sainsbury —The museum curator wanted Colleen out of the picture—because she wanted Alessandro for herself or was there a more devious motive?

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

“T his is strictly confidential. Off the record. Mum’s the word.”

Colleen Montgomery paused in the act of pulling out a navy business suit from her closet to arch a brow at her sister-in-law, Holly.

Holly flipped back her long dark-brown hair, which she’d curled and wore loose rather than in her traditional ponytail. “I’m serious. You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

Grimacing, Colleen stared. “That’s like asking me not to breathe.”

Holly rolled her brown eyes. “And you’re not wearing that suit. You’re wearing the dress I brought you.”

Rehanging the suit, Colleen gestured with her hands. “Hello. I’m an investigative reporter. My life is about telling everyone what I see and hear.”

“Promise me, okay?” Holly shifted on the bed where she’d sat as soon as she’d entered Colleen’s bedroom. She was wearing a pretty lilac party dress that flattered her even with her bulging tummy, and she’d come in on the pretext of bringing a dress for Colleen to wear to the museum gala. Now, however, Colleen suspected her sister-in-law had another agenda, one that brought worry to her pretty brown eyes and marred the normally smooth skin between her brunette eyebrows.

“Is this about my brother?” Colleen moved to her vanity to brush her blond hair. “’Cause if it is, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

Holly twisted her diamond wedding ring. “It is about him and me.”

Colleen held up a hand and met Holly’s gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “I can already tell this is going to be more information than I want to hear about my big brother. Unless he’s dragged you back into the FBI with him, in which case I’ll go clobber him on the head. Considering you’re carrying my niece or nephew, the FBI is not a good place for you.”

Holly grinned and patted her burgeoning belly. “No, of course not.” She lifted the sheath dress off the bed. “Here, put this on while I explain.”

Eyeing the little black shift with trepidation, Colleen said, “You really think I should wear that?”

“Yes. For once dress like a woman.”

Colleen pulled a face. “Cute.”

Holly laughed. “You know what I mean. All you wear are pants and button-down blouses. Time to move out of your comfort zone.”

Colleen took the dress. It wasn’t exactly something that could be worn while chasing down a story, not if you still hoped to be taken seriously. Of course, tonight she hardly expected to find anything of interest worth reporting. She moved into the bathroom to dress. “Fine. Start talking.”

“Do you remember when Victor Convy kidnapped me?”

Colleen scoffed as she changed out of the jeans and cotton T-shirt she’d put on after showering earlier. “Hard to forget a thing like that.”

“Right. Well, something happened that I never told anyone about.”

Anticipation of a story fluttered in Colleen’s belly. Her parents often joked that she’d greeted the world with a notepad and pen in hand. “Okay.”

“Remember how Jake had said he couldn’t remember if he’d shot Convy or not because of his concussion?”

Stepping into the dress, Colleen made a noise of affirmation. The fear of losing her brother still gnawed at her like a dog with a bone. But that came with love. She had no choice but to love her brothers and now their wives, but thought thankfully that she didn’t have time for a romantic love. She didn’t want to carry around that kind of fear.

“He didn’t,” Holly said.

Colleen’s heart picked up speed at the juicy tidbit of information. She stepped out of the bathroom, holding the dress to her chest. “ You did?”

“No.” Holly lowered her voice and a conspiratorial light entered her eyes. “Alessandro Donato did.”

“What?!” The dress dropped to the floor and pooled around Colleen’s ankles. She quickly pulled it back up and slipped her arms through the holes.

Holly eagerly nodded. “I’m telling you, he came out of the trees dressed all in black like some superhero, shot Convy, and made certain Jake was alive before untying me. Then he disappeared as stealthily as he came when he heard the sirens coming.”

Colleen blinked, unsure how to process Holly’s tale. “So you’re saying that Alessandro Donato rescued you and my brother from Convy?”

Eyes wide, Holly bobbed her head. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Wow! That’s huge.”

Rumor had it that the mysterious newcomer, although Lidia Vance’s nephew, had somehow been responsible for the shooting of his uncle, Mayor Maxwell Vance.

How could Donato save one man’s life and then be suspected of trying to take the life of someone in his own family?

She’d seen Donato at church with his aunt and cousins, but was that just for show? What was the Italian’s relationship with God? And why would he sneak around playing hero?

Struggling with the zipper, Colleen asked a question only Holly could answer. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Come here, let me do that,” Holly said.

Obliging, Colleen turned her back to Holly.

“Hey, he saved our lives. I figured I owed him my silence when he asked for it.” Holly pulled the zipper to the top.

The silky fabric of the dress clung to Colleen’s curves and swished softly as she sat down on the bed next to Holly. “Why tell me this now?”

Holly took Colleen’s hands. “Because I don’t believe that he had anything to do with my uncle Max’s shooting.”

“Hmm.” Colleen hadn’t wanted to believe the good-looking Italian was capable of such evil when she’d heard he was a suspect in the mayor’s shooting, either, but she hadn’t anything concrete to base her gut instinct on.

And in light of the tale Holly had just told…

“I wonder what his story is?”

Holly squeezed her hand. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Meaning?”

Holly wiggled her eyebrows. “I saw the way you and he were making cow eyes at each other at the Valentine’s dinner.”

“Oh, please.” Colleen stood to hide the heat in her cheeks. “We were not making cow eyes.”

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t find him attractive.”

Colleen reached to the back of her closet and grabbed a pair of black strappy sandals that she hadn’t worn since her oldest brother’s wedding. “So he’s attractive. Big whoop. I’m not in the market for a man.”

Holly’s little chuckle grated on Colleen’s nerves. A romantic relationship would only hinder her career. Colleen’s plans for the future didn’t include risking her heart. She’d tried that once in college and the constant worry and concern she’d felt took her focus away from journalism. Now that she was moving up in her chosen profession, she had no interest in anything romantic.

Holly’s intent gaze captured Colleen’s attention. “In all seriousness, would you investigate him for me? I need to know what’s up with him before I tell anyone about what happened.”

Colleen held out her hand to help Holly from the bed. “I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t promise I won’t report what I find.”

Holly’s mouth quirked. “Can you promise to tell me first so I can prepare Jake?”

“You should tell him anyway.”

“I know.” Distress entered Holly’s eyes. “I will. But I want all the facts before I say anything. You know your brother, he’ll want all the details.”

Colleen smiled. “That is true.”

Holly preceded Colleen into the hall. As Colleen pulled her bedroom door shut behind her she thought about Alessandro Donato.

Tall, dark and mysterious.

The quintessential widower playboy, or so the rumors went. Hero in disguise or con man with an agenda?

She’d give the charming Italian the benefit of the doubt, since he’d protected Holly and Jake when they’d needed it.

But if Alessandro Donato was up to no good, she’d nail his hide to the wall all over the front page of the Sentinel regardless of how attractive she found him.

