Stalking Colton's Family
Author
Geri Krotow
Reads
18,3K
Chapters
25
Chapter 1
Rachel Colton stared at her infant daughter Iris’s innocent face, soaking all the cuteness up from her bright red wisps of hair to her adorable chin. “I love you, darling daughter, but you’re making me late for work. Again.”
With an expertise she hadn’t had before Iris’s birth six months ago, Rachel cleaned up the dirty diaper—or more accurately, the contents of said item that had messed up her only clean going-to-court suit—as she spoke to the most important person in her life.
Iris Colton, the wonder baby who’d surprised everyone with her appearance—Rachel included. Those first few moments of realizing she was pregnant last year had been some of the most trying of her life. And yet, here she stood, getting through another morning with Iris, facing another day as Blue Larkspur’s brand-new district attorney after several years as assistant DA. There wasn’t one minute that went by that Rachel didn’t feel the weight of both her job and motherhood on her shoulders. But being Iris’s mom was, hands down, the best job she’d ever had.
“Ba ba.” Iris’s chubby, six-month-old cheeks puffed out as she babbled and melted all of Rachel’s irritation away. She’d come to think of Iris as her “joy baby” because her precious daughter brought her a heaping heartful of happiness each day. Being a new mother was like that—one minute Rachel had no idea how she’d get through the next hour; the next, she wanted to stop time and revel in her joy baby forever.
“We both need to clean up, Iris girl.” She held Iris out at arm’s length and carried her to the changing table, where she made quick work of getting the infant back into a clean outfit. The sound of the back kitchen door closing alerted her that Iris’s nanny had arrived.
“We’re back here, Emily!” She smiled at Iris and made silly sounds to keep the baby from squirming until Emily’s smiling face appeared at the door of the nursery. Not for the first time, an immense wave of gratitude pulsed through her heart. Emily was the perfect nanny for her baby and had come at the highest recommendation of her mother, Isadora Colton, and her older sister, Morgan. Isa’s best friend’s granddaughter had Emily as her nanny for her first three years, and Morgan’s friend had also employed Emily for a few months before eventually taking a break from her career to stay home. Emily’s skills and gifted ability to handle young children put her in high demand in Blue Larkspur. She came with the highest levels of recommendation. Rachel wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Good morning, ladies. Oh my.” Emily’s gaze took in Iris’s and Rachel’s appearances, from the ruined suit to the soiled onesie on top of the hamper.
“She had a major blowout. I’ll put the dirty clothes in the laundry, then I have to do a quick change myself.”
“Here, let me take her.” Emily reached for Iris at the same moment Iris lifted her arms to greet her nanny. Rachel’s heart swelled with relief alongside bittersweet longing. It was a gift to have such a loving, kind nanny for Iris, someone she trusted her daughter with for her often twelve-hour days. But the reassurance of wonderful childcare did nothing to ease the sense of her heart being torn from her chest each time she left her precious girl, knowing she’d invariably miss out on some milestones. It also bothered her that Iris was lacking in the father department, but at least her brother Gideon was a superb uncle and around a lot, most often with Sophia, the love of his life. They’d recently reunited, and the entire Colton family was thrilled for them. Sophia was a pediatrician and both she and Gideon were hoping for a family of their own soon, which would give Iris her first cousin. Rachel had five other brothers in her total of eleven other Colton siblings, but between their jobs and own lives, Gideon remained the one she relied upon most.
It had been a cruel blow to find out that her one-night stand at a legal conference in Helena, Montana, was unavailable to be a responsible father. Rachel had learned the cold, hard truth when she’d tried to call Iris’s father, and instead of him answering or being put through to voice mail, another woman who’d identified herself as his fiancée had answered. Which meant he’d most likely been in that committed relationship during their Montana fling.
Rachel had decided on the spot that it was better for all involved that he went on with his own life, and she with hers. The last thing she was willing to do was risk her baby’s emotional stability and sense of security with a part-time parent. She’d tucked him away as a bad memory, a mistake, except for the gift of her joy baby. No way would she ever reveal the name of her child’s father to her family. Her brothers were protective and wouldn’t hesitate to find the man and make his life miserable. Not that she thought of her brothers as criminal stalkers or anything; they were simply very typical brothers who didn’t take kindly to anyone messing with their family.