Alessandro Donato had a vow to fulfill. A vow to rid the world of drug dealers. Such people had cost him his family.

From his vantage point on the opposite side of trendy Fourth Street, he surveyed the bustling crowd making their way toward the door of the Colorado Springs Impressionist Museum for the opening of the Monet, Manet and Renoir collection.

He tugged on the stiff bow tie at his neck, wishing he’d thought to bring his own tux from his home in Italy.

But he’d had no way of knowing he’d still be here on this crisp May night. He’d thought that with the death of Baltasar Escalante, known drug lord, his time in Colorado Springs would have ended long ago and he’d have moved on to another assignment.

But against all logic, Escalante hadn’t died when his plane went down and now had resurfaced back in this thriving community.

Only, Alessandro couldn’t ID him.

His sources were confident that Escalante had had plastic surgery, so the drug lord could be any one of the men in this town. He could even be here tonight.

At the door to the museum Alessandro showed his invitation and was admitted with a cursory nod from the burly doorman.

Once inside, Alessandro took stock of the situation, noting the exits, the windows and the corridor leading to the offices where the staff of the museum worked. He’d only lived this long because he never took anything for granted.

To his right, a young, fresh-faced girl took coats and wraps from the glittering partygoers. He moved forward into the heart of the museum. Gleaming blond hardwood floors shone with a high gloss, picking up the effervescence of the crystal chandeliers.

Several benches were arranged in strategic positions, giving patrons places to sit while they contemplated the works of art on the walls. Classical pieces that attracted a huge crowd. Alessandro had to give the curator credit for securing such masterpieces.

A waiter laden with trays of savory appetizers paused and offered his fare to Alessandro.

“No, grazie ,” he murmured as his gaze snagged on the museum’s curator, Dahlia Sainsbury.

She moved with lethal grace, like a feline on the prowl. Her tall, elegant frame was draped in a signature Chanel dress of soft pink, which emphasized her pale, almost translucent skin.

As usual her dark-as-night hair was sleekly pulled back into a fancy twist at the base of her neck. Her ruby-red lips spread into a slight smile that didn’t reach her sultry eyes.

Her beauty left him cold, and it had nothing to do with his vow never again to be romantically involved with a woman. No, he suspected Dahlia’s beauty covered a heart of deceit.

Alessandro made his way through the crowd toward Dahlia. His instincts had been on full alert for some time now, warning him that she had something to do with Escalante. Alessandro had found a strong tie, one he hoped would lead him to the man responsible for the escalating drug trade in Colorado. The man most likely behind the shooting of Mayor Maxwell Vance.

Derisive anger shot through Alessandro. Some people thought that he had had something to do with his uncle’s shooting. Ridiculous.

“Nice show tonight, Miss Sainsbury. Your gala is a fine success,” Alessandro said as he halted and forced himself not to choke on the cloyingly sweet perfume permeating the air around the evening’s hostess.

“So glad you approve, Mr. Donato,” she responded in a clipped British accent that eerily mirrored that of another of Escalante’s cohorts.

Alistair Barclay: the British hotel tycoon and Diablo crime syndicate kingpin who’d made a deal with the drug cartel run by Escalante. Together they’d used Barclay’s luxury hotel business as a cover for their dirty dealings.

But through the dedicated efforts of various law-enforcement individuals and private citizens, the crime organization had been dismantled. Barclay had gone to prison and Escalante disappeared.

Recently Barclay had turned up dead in his prison cell. Alessandro was sure that Escalante was behind the assassination.

“I’d be interested in how you acquired such remarkable pieces for the exhibition,” Alessandro said, focusing his mind on the task at hand.

She arched a dark, winged brow. “Ah, so that is why you called me earlier this week. I apologize that I was unavailable. I also understand you were here yesterday while we were setting up. Do accountants for…what is it you do again?”

One side of his mouth lifted. Not for a second did he believe she’d forgotten. “I’m an accountant with the European Union.”

“Ah, yes. The European Union. What would an accountant do with such knowledge?”

“You’d be surprised at the connections I have.”

A sly look entered her eyes. “Connections that I might find useful?”

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, dropping the bait. “Connections you might find profitable.”

She inclined her head. “I like the sound of that. Punch?” she asked, stopping a waiter as he passed with a tray of crystal glasses filled with a colorful concoction.

Without waiting for his answer she handed him a glass. “To your health and to a future business relationship.”

Over the rim of the punch-filled glass he met Dahlia’s dark gaze. He suppressed the shudder that ran through him.

Somehow he felt that he’d just sold a piece of his soul. Or at least put it in hock.

Colleen felt bare in the little black tank-style dress that Holly had declared she must wear since she couldn’t wear it herself. Colleen clutched the sheer blue wrap that her mother had given her tighter around her shoulders as she trailed behind her brothers, Jake and Adam, and their wives into the museum.

“Easy, now,” Jake cooed to his pregnant wife, as they made their way inside.

“Honestly, you’d think I was about to give birth this instant the way you’re hovering, Jake,” Holly gently chided, even as she leaned on his arm.

Colleen stifled a smile, noting that Adam was just as solicitous to Kate, as well.

She was happy for both her brothers. Each had found the love of their hearts. Their soul mates. Colleen didn’t have time for soul mates or any type of mate. Her life was about getting the next story and that was the only reason she’d agreed to come to this spectacle tonight.

Her editor wanted his people on the lookout for the next scoop. Well, she could only hope there’d be something to snag her interest here; all the town’s most prominent citizens were attending. But she wasn’t into society pieces. She much preferred gritty hard news.

“Ladies,” her older brother Adam said, indicating the coat check.

Colleen frowned. “I’ll just hang on to this, thanks.”

Holly bumped up next to her and whispered none too softly, “Chicken.”

Colleen gritted her teeth at the dual grins her brothers flashed her way.

Being the baby sister of the Montgomery brothers hadn’t made for an easy childhood. Colleen had tagged along, wanting to be a part of that special world that only boys could roam. She’d long ago realized that the only way she’d get the appreciation and approval she craved was to be the best at whatever she did and not let being female hold her back.

That was why wearing a clingy shift that revealed her shoulders and showed off her calves left her feeling awkward and self-conscious. But she wasn’t a chicken.

She slipped the wrap from her shoulders and handed it to Adam. He whistled between his teeth. “Maybe you better leave it on.”

“Be nice,” admonished his wife, Kate. “She looks lovely.”

Colleen caught the dubious glance her brothers exchanged and bit her lip, wishing now she’d stuck to her pantsuit.

“ Lovely is not quite the right word,” said Jake. He reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind Colleen’s ear. “I’d say beautiful is the right one.”

Colleen blinked as sudden tears burned her eyes. She couldn’t remember her brother ever saying something so…flattering.

Adam hugged her. “I think our baby sister’s grown into a woman. Finally.”

His words warmed her like the first rays of sun on a cold winter’s morn even as she punched him in the arm for his teasing.

“Okay, boys. Leave your sister alone,” Kate said in her no-nonsense nurse voice. Then she hooked her arm through Adam’s. “Shall we go in and see these paintings we’ve heard so much about?”

Jake slipped his arm around Holly’s expanding waist and guided her in. Adam and Kate followed. Colleen waited a moment and took a few deep breaths.

She smiled and nodded hello to several people as they filed in. She waved to Reverend Gabriel Dawson from Good Shepherd Christian Church and his wife, Susan, who ran the shelter in town, as they entered.

As she started forward she heard her name called. She turned to find Sam and Jessica Vance walking toward her.

“Hey, Sam. Jessica.” Sam’s wavy dark-brown hair was subdued with a bit of gel, and his tall, muscular frame filled out his tuxedo nicely. Beside him, Jessica, his wife of a year, fairly glowed in her silver floor-length dress and upswept hair.

“You’ve got a story idea for me?” Colleen eyed Sam with hope.

Several times Sam had brought ideas for stories to her attention. Stories that needed the sort of investigating the police didn’t have the manpower for.

“We’re still working on the arsonist cases. Haven’t had any breaks. You turn up anything?”

She shook her head. “I know Chief O’Brien had something to do with the hospital fire but I haven’t nailed down what yet.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “So far we’ve got nothing to hold him on.”

“You know, I keep thinking that somehow the fires at Travis’s and Quinn’s businesses are connected to the hospital fire. I’m working on putting the pieces together.”

Interest sparked in Sam’s eyes. “Keep me posted on anything you come up with.”

“I will. Enjoy the exhibition,” Colleen replied and then excused herself.

She walked into the main area of the museum and looked around in awe at all the glittering ladies and well-dressed gentlemen. She felt like a fake, all dressed up as though she was one of these people.

This wasn’t her. She liked khakis and loafers, not these black torture devices squeezing her feet.

“Hello, Colleen. Enjoying yourself?”

She turned toward the older woman who had stepped up beside her. “Lidia, hello. I just arrived. This is very impressive.”

Lidia Vance, Mayor Maxwell Vance’s wife, nodded in agreement. She wore a stunning red two-piece outfit that accentuated her olive skin and dark eyes. Italian by birth, Lidia had come to this country as Max’s young bride back in the sixties. “I wish Max were here to see this.”

“How is the mayor doing?”

Max Vance had been shot, but luckily not killed. His attacker was still at large.

Colleen had a hard time fitting Alessandro into the role of assassin. He was more the playboy type, not one to dirty his hands. But—impressions could be deceiving.

There was no mistaking he held an appeal that few women—except herself, of course—could resist. Like a movie star come to visit in their small community, he attracted attention.

Her sources had informed her that Donato had been hanging around the museum lately. He’d sat next to Dahlia Sainsbury, the museum’s curator, at the Valentine’s Day dinner. Not that Colleen had paid much attention or had an emotional reaction to the pair. It hadn’t mattered to her in the least. But now…what connection did they have?

“Max is improving every day. The doctor says he’ll be able to come home soon to recuperate.”

Refocusing on the conversation, Colleen said, “That’s wonderful. I’m sure Dad will be happy to hear that.” Frank Montgomery and Maxwell Vance were lifelong friends and godparents to each other’s eldest children.

Lidia smiled. “Tell your father hello for me. I know Max would welcome another visit.”

“I’ll let him know. I’m surprised my parents aren’t here yet.” Her parents were still heavily involved in community affairs even though Frank’s term as mayor had long since passed.

Lidia patted her arm and moved away to talk to an older couple bedecked in jewels and finery.

Colleen looked for her editor and for the newspaper’s photographer but didn’t see either. She’d wait until they arrived before she started interviewing the guests. This kind of event wasn’t her normal gig, but Al Crane, her editor, had insisted she attend and conduct interviews because her family knew everyone in town and they’d all talk to her.

She wasn’t sure that was true, but she did want to ask the new curator about Alessandro Donato and his interest in the museum. She wandered over to a sand-colored exposed brick wall that made an elegant backdrop for Monet’s “Poppy Field Near Giverny.” She liked the vibrant hues: reds, blues and greens.

She moved along the wall inspecting other works by Monet when a strange awareness brushed over her. She stilled.

Slowly, she turned and scanned the room. Her gaze landed on a tall, black-haired man. Her breath hitched when she realized Alessandro Donato was staring at her. His dark, unreadable eyes conveyed a message she had trouble believing.

Even though her brothers had stated she looked beautiful tonight, Alessandro’s expression made her feel beautiful.

Which was bad, very bad, because even if she had time for a relationship, he was the wrong kind of man to get goofy over. She wouldn’t give up her independence for a playboy, no matter what, so how he saw her or made her feel was irrelevant.

Then why did she have the crazy urge to run and hide?

TWO

“E xquisite, isn’t she?”

“Sì, bellissima,” Alessandro murmured to Dahlia, his gaze riveted on the vision that had walked in only moments ago.

Colleen Montgomery.

How could this feminine beauty standing on the other side of the room be the tough-as-nails investigative reporter he’d come to admire?

Colleen’s writing was witty and informative as well as thought-provoking. And the times they’d interacted, such as at the Valentine’s Day dinner, he’d enjoyed her feisty personality and charming wit.

He felt Dahlia’s hard stare. Alessandro blinked and realized with embarrassing clarity that he’d lost track of the conversation with the museum’s curator and his only lead to Escalante. “ Scusa , you were saying?”

Her red-as-blood lips curled. “The painting.”

He glanced at the portrait of a woman standing on a hillside with a parasol. The painting had a wistful feel to the lines and strokes of the brush.

“Ah, sì . A masterpiece.” He handed his still-full glass of punch to a passing waiter. “Miss Sainsbury, will you excuse me un momento? ”

The knowing look in Dahlia’s eyes as she gazed from him to the corner of the room where Colleen now studiously inspected a Renoir led him to believe his distraction had been quite obvious.

And it was a distraction he didn’t need, because he had a drug lord to bring down.

“Of course, Mr. Donato. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk business at a later date.”

Alessandro hesitated. He’d come to the museum tonight to insinuate himself into Dahlia’s life as a path to Escalante. He should stick close to her, but if he couldn’t concentrate he’d screw up. Screwing up was not an option after what had happened to Paola.

He bowed slightly and moved away, slowly and methodically making his way toward Colleen. He’d talk with her and get her out of his system so he could get back to his real purpose: finding Escalante and taking him down, once and for all.

“Buona sera, bella signorina.”

Colleen blinked as Alessandro Donato took her hand and placed a light kiss on the knuckles. Sparks shot up her arm. “Good evening to you too, Mr. Donato.”