Besides, James Kiriakis had shown more of his true colors the morning after their night of passion; all he’d talked about was the high-profile firm he worked for and how he prided himself on winning his corporate litigations. She remembered the regret that had pierced through the incredible chemistry they’d shared only hours earlier. James’s ego-driven boasting had reminded her too much of the worst parts of her father, the long-deceased Ben Colton. As a judge, her father had taken the Blue Larkspur, Colorado, community for every nickel he could, supplementing his legal income with kickbacks from sending offenders of all ages to detention centers. It still stung, twenty years later, that her father had been dirty.
Which validated why Iris didn’t need James for a father.
You’ve got to stop assuming every man is like Dad.
True, but the discovery of her father’s nefarious undertakings when he was a judge was a long shadow to not only outrun but a deep wound in the community that she was determined to help heal. Her eleven siblings and she had formed the Truth Foundation for this very reason. Now that she was DA, she’d had to recuse herself from the foundation’s work, but there was plenty she could do for Blue Larkspur at the most basic levels. Getting the real criminals locked up while ensuring the innocent got the rehabilitation they needed was a good start.
“I’m going to make you proud to be a Colton, Iris.” She spoke to the quiet as she stripped out of the pale gray sheath dress she particularly liked for the way it complemented her figure. As she changed her attire, she tried to ignore the now-familiar struggle to leave her precious infant for another full day at the office.
Iris is safe. I have a good job to support both of us. Our family has our backs. We have Emily.
And that was the crux of it. Emily Chase was the nanny Rachel only would have dared dreamed of, not actually believed existed when she’d been pregnant and the realities of becoming a single parent were sinking in. The last fifteen months had been the most trying yet happiest time of her life. Becoming a single parent had never been on her list of life goals when she’d decided to pursue the law but neither had learning about true love and commitment—in the form of wide-eyed Iris—been the remotest possibility for her.
A text lit up her phone.
Where are you?
Her assistant, Clara, had gotten into the habit of checking on her if she was more than a minute past her self-appointed show-up time for court. Before Iris, arriving thirty minutes early had been an easy parameter to meet. Since becoming a mother, however, she’d scraped the time down with only a handful of minutes to spare.
This morning was going to push that to the limit. She wrestled with a sleeveless shell and skirt, her skin slick with stress sweat. Her ob-gyn assured her that the excess perspiration from hormonal changes while she was breastfeeding Iris was temporary. But being overheated and feeling as though she was always disheveled never left. As if she was just shy of the professionalism she’d taken for granted before Iris.
A soft groan escaped her throat as she threw together the outfit on the fly, grabbing a bracelet while shoving her feet into too-high heels that were the only match for the navy blue.
She forced herself to get her mind focused on work. Emily had Iris; it was okay. Did all new mothers have to reassure themselves like this, all day long?
No wonder Mom stayed home with us in the beginning.
Her mother was an accomplished graphic designer these days but had devoted many years to full-time homemaking. Before her husband’s crimes had been exposed and their family driven to near bankruptcy.
As assistant DA, she’d relished putting away the crooks her father had wheeled-and-dealed with years before. Now, as DA, she spent most days proving the culpability of local losers. Her commitment to Blue Larkspur ran as deep as the Colton blood that coursed through her veins.
She was able to serve on her current case only because she’d taken the necessary steps to legally detach herself from the family’s Truth Foundation, formed to right the wrongs of Ben Colton. It was imperative that she resign from the nonprofit a few years back, so that she could avoid a conflict of interest to be able to serve as a public prosecutor. But a disgruntled judge or pushy defense attorney could derail her goal to get a crook who’d worked with her father behind bars. That was the thing about the law that Rachel both loved and detested. Justice had to serve all.
Which meant she needed to keep it as professional as possible and show up on time. Today’s defendant had made hundreds of thousands of dollars in kickbacks before Ben Colton had died. She’d refrained from investigating him when she was part of the Truth Foundation, of course, but his time was up, now that she was DA. The crook, Brian Parson, had earned enough from the rig he and Ben had set up to support his family with the dirty money for the last twenty years, not to mention all he’d earned as the area drug boss. The Truth Foundation had been supportive of the DA’s relentless pursuit of Parson, sitting on its hands so as to not jeopardize the DA’s prosecution. It wasn’t the first case the Truth Foundation had needed to scale back on, in support of the legal system. Because Rachel had been meticulous about remaining legally unattached to the Parson case, it allowed her to prosecute now, as DA. She relished bringing Parson down. It was time he paid the price.
But he wouldn’t if Rachel was late—today’s judge was a stickler for promptness and wouldn’t hesitate to delay, or worse, throw the case out if she appeared at all unprepared. And what was more evident of piss-poor prep than tardiness?
She hit the speed dial to her assistant.
“Yes, ma’am? Are you here?” Clara’s voice was smooth, but she detected a lilt of anxiety.
“No, but I will be. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“That takes it to—”
“One minute before showtime. I know. I’ll be there.”
She disconnected and prayed she’d make it.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
James Kiriakis let out a sigh as he stared in aggravation at the large mechanical arm lowering in front of the hood of his black BMW, preventing him from crossing the railroad track before what appeared to be an endless line of shipping containers began to click by. Blue Larkspur, Colorado, was nothing like Denver. He’d mistakenly thought the traffic would be a breeze after the constant congestion in the state capital. Wrong assumption, on all fronts. Blue Larkspur was tiny compared to the state capital but mighty in its desire to get to work on time.
He sent a quick hands-free, voice-activated text to the paralegal he was meeting at the courthouse, his fingers in a death clench on the steering wheel. He frantically used his rearview and side-view mirrors, the action automatic at this point as his heart pounded in time to his spike in stress. James was certain he was awash in cortisol as his body poised for yet another nasty confrontation.
There were no signs that he’d been followed by the one person he was running from. The main reason he’d left Denver, truth be told. It didn’t stop the hairs on his nape from rising, though. Since he’d departed the city, the nasty sense that he was being watched, followed, stalked hadn’t lifted. No matter how much he reassured himself that no way could Bethany Austin know he’d moved, had cleared out his high-rise condo and sold it for a tidy profit.
Could she?
“Relax. You’ve left it all behind.” He did the box breathing he’d read about, the method used by navy SEALs. It eased some of the tension in his shoulders, which only seemed to allow the flow of nagging thoughts back into his mind.
It had to be his tardiness that was making him so much on edge. He’d taken all the steps to excise himself from the hellish predicament he’d lived through these past months. Yet as he continued to watch his rearview mirror, he noticed as a vehicle six cars back pulled out of the waiting traffic, made a quick U-Turn and sped off. His gut tightened at the familiar action and he gripped the wheel to pull himself closer to the rearview mirror, tried to make out the license plate on the unfamiliar car that didn’t even resemble Bethany’s. It was a blur. Probably for the best. What would he do with it if he was able to discern the plate’s letters and numbers? Tell the police he thought an unknown vehicle was occupied by his stalker when he hadn’t been able to see the driver?
He sucked in another breath, held it, let it go. Disappointment thumped against his chest, under his sternum. How foolish was he to think he’d rid himself of the awfulness of being stalked with one move?
You’re just stressed because you’re going to be late.
It wasn’t like him to be late to anything, ever. But since he’d hit an emotional bottom in his personal life—thanks to stalker Bethany—he found himself questioning everything from his ability to discern fact from fiction, to real emotion from passing illusion. It all boiled down to the fact that he’d lived the life of a victim—had been a victim—something that, as a six-foot-one former college athlete, he wasn’t accustomed to. But Bethany, the woman he’d briefly and most casually dated—they hadn’t gone to bed, hadn’t gone past two dinner dates—had turned out to be a stalker extraordinaire.
He’d ended it with her, made it clear they were going to be a friends-only deal, right after he got back from a legal conference in Montana. After he’d spent one incredible night with a woman who made him rethink his personal creed to remain single for at least a while longer. Bethany and he had had zero commitment. He’d only agreed to go out on that second and last date because she’d surprised him at his apartment, telling him how much she’d missed him while he was gone. Her nearly frantic behavior raised red flags that night. So he’d called it off. But Bethany never heard anything she didn’t want to. He’d been forced to get a restraining order only a month later, but her chilling antics had continued for the next eight months. He’d put up with a stalker for almost a year.