She tilted her chin up in an effort to dispel the way the smooth cadence of his oh-so-pleasing accent caressed her senses, much as his lips caressed her fingers.

“Please, call me Alessandro,” he said, a gentle smile touching his well-formed lips.

Her throat suddenly dry, Colleen swallowed. “Alessandro.”

Saying his name aloud felt strange and thrilling. The name rolled off her tongue in such a delightful way, making her aware of a threat she hadn’t anticipated.

This man affected her in ways she’d only experienced around him. With every interaction they’d shared, the effect had intensified.

It made her nervous. She didn’t like to be nervous. Nervousness was a weakness she’d learned to overcome in order to pursue the gritty stories that would one day propel her career to new heights.

“Lovely party, no?”

“Yes, it is.”

Feeling slightly off balance when she gazed into his eyes, she glanced around, hoping to find some equilibrium, and spotted her parents entering the room.

The former mayor of Colorado Springs looked handsome in his dark tuxedo with his shocking-white hair and bushy eyebrows. Her mother wore a floral tea-length dress in vivid shades of coral that brought extra color to her rosy complexion.

Fondness for her parents tightened Colleen’s chest. Her mother’s bright eyes and warm smile made anyone who came in contact with her feel special.

Colleen met her mother’s gaze and saw a question in her pale blue eyes: why was her only daughter talking to a man suspected of shooting his uncle?

Colleen gave a slight shrug as if to say “so what?” Her mother would understand how little stock Colleen took in the rumor mill. So often she’d proven the gossips wrong when she’d investigated a story.

She turned her gaze back to the man standing beside her. The knowing look in his dark eyes made her sense he’d somehow interpreted the exchange between mother and daughter correctly.

“Your mother is protective, no?”

His words confirmed her thoughts. “Yes. I’m her only daughter and you’re basically a stranger, even though you’ve been in town off and on for over a year now. Still, even your aunt Lidia doesn’t seem to know you well.”

She studied him, liking his dark wavy hair and the aristocratic lines to his jaw. His soulful eyes could be hard and demanding yet turn so charming and compelling that her heart pounded with a rapid beat.

He’d said he was an accountant. He certainly didn’t come across like any number cruncher she’d ever met. Superhero, Holly had said. Determination to uncover his secrets slid into place. “What is it exactly you do for the European Union again?”

A slow smile tipped the corners of his mouth upward. “I’m gathering information to bring back to Europe on the feasibility of opening a branch of the E.U. Bank in Colorado Springs.”

“What kind of information?” She’d heard her father and Max talking about how they’d yet to see any results from Alessandro’s work.

“Information that will further transatlantic economic integration and enhance the flow of investments as well as trade between the E.U. and the U.S.”

“That sounds like a party line to me,” Colleen stated as her reporter’s instincts kicked into gear. “Does such information include art?”

“Scusi?”

“I’ve heard from sources that you’ve taken an interest in the museum. And its new curator,” she commented, thinking of the brunette he’d been talking to when she walked in.

She hadn’t missed the way they’d stood close together, as if they were involved romantically. Perhaps that was why he’d been hanging around. Why did a bubble of disappointment lodge itself in her chest?

He arched a brow. “Really? You are checking up on me, bella? I’m flattered.”

A heated flush flamed in her cheeks. “People talk. Especially about a mysterious newcomer.”

“Is that what I am to you, bella? Mysterious?” His dark eyes probed her as if he wanted to see deep inside her where she held her own private thoughts.

She rubbed at the sudden goose bumps prickling her arms. “I think you’re a man with much to hide.”

“For you, cara mia , I would gladly tell all my secrets.”

“Yeah, right.”

Not for one second did she believe him, but his smooth-as-silk tone and roguish smile still made little butterflies take flight in her stomach.

She lifted her chin. “I’ve heard that Italian men are dreadful flirts. You are very accomplished, indeed.”

He chuckled, a deep sound that penetrated all the way to her heart. “What a delight you are, Colleen.”

Unaccountably pleased by his words, she sought to bring some reality to the situation. “I doubt my brothers would agree with you,” she replied as she caught sight of her two brothers standing side by side, glaring at them.

She smiled. They both shook their heads, clearly indicating they didn’t approve of the person she was talking to.

Alessandro followed her gaze with his own. “Ah, the protective Montgomery brothers.”

“What can I say? Do you have family besides your aunt Lidia?” she asked, needing to turn the conversation back to him.

There was a story here. She wanted to unravel the mystery of this intriguing man so he’d no longer hold any appeal for her. Besides, she’d promised Holly.

“What is family? Only those whose blood you share? Or those who stand by you in time of need?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but she saw something flicker in his eyes, something dark and painful, and she fought the urge to reach out to him. She had no experience in offering comfort to anyone, let alone to a man who was not family.

“Family can be both of those things. Family comes through connection. Whether through blood or friendship. Or through the bond of faith.”

His expression softened. “Ah, sì . Faith. You believe deeply in God, no?”

“Yes. Very deeply.”

“Because you were raised to believe.”

“I was raised to believe, but that’s not why I believe.”

“Tell me, then, why do you believe?”

“Because without faith in God there is no hope.”

“So is that what keeps you going, even when you investigate the travesties of the world? When you report about an abused wife whose life has become a nightmare at the hands of the one man she should trust? When you report on the drugs and the crimes perpetuated by evil men? Is it hoped that God will deliver justice? Where is the justice for the victims?”

Surprised by his passionate words, Colleen laid a hand on his arm. “God is faithful all the time,” she said simply. “I don’t understand God, can’t fathom why the bad things in life are allowed to happen. All I can do is put my faith in the only One who does know.”

Alessandro covered her hand with his. The warmth of his palm against the back of her hand made her toes curl inside her pointed black sandals. “I admire your steadfastness,” he said.

His admiration was pleasing, not to mention the tender expression in his dark eyes. If she weren’t careful, she could get used to having him around.

A commotion near the entrance interrupted the moment and common sense rushed in. Colleen extracted her hand. Having him around? What was she thinking? Obviously, she wasn’t.

She didn’t have time for such things. She needed to stay focused on her job.

Raised voices drew her attention. She turned to see Fire Chief Neil O’Brien push past the burly doorman.

“I’ve a right to be here, just as everyone else does,” Neil said, his words slightly slurred.

“Not in this condition, you don’t,” the doorman replied and made a grab for Neil’s arm. Neil dodged and continued forward, his gaze scanning the crowd, obviously looking for someone.

He looked even more haggard and worn than he had the last time Colleen had seen him, at the fire station when she’d confronted him about his gambling debts. His hair was mussed and his brown eyes bloodshot. A generous amount of weight had settled around his middle.

Colleen guessed his gambling was getting to him. She felt bad for his pregnant wife, Mary, and thankful that she wasn’t here to witness the spectacle her husband was making of himself.

Neil drew up short when he met Colleen’s gaze. He pointed a shaky finger at her. “You.”

Not one ever to run from a challenge, she stepped forward. “Chief O’Brien.”

“Because of you, people are saying I had something to do with the hospital fire. I told you I didn’t. But you couldn’t leave it alone.”

“I don’t for a second believe Lucia was negligent that day. My instincts tell me you’re hiding something and I’m going to prove it. And if what I wrote in my article cast suspicion elsewhere, then so be it.”

Colleen was aware that every person in the museum was watching, and she was even more conscious of the fact that Alessandro had come to stand behind her as if he were guarding her, protecting her.

The thought should have annoyed her. She always hated it when her brothers took that he-man stance. But having Alessandro standing watch over her made her feel secure inside.

“It didn’t cast suspicion elsewhere. It cast it on me and I have enough to deal with without your vigilante journalism destroying my life.” He swayed, but jerked away from Sam’s steadying hand.

“It looks to me as if you’re destroying your life quite nicely all by yourself,” Colleen retorted, feeling sympathetic toward his wife and unborn child. “You need some help, Chief.”

“I don’t need anything from you people.” He turned on his heel and stormed toward the entrance.

At the archway he stopped and yelled, “You’ll get yours, missy. One of these days, you’ll get yours. I’ll see to it.” Then he banged out the door.

His threat rang hollow, just like other threats she’d received before from those whom she’d upset with her candid and factual stories.

Concerned that Neil would end up doing something stupid like driving while intoxicated, Colleen took a step forward to follow him, but Alessandro’s hand cupping her elbow stopped her.

“No, bella . You must let him deal with his mistakes on his own.”

“But he shouldn’t be allowed to wander the streets in his condition.” She stared up into Alessandro’s handsome face.

“You have such a generous heart.” He released her elbow and stepped away. “Your family,” he said before melting into the crowd.

Colleen took a steadying breath as her family gathered around her, making sure she was all right. After assuring everyone she was okay and that they should resume their evening, she looked around for Alessandro.

She caught a glimpse of him as he disappeared down the corridor that led to the curator’s office. And the curator was nowhere in sight. Just what was the relationship between Alessandro and Dahlia Sainsbury?

But more importantly, what was this funny ache in the middle of Colleen’s chest? It couldn’t be jealousy, could it? Absurd.

Colleen walked over to her editor, Al Crane, who was talking to Dr. Robert Fletcher and his wife, Pamela. “Good evening, Doctor Fletcher, Mrs. Fletcher.”

“How are you feeling, Colleen?” asked Dr. Fletcher. He was a tall man and still athletic in build, though his light-brown hair was thinning out. Humor always sparkled in his blue eyes.

“Good, thank you.”

When Colleen had been injured during the hospital explosion a few months ago, Dr. Fletcher had been her doctor. “Do you mind if I borrow Al for a moment?”

Colleen pulled Al aside. “There’s a story in Alessandro Donato.”

“What kind of story?” Al asked around the unlit cigar hanging perpetually from between his lips.

At five feet eight inches, Al was paunchy and crabby and tough. Colleen liked him because he didn’t give an inch and always demanded the best.

She shook her head. “Not sure yet. But there’s something there.”

Al narrowed his brown eyes. “Seems to me you two were getting pretty chummy before ol’ Neil came blasting in.”

“I was questioning him. Trying to get some background information. He was not forthcoming,” Colleen replied, thinking of his words about God and justice. Not the information she’d been after, but interesting just the same. What had hardened his heart toward God?

She wouldn’t admit to her editor the emotional roller-coaster ride she’d just been on, courtesy of Alessandro Donato. Alessandro had evoked curiosity, excitement, longing and an odd sense of rightness in her when they were together. Strange how someone she barely knew could do that to her.

“It seems to me Neil might be a better option. Your articles on the recent fires have him hiding. Far as I know, this is the first time he’s emerged since the bombing at the hospital. I don’t like the way he threatened you.”

Colleen scoffed. “Empty words. I’m not putting Neil on the back burner, believe me. But I want to see what I can find out about Donato. There’s something he’s hiding.”

Crane’s bushy eyebrows rose. “You think he has anything to do with the recent drug activity going on?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know.”

She couldn’t picture Alessandro participating in drug trafficking. The drug trade seemed too smarmy for such a sophisticated man, but then stranger things had happened. And not all criminals looked the part. Nor did all superheroes.

Crane snagged a crab puff from a passing waitress and popped it into his mouth. He chewed for a moment then said, “You get the scoop on Donato and the growing drug business in town and I’ll give you a raise.”

Excitement jittered through her veins and she grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that, Crane.”

He grunted and moved away to catch up with the young woman carrying the tray of appetizers. She watched him stuff two into his mouth and swipe two more. How he could eat around that disgusting cigar she didn’t know.

Her mind focused on the budding story in her head. She could see the headlines in her mind. Mystery Man Revealed. Drug Trade Unraveled.

A flash of pale pink caught her gaze. Dahlia was returning from her offices, carrying a glass of punch. Alessandro wasn’t with her. This would be a good opportunity to ask Dahlia about the elusive Signor Donato.

Colleen started forward and realized Dahlia was making a beeline straight to her. They met in the middle of the room.

“Miss Sainsbury, this is a lovely event,” Colleen said by way of easing into a conversation.

“Thank you, dear. Punch?” She handed the crimson liquid to Colleen.

“Uh, sure.” Colleen accepted the cool glass. “You’ve certainly worked wonders in the short time you’ve been here. How long has it been now?”

Dahlia waved a hand. “One loses track of time when putting together a new project.”

“Where were you before coming here?”

Dahlia’s expression tightened slightly. “Europe.”

“Ah, so is that where you met Alessandro Donato?”

“How do you like your punch?” Dahlia asked, completely ignoring the question.

“I haven’t tried it yet.” It looked syrupy sweet.

“Please do. I just made a new batch and would like your opinion,” Dahlia purred.

“You made this? I thought that was what the caterers were for.”

Dahlia’s lips thinned. “I keep tight control over everything. That’s what makes me successful. Drink. Please.”

Colleen lifted the glass to her lips. The sugary scent wafting up made her nose twitch. She grimaced as she opened her mouth to take a sip.

“There you are,” a familiar masculine voice said from Colleen’s right just as a hard body slammed into her shoulder, knocking the glass from her hand and sending it to the floor with a sickening crash.

Dahlia screeched as she jerked back, avoiding the mess. Colleen jumped away, managing to only get a few sticky drops on her shins and the tops of her black shoes.

Glaring at Mr. Tall, Dark and Suave next to her, she said, “What are you doing?”

Alessandro gave her a charming smile. “ Mi scusi ! I must have tripped.”

Colleen narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

He was too graceful and too self-controlled for her to believe that nonsense. He’d done that on purpose. But why?