A stalker. He still struggled with it, that he had his own personal harasser.
He’d dealt with ugly scenes before, when he’d stopped dating someone. But he soon found Bethany Austin wasn’t any run-of-the-mill, bitter-that-the-relationship-is-over pursuer. Her methods to get his attention had accelerated into Mach speed without lingering in any manageable area within two days of him telling her that they were no longer even friends. From showing up unannounced at his office to breaking into his condo with a key and digital codes she’d bribed from the doorman—now fired—she’d shattered James’s sense of well-being.
His repeated pleas that she seek medical attention for her obvious issues hadn’t worked. But even after he’d been forced to get a restraining order, Bethany had still found ways to tail him. Showing up at restaurants, retail stores, recreational parks, always unannounced. She was careful to always maintain the exact distance needed from him so that he couldn’t report her presence as a violation of the restraining order but made certain he saw her.
If he hadn’t found this new job in Blue Larkspur, he’d have gone back to court to tighten the order’s restrictions against her. Bethany wanted more than any man could give her, in his opinion. She’d wanted to be in a committed relationship with James after one date, so he’d immediately backed off, insisted they be friends. No matter how much she assured him that she “got it” and only wanted his friendship, no strings attached, it became clear within days that Bethany saw James as the sole object of her affections.
Affection that had turned creepy in a Denver minute.
Getting Bethany physically out of his life didn’t keep her from occupying his mental and emotional space, though.
He blamed himself for her continued harassment; he should have pressed charges each time she broke the restraining order or did any one of myriad definite stalking actions. His empathy for her distress, his guilt that maybe, somehow, he’d encouraged her, had always won out.
James was counting on a new setting, miles and hours from Bethany, to allow him to finally let go of the constant fight-or-flight drain on his adrenals. That’s what his personal trainer had said was wearing him out and flooding his nervous system with cortisol.
He shifted in his seat, stretched his back. James didn’t discount that theory, but the observation had struck a chord. Bethany had wormed her way into the most dangerous parts of his mind, the neighborhoods no one should ever wander in alone. Her stalking ignited his most primal defensive behaviors. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t bothered him for months. Some crimes leave deeper scars than others, and invisible marks can be worse.
Which is why he’d taken so many precautions as he left Denver to prevent Bethany from being able to track him, follow him to Blue Larkspur. She’d always found him in the past, though, was always able to worm her way around any security he’d put in place. It was easy to tell himself that being haunted by Bethany would never end.
Enough.
He was in the midst of his new start, free from Bethany and all the baggage her actions brought with them. He raised the volume on his stereo, allowed his favorite band to drown out any unwanted thoughts.
Today was the first day of week two at a premier Blue Larkspur litigation firm, where he’d accepted a not-unimpressive position that practically guaranteed he’d make partner in short order. Otherwise, would he have ever before considered moving out of Denver, quitting the high-pressure, highly successful job he’d worked, representing major corporations for the past decade, where partnership had been offered only three months ago?
He knew he wouldn’t have. He’d fought a deep internal battle and decided to turn down the partnership. Bethany’s continued and escalating exploits continued to haunt him, even months after she appeared to have given up on him. A change in address was a good solution. He had his family’s support, and that was the deciding factor for James.
His mom, Helen Kiriakis, and his siblings were all close, as his father had died when James was six years old. The Kiriakis clan took care of its own. That said, they all agreed that short of them becoming vigilantes against Bethany, James’s move was a smart response.
He’d been eager to transition here anyway. The hustle and bustle of Denver was getting to him, and while he still opted to live in a contemporary luxury condo in Blue Larkspur, he was trading big-city life for more of a quiet-city vibe.
And there’s a certain district attorney in Blue Larkspur who caught your vibes fifteen months ago.