The sharp edge to Dahlia’s tone when she instructed the wait staff to clean up the mess clearly conveyed her irritation.

“Miss Sainsbury, I may have a potential buyer for one of the paintings. Could we discuss it?” Alessandro asked.

One side of Dahlia’s red lips curled. Her eyes were cold as she gave Colleen a final glance before taking his offered arm. “Indeed.”

They walked away leaving Colleen to stare after them. So much for questioning Dahlia or Alessandro any further. Anger boiled in her blood.

To be made a spectacle of and then to be so easily abandoned did not sit well. Oh, yes. She was definitely going to uncover that man’s secrets, even if it was the last thing she ever did.

THREE

A lessandro thought fast and spoke just as quickly, coming up with a cover story of an unnamed buyer wanting to have one of the exhibition’s paintings at an astronomical price. He could see Dahlia was taking in the story at face value. There was no buyer, but he’d fork out the money himself if he needed to.

Anything to keep Dahlia from whatever mischief she had intended for Colleen.

Alessandro had seen Dahlia slip into her office while Neil O’Brien had drawn everyone’s attention. As soon as Alessandro could, he’d left Colleen’s side to spy on Dahlia.

Through the partially open doorway of her office, he’d heard her on the phone telling someone that, yes, it would be done, just give her a few minutes. And then she’d hung up and taken a small vial from her desk drawer and poured the contents into a glass of punch. He’d hidden in the shadows when she’d left. He’d slowly followed, wondering what she was up to.

His heart had nearly stopped when he saw her hand the glass to Colleen. He’d known he had to stop Colleen from drinking the tainted punch and the only feasible way to do so without giving up his own cover was to knock the glass from her hand.

He’d hate for anything bad to happen to Colleen. He liked her—more than he had any woman in a very long time.

Not since Paola. His heart squeezed at the thought of the woman who’d broken his heart so many years ago.

He welcomed the pain as a reminder that no matter how much he liked and admired Colleen Montgomery, she was off-limits.

He wasn’t looking for a relationship.

Only for justice.

Colleen made excuses to her family that she needed to go home and clean the punch off herself, but really she wanted to get started researching Donato and Sainsbury.

She left the museum, hailed a cab and was soon home in the house she’d grown up in. Once inside the two-story ranch built in the 1940s, Colleen stepped out of her shoes, left them by the front door and then vaulted up the stairs to the guest room in the back where she’d taken up residence ever since she’d given up her downtown apartment and moved back in with her parents to save money.

It was only a temporary arrangement, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay in her old bedroom with its purple walls and posters catering to her childhood whims. Living in a shrine to her youth would be too weird. She’d planned to redecorate her old room, but hadn’t as of yet found time.

Once in the guest room, she changed into lightweight stretch pants and a T-shirt, pulled her hair up into a ponytail and then fired up her laptop computer.

With the marvel of modern technology, she’d have access to all sorts of information on Donato. And luckily she knew several reporters in Europe who would be willing to do a little footwork for her.

She settled in and started digging into the life of Alessandro Donato.

Alessandro was glad to see Colleen leave, but he hated that he had the urge to follow her home to make sure she arrived safely.

As it was, he’d watched her get in the cab without harm and that would have to do for now. Without the distraction of Colleen’s presence, he could concentrate on initiating Dahlia’s trust.

Dahlia had led him to an alcove near the swinging doors that closed off the caterers from the party. “Tell me, Mr. Donato, would your buyer be willing to come to Colorado Springs and meet with me?”

“ Sì , that could be arranged.”

Out of habit he moved to stand with his back toward the wall so he could see any approaching threats.

Dahlia laid a hand on his arm. “Good. You’ll get back to me with a time?”

“ Sì , yes.” Alessandro would contact his boss and have someone arrange to pose as an art buyer.

A piercing scream split the air.

The noise came from behind the swinging doors.

“Stay put,” Alessandro said to Dahlia, as he left her to charge through the doors.

A sobbing waitress was trying to explain to another waiter what had made her scream. Alessandro took her hands. “Shh. Breathe, signorina . Slowly, now. What has caused your tears?”

Behind him, the swinging doors banged open as Sam Vance stormed in, followed closely by the Montgomery brothers and Al Crane.

“I heard a scream. Is someone hurt?” Sam demanded.

The girl hanging on to Alessandro’s hands hiccupped and then pointed out the back door. “I think…he’s dead.”

Alessandro beat Sam out the door. Seeing Neil O’Brien face down on the ground, Alessandro hung back as Sam bent to check the pulse of the man lying prone in the alleyway, a dark stain spreading across his back.

“He’s dead,” Sam confirmed.

Sam secured the crime scene and placed a call for forensics. The burly doorman ushered all the bystanders back inside, where they were instructed to wait because the police would need to ask questions since they were all potential witnesses.

Alessandro observed Dahlia’s less-than-horrified expression as she assured those around her that the museum would be open for visiting as soon as the next day.

As the CSI techs and medical examiner arrived, Alessandro stayed on the fringes of the activity. After combing the scene for clues, the CSI team released the victim. They rolled Neil over and placed his body in a black bag before loading him onto a gurney and taking him away.

Alessandro watched Sam bend down and with the end of a pencil pick something up. A large lump formed in Alessandro’s chest when he realized the object of Sam’s inspection was the blue scarf Colleen had been wearing when she’d first walked into the museum.

Colleen stayed up all night, tapping her resources for information on the mysterious Alessandro Donato. She’d e-mailed a friend at immigration asking for information on Alessandro’s visa, because knowing where the visa originated and when it expired could be helpful.

The information supplied had led her to Fabriano, Italy.

She contacted a former classmate who lived in Rome and had her check hospital records in the small town in the center of the country.

A few hours later, the information she received back stunned her. Not only had Alessandro been born in that small Italian community, but so had his child. A little girl.

The knowledge hit her like a physical blow. It was one thing to think of Alessandro as a playboy but another to know that there was a woman in his life.

“A daughter,” she muttered as she typed in the information in the spreadsheet she used as a tool for gathering notes for her articles.

She could picture a raven-haired feminine version of Alessandro running around with mischief in her dark eyes and a grin on her face.

The image tightened something unfamiliar in her chest. She frowned.

Children were for other people, not her. She didn’t have time in her life for the ties of an immediate family. Yet…she couldn’t shake the strange feeling or the image. She hoped that if she slept, she’d be able to banish the sudden abnormal longing for a family of her own.

She forced herself to lie down and tried the relaxation techniques she’d learned in college when she’d needed sleep in order to be attentive for her classes. Deep breathing and concentrating on letting each limb become heavy helped her to relax. Eventually she fell into a light sleep.

Colleen awoke as daylight filtered in through the slats of the blinds covering the window. Though she was not completely refreshed, her mind buzzed with alertness.

Without preamble, she went back to work. In her note file, she typed, Where’s mother of child? Where’s child? Is the mother his dead wife? Is Dahlia Sainsbury mother of child? If so, what are they planning? If not, is he just a playboy sniffing after a pretty face?

That last question brought her up short.

There was no question the man was suave and charming. He had the ability to make whomever he was talking to feel special. But a womanizer?

Surely she’d have heard rumors of specific liaisons if that were the case. No, whatever he was up to wasn’t anything so frivolous or obvious.

“Find the child and the mother won’t be far away,” she muttered.

She put another request in to her Italian connection and asked that she track down the child’s whereabouts and check marriage records for Alessandro Donato.

A knock sounded at the front door. She glanced at the clock and realized she was alone in the house. Her parents would have left over an hour ago.

She clicked out of her e-mail and brought up her desktop screen saver: an ocean beach with tranquil water and warm-looking sand. One of these days she was going on a vacation.

She left her office and went downstairs to open the front door. Becca Hilliard and Sam Vance stood on the stoop.

“Hey, guys, come in.” Colleen stepped back to let them enter. It wasn’t unusual for the pair of detectives to appear at her front door. Often they’d come with leads or in hopes of gaining information on a story she was working on.

Becca’s light-brown hair was pulled back into her usual long ponytail hanging almost to her waist. She was dressed in navy slacks and matching jacket over a white blouse. She smiled slightly as she stepped into the foyer. “Hello, Colleen.”

Sam passed Colleen without comment. His tall, muscular build could be overwhelming at times, especially when he was working. His dark wavy hair looked clean and his face freshly shaved, but Colleen noticed the grim expression tightening his strong jaw.

“Where were you last night?” Sam asked as he looked around.

Colleen arched one eyebrow. “You saw me last night at the museum. What’s up?”

Becca walked into the living room. “Are you alone?”

Wary, Colleen followed her in. “Yes.”

“Where did you go after you left the museum last night?” Becca asked.

Colleen slid her gaze to Sam, who watched her with hooded eyes. She frowned. “I came here.”

“Was anyone here?” Sam asked, his voice low.

“No. I heard my parents come home later.”

“Where are they now?” Becca asked.

“They’re at their Bible study. Every Thursday morning for the past ten years.” Colleen put her hands on her hips. “What is going on?”

“Did you see Neil O’Brien after you left last night?”

Becca’s softly asked question sent a ripple of concern down Colleen’s spine. “No. He stormed out and that was that.” She shook her head. “He was really drunk. I hope he didn’t get in a car and drive like that.”

“No. He didn’t get into a car.” Sam moved restlessly around the room.

Colleen tracked his progress. “Sam. Talk to me.”

He stopped his pacing and turned to look directly in her eyes. “Do you own a gun?”

“What?” She dropped her chin. “Do I need one?”

He moved to stand right in front of her. “Colleen. Neil O’Brien was murdered last night.”

Colleen staggered back a step. He was about to be a father. “Oh, poor Mary. How…What happened?”

“Someone shot him in the back,” came Becca’s reply.

“In the back?” Colleen’s journalistic nose twitched. “I’ve got to get my notebook.”

“Actually, Colleen, we need you to come down to the station with us.”

Colleen stopped and stared at Sam as realization came at her like one of Jake’s baseballs, effectively knocking the wind from her lungs. “The question about the gun…you think I…how could you…?”

Contrition showed bright in Sam’s warm brown eyes. “It’s just routine. You had an altercation with the man prior to his murder.”

“So that makes me guilty of killing him?” she asked, her voice rising. “Sam, you’ve known me my whole life.”

Becca stepped forward. “There’s more, Colleen. We really need your cooperation.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she stated.

Her mind whirled with story angles and possible suspects in Chief O’Brien’s murder. She had to get out on the street and find out who had killed Neil.

“Then we’ll need to read you your rights and then take you to the station,” Becca said softly.

“Read me my rights?” Panic slithered up her spine. She felt as if she’d somehow walked into a B movie and wasn’t able to follow the plot line. “What are you saying?”

“Colleen Montgomery, you’re under arrest for the murder of Neil O’Brien….”

“What are you doing here?”

Alessandro halted at his cousin Sam’s harshly asked question. He’d come to the police station as soon as he heard they’d arrested Colleen.

Not for the first time, Alessandro wished he could confide in his cousin that they were on the same side.

But he couldn’t.

The fewer people privy to such information, the better. For their sakes as well as for his own.

“Colleen Montgomery had nothing to do with Neil O’Brien’s death.”

Sam raised a brow. “Do you have proof of this?”

Knowing his words would mean little to nothing to the detective, Alessandro stated, “Your evidence is circumstantial at best.”

“That’s for her lawyer to prove,” Sam retorted.

Frustration tightened in Alessandro’s gut. “You can’t believe she did this.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. I have to follow the law.”

Not above using their familial connection, Alessandro lowered his voice and said, “Cousin, I know you have no reason to trust me. But trust yourself. You know Colleen wouldn’t hurt anyone. She is being framed. Think for a moment. The articles she has been writing lately on the escalating drug trade…the fires…someone wants her stopped. And I know who it is.”

Sam grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into an interrogation room and shut the door. “You better tell me what you know, Cousin .”

“Baltasar Escalante is not dead.”

Sam gave him a droll look. “Really. And you know this…how?”

Alessandro ground his teeth together. He couldn’t reveal his source of information without blowing his own cover. “You’ll have to trust me.”

Sam snorted. “As you said, I have no reason to trust you.”

Regret for the image he’d been forced to cultivate in order to work his way closer to Escalante’s people stabbed him in the chest. “I can’t explain how I know. He is back.”

Sam shook his head. “We’d have spotted him.”

This time Alessandro shook his head. “He has had plastic surgery.”

Sam scoffed. “You can’t expect me to go to my superiors with this without any proof or any corroborating evidence. I’d be laughed off the force.”

Sam opened the door and walked back into the hall.

Anger burned in Alessandro’s chest. He had to find Escalante and bring him down before he destroyed any more lives.

Including Colleen’s.

“Thank you, Jake, Adam. I love you guys.” Colleen hugged each brother and sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward for the devotion of her family.

As soon as she’d reached the police station she’d called Jake. She was confident that as an FBI agent, he would know what to do. Her brothers had arrived within the hour with a lawyer in tow.

They’d agreed to tell their parents after they had Colleen released. A terrific idea as far as she was concerned. Frank Montgomery would chew some hide inside and out as it was when he found out that Colleen had been arrested. At least this way they could protect Sam and Becca until Frank cooled down.

“That’s what big brothers are for.” Jake shrugged and grinned while adjusting his conservative red tie. He dressed the role of FBI agent nicely in a navy suit and black wingtip shoes. “Getting our little sister out of scrapes is what we do.”