He ignored his heart’s musings. Rachel Colton had refused all of his calls after they’d shared an incredible night together at a Helena, Montana, legal conference. It’d been all over the state news last month that she’d been recently appointed to Lark’s County DA, remarkable for her young but solid career. The Colorado bar association’s professional periodical had done an impressive profile on her, and when he saw her stunning features beaming out from the page-sized glossy photo his heart had raced. As if they’d shared more than an evening.
He’d been disappointed to read through and see that it included zero personal information. Why he was still thinking about this woman, though, when she hadn’t taken his calls was beyond him. He had to blame this one on the stress of being stalked. Why else, when she’d patently ghosted him, would he allow his mind to flash back to their incendiary night? He couldn’t deny that she’d cut him off. Or blame her, for that matter. They didn’t even know each other, and it had been the classic one-night stand, on paper. What gnawed at him was how harsh her rejection felt. How hard is it to answer, or at least text, with a “sorry, not interested”?
Besides, for all he knew, Rachel could have turned out to be a stalker, too.
No.
He wasn’t going to allow the situation with Bethany to mar his entire future, shadow every thought he ever had about another woman. He’d finished dating Bethany before he’d connected with Rachel. In all his past one-nighters, he’d thought of them as hookups, and as much as he respected great sex, he never expected more. James wanted nothing to do with a permanent relationship until he’d made his mark in the world and he knew his career was solid. He’d been feeling a sense of missing out on what was important as he saw his siblings and close friends get hitched, have kids. That was why he’d tried to get in touch with Rachel after their too-brief connection in Montana. Rachel had struck him as more than a one-nighter. Maybe, daresay, the kind of woman he’d be willing to be committed to.
“All in the past, buddy.” But it wasn’t. Not in his mind, anyway.
He shifted in his leather bucket seat at the mere memory of that night. James was great at putting unwanted thoughts and distractions aside from whatever the task at hand, but his body had never forgotten the pleasure the beautiful Rachel Colton had gifted it with.
He’d been unable to shake the sense that Rachel had been different from every woman he’d met before. James snorted, then all-out laughed at himself, banging his palms on the steering wheel.
Why did he think he was an exception to human behavior? He’d still been emotionally vulnerable after evading Bethany and wanted some companionship. That’s why the time with Rachel was still imprinted on his mind. Nothing more.
She lives in Blue Larkspur. Had nothing to do with why he’d picked here for his relocation. It’d been more about the first job offer that would allow him to escape Denver. Okay, mostly. All right, there was some hope that if he let Rachel know he’d moved here, she might bite.
It still bothered the heck out of him that he’d basically been chased from his own life. And yet, he’d also grown tired of his job as he’d done it for so long. It was time for a change.
The train cleared and he tried to clear all thoughts of women out of his mind as he made the last half mile to the courthouse. Not willing to chance there’d be an open spot available in the main, smaller courthouse parking lot, he parked in a garage a block away and sprinted, laptop bag slung over his shoulder, to the front steps. He zigzagged between people also heading to the same single entrance.
Exhilaration pumped through his veins as he hit the top level, skidded to a—
Bam!
“What the—” A female voice continued into a rather succinct, albeit quiet, stream of profanity that would have made James laugh if he wasn’t doing all he could to remain upright, to keep from landing on his ass or worse, atop this stranger. His efforts were futile, and it was with horror that he realized he couldn’t stop his fall.
Fortunately his hands landed on either side of the person he’d slammed into, and as his knees hit the unforgiving stone ground, he didn’t know what was more surprising: the searing pain of marble-on-kneecap or the sexiest blue eyes he’d ever known staring up at him in complete shock.
“Rachel.” Her name came out on the whoosh of air that expelled from his lungs.
“James?” Her intense gaze jolted him back to their time in Helena, to when she’d begged him to be this close. To when he’d wondered where she’d been all his life. Sure, he’d expected their paths might cross ever since he’d searched for her on the Internet, when he’d wondered why she was completely icing him out. And he’d all but decided to look her up. But literally running into her wasn’t part of his plan.
She never returned your calls or texts.
Not. One.
Even the harsh reminder couldn’t make him move, stand up, walk away from Rachel Colton and get to work.
Work. His new job.
“Aw, crap.”