“I don’t think this qualifies as a scrape,” Adam said, concern clouding his eyes. As a doctor, Adam dressed more casually in tan pants and an oxford dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“You’re right,” Jake agreed, his expression turning somber. “This was a frame. Someone’s out to get you.”

Colleen frowned. “Who? Why? That doesn’t make any sense.” Though deep inside, a nagging feeling that they were right clamored for her attention.

Obviously someone disliked her enough to want to implicate her in Neil’s death. Her reporter’s brain raced toward possible reasons why someone would be out to get her.

Could her suppositions that the hospital fire, the Montgomery Construction fire and the Double V Ranch fire were all somehow connected be on track? The timing of the fires had been way too coincidental and too specific to the Vance and Montgomery families. Had her report on the recent increase in drug activity since the mayor’s shooting stirred some hornet’s nest? But whose? The mysterious El Jefe , who reportedly had been contacting Escalante’s old contacts? No one seemed to be able to identify the new would-be drug lord in town.

“I should have remembered to pick up my scarf when I left last night,” she mused.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up for something you had no control over,” Jake said.

The door to the small windowless, mirrored room opened and Craig Smith, her lawyer, walked in. His pinstripe suit and shiny black shoes made him look professional, but his youthful face made Colleen jittery. She only hoped her brother was right when he’d assured her that, though Craig was young, he was good.

Pushing up the wire-rimmed glasses that seemed to constantly be sliding down his straight nose, Craig said, “I’ve had a talk with the D.A. and he agrees that the evidence they have isn’t enough to charge you with Neil O’Brien’s murder.”

“So I can go?” Colleen asked.

She couldn’t wait to get home and start working on the O’Brien case. And continue her research on Alessandro, the latter for purely professional reasons. It had nothing to do with the fact that the Italian man intrigued her. She had to stay objective and report just the facts, no matter what her own personal feelings were.

Which, where Alessandro was concerned, were confusing.

She liked him, yet didn’t completely trust him. But not for any real reason—she’d exonerated him in her mind from the attempt on Mayor Max’s life—but she knew he was keeping secrets.

Anyone who kept their own child a secret had to be involved in something sketchy.

Craig said, “Yes. I would advise you not to leave town, because at the moment, you’re considered a ‘person of interest’ in the case.”

“I don’t have any plans to go anywhere.” Colleen marched past the men and headed out the door.

Behind her she heard her brothers thanking Craig, but her gaze was captured by the tall man standing at the end of the hall, talking with Sam. Her heart plummeted. Oh, no.

She hurried toward the two men. “Sam, you can’t think Alessandro had anything to do with Neil’s death?” she exclaimed as she skidded to a halt.

The tender smile she received from Alessandro sent her heartbeat into overdrive. “No worries, cara .”

Sam snorted. “The man came to say you had nothing to do with Neil’s murder.”

Colleen blinked. “Really?”

Warmth gushed through her like water from a broken dam. She didn’t know what to think of Alessandro’s chivalrous actions. She gazed up at him, looked deep into his dark eyes, and for a moment the buzz of the police station dimmed.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement before shifting his gaze past her, effectively breaking the mesmerizing hold he’d had on her and leaving her slightly off balance.

“What’s he doing here?” Adam demanded from behind her.

Colleen rolled her eyes and grimaced. Her brothers were doing the he-man routine again.

“Believe it or not, he came to defend your sister,” Sam stated, clearly enjoying Colleen’s discomfort, if the smirk he gave her was any indication.

Heat crept up her neck. She could just imagine the expressions on her brothers’ faces. She didn’t want to turn around and see the incredulity or the skepticism.

They would never believe Alessandro had come because he cared about her. Come to think of it, she didn’t believe he’d come for that reason, either. So why had he?

That was a question she was determined to answer. Along with several others. But first she had to get out of here and away from the stifling, protective cover of her family. “Alessandro, would you be willing to give me a ride home?”

“What!” Jake and Adam both exclaimed.

Colleen kept her back to her brothers and waited for Alessandro to respond. His dark eyebrows rose slightly as his gaze shifted back to her.

She held her breath, hoping he’d say yes and wondering how she’d live down the embarrassment if he said no.

FOUR

M amma mia! He’d stepped in a minefield by coming to the police station. But Alessandro couldn’t seem to muster up enough panic as Colleen’s blue eyes bored into his. He knew if he agreed to take her home, he’d alienate her brothers even more. And his cousin.

But it would sustain his cover as the playboy accountant.

Besides, he sensed there was more going on here than a simple ride. She obviously had something to prove to her brothers and if he could accommodate her, so be it.

It wasn’t as though he had any romantic feelings, despite his admiration of her. He had no plans to go down that particular path again.

“Bella?” Alessandro offered her his arm.

Relief shone bright in her gaze. She slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Thank you.”

She turned to her brothers. “I’ll talk with you later.”

“You can’t leave with him,” Jake sputtered.

“See ya.” She tugged at Alessandro’s arm as she moved forward.

Amused, Alessandro could only give the three men glaring at him a shrug that said “What can I say? She wants me.” “Ciao.”

“Colleen Montgomery, you come back here,” Adam demanded.

Colleen’s steps quickened and Alessandro lengthened his stride. “ Bella , I think you’ve made your brothers angry.”

“They’ll get over it,” she said as he pushed open the glass doors for her. She didn’t let go of his arm as they stepped into the sunshine. “Where’s your car?”

“There.” He pointed to the small red convertible parked at the curb.

Her eyes widened and then she grinned. “Cool.”

“You are such a delight, bella ,” he said as he opened the door for her to slide into the passenger seat. Her enthusiasm lifted his mood.

He rounded the car to the driver’s side and climbed in, then secured his seat belt and turned to her. “Home?”

“Breakfast?” Her blue eyes twinkled.

Ah. So there was more to this than a mere ride.

“Whatever you wish,” he stated.

He gunned the engine and sped away from the police station. In his rearview mirror he saw her brothers had come out the doors and were watching them drive away. The urge to put his arm around her shoulders was more than he could resist. “Where to?”

She glanced at his outstretched arm lightly resting across the tops of her shoulders. “The Stagecoach. Of course.”

With a grin, he drove through the morning traffic and turned onto South Cascade Avenue in the heart of downtown Colorado Springs. With over a half a million in population in the metro area, the town bustled with activity. Between residents going about their everyday lives and tourists come to enjoy the beauty of the town nestled beneath Pikes Peak, the downtown offered something for everyone.

For the avid reader, the stunning branch of the Pikes Peak Library District was within walking distance from countless relaxing reading spots. Many times over the years Colleen had spent time in one of the many lush parks, working on a story or sitting in a coffee shop among the thriving businesses and apartment buildings of the main thoroughfare.

After removing his arm from around her, Alessandro slipped the car into a parking spot in front of the charming red barnlike structure that claimed to serve the best apple pie this side of the Rockies.

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