Colters' Woman (36 page)

“For our daughter. For loving me. For doing so much to keep us safe. She was born exactly where she needed to be born. She’ll grow up a part of the very land she breathed her first breath.”

Ethan and Ryan hovered close as Adam held her while they waited for the helicopter to land in the meadow. Callie’s Meadow.

And Holly was right. No little girl was ever loved more than Callie Colter. She grew up a free spirit, but she was always guided by the fierce love of her family and their unwavering loyalty.

About the Author

To learn more about Maya Banks please visit
www.mayabanks.com
. Send an email to Maya at
[email protected]
.

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Coming Soon:

Colters’ Lady

Colters’ Daughter

Can their love give her the strength to overcome the tragedy in her past?

Colters’ Lady

© 2010 Maya Banks

Colters’ Legacy, Book Two.

When police officer Seth Colter sees the delicate, shabbily dressed beauty in line at the soup kitchen where he’s serving, he’s gut shot over the idea of her being on the streets cold and alone. More baffling is the dark, possessive instinct that tells him she belongs to him.

For Lily Weston, home is a secluded nook in a back alley—until Seth offers her a place to stay. She’s wary of his offer, but even one night out of the cold is too much temptation to resist.

Seth is convinced Lily is his. The problem is, when his brothers lay eyes on her, the same primitive instinct comes roaring to the surface. The Colters never imagined they’d follow the unconventional path of their fathers, but they can’t ignore their mutual need to offer Lily their protection—and their love. But before Lily and the brothers can forge a future together, they must heal the deep wounds of her past.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Colters’ Lady:

Seth Colter walked into the soup kitchen and was greeted by a chorus of hellos from several police officers from his precinct.

“Hey man, I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Craig Sumner called.

Seth cracked a smile, surprised at how glad he was to see the guys he’d worked with for the past few years. “I said I would be here.”

“How are you feeling?” Rob Morgan asked as he slapped Seth on the back.

“Better,” Seth acknowledged, and for the first time in weeks, he realized it was the truth. He
did
feel better. He’d been sleeping better lately, and his dreams weren’t so littered with the images of a faceless gunman and the exploding pain of a bullet tearing through his shoulder.

“Hey, that’s great. You’ll be back before you know it,” Craig said.

Seth nodded. Yeah, he’d be back. He hated being away from the job. He hated being away from the camaraderie of his fellow cops. For the first while, he’d sequestered himself in his apartment, refusing visitors. He hadn’t wanted their pity. He’d resented the hell out of the fact that they were still on the job and he was stuck in his apartment popping pain pills and hoping he regained the use of his arm.

“What do you want me to do?” Seth asked.

Craig threw him an apron. “Get behind the serving line. We open in fifteen minutes. And hurry. Margie runs a tight ship.”

“I heard that.”

Seth turned to see a small, gray-haired lady standing behind him, her green eyes bathed in warmth.

“Hello, Seth.” She stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you again. Are you taking care of yourself?”

She patted him on the cheek for good measure, and he smiled as he returned her embrace.

“I’m good, Margie. How about yourself?”

“Oh, I’m the same as ever. Busy. Just how I like it. Now you better get to your station before I open the doors. Looks like we have a lot of folks lined up to eat today.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a grin.

“See?” Craig said. “She’s a complete slave driver.”

Feeling lighter than he had in a while, Seth tied on the white chef’s apron and walked behind the buffet to stand in front of the baked chicken.

“Smells good, Margie. Who did you harangue into catering for you this time?” Seth asked.

She grinned. “I called in a favor. Or two.”

He laughed. Margie Walker was simply good people. She was a surrogate mother to many, but beneath the good-as-gold exterior lay a hard-driving woman who didn’t think twice about leaning on people to help her causes. Her pet project was Margie’s Place. Simply named but it was appropriate. Every day, rain or shine, she opened her doors to the homeless and she always had enough food to feed as many as filtered through her doors. No one was entirely sure how she managed it, but she always did.

His precinct routinely volunteered and they worked in shifts. Seth and five others came in once a month to serve, although for him it had been three months since he’d last been in.

“Okay guys, I’m opening up,” Margie called as she walked over to the doors.

For the next two hours, a steady stream of people came through the line. Workers from the kitchen brought out more food as soon as the trays emptied, and the guys dished it up.

The flow had dwindled when Seth looked up to see the most startling pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen in his life. In the process of extending the pair of tongs with a piece of chicken, he stared in shock at the woman standing in front of him, small hands gripped tightly around the dinner tray.

There was something infinitely fragile about her and equally arresting. His gut tightened, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. Or maybe he was unable to.

Dressed in a shabby, worn sweater and a pair of jeans so faded they were nearly white, the woman stared back at him, wispy midnight curls escaping the knit cap she wore.

She was beautiful. And haunting. Her gaze looked wounded and faint smudges rimmed her eyes. A fierce surge of protectiveness welled up inside him, baffling him.

Her fingers tightened around the tray, and she started to move forward without the chicken he still held in the air like an idiot. He thrust it forward onto her plate.

Then she smiled, and it took what little breath he had left and squeezed it painfully from his lungs.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly.

She moved down the line as a man moved into the spot where she’d stood and looked expectantly at Seth. Still staring after the woman, Seth slapped the next piece of chicken on the man’s tray and wondered what the hell had just happened here.

He watched as she sat away from the others, finding a corner where there were only two chairs at a tiny table that looked out a window.

“Hey, snap out of it.”

Seth turned to see Craig standing beside him, his apron in hand.

“Margie’s ordering us to stand down and eat. Grab a plate and join us. She has one of the kitchen workers taking over the line in case we have any stragglers.”

Feeling anything but hungry, Seth fixed a plate and followed his friends to a table on the far side of the room. There wasn’t a lot of talking going on. Most of the people ate in silence, though there were a few conversations from some of the regulars who knew each other or hung out together on the streets.

He positioned himself so he could see the woman and tuned out the rest of the goings-on so he could watch her and take in every detail he could.

She ate daintily and never looked up or made eye contact with any of the others. When she wasn’t looking down at her food she fixed her gaze out the window, watching the people pass on the busy street. There was something wistful about her stare, and again, that protective surge came roaring to the surface.

“Who is she?” he blurted out.

“Who is who?” Craig asked.

Rob looked up and followed Seth’s gaze. “You mean her?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen her before but it’s been a few months. When did she start coming in?”

Craig shrugged. “I haven’t seen her before. She wasn’t here last month. Maybe she’s new. Margie would know. She keeps up with everyone.”

Seth frowned, not liking the tired look on the woman’s face. She was young, early twenties, far too young to be out on the streets. Spring in Denver was often harsh with copious amounts of snow. She was so slight, and all she had was that sweater and a cap. She’d freeze to death.

“What’s bugging you, man?” Rob asked.

Seth shook his head. “Nothing.”

Seth forced himself to eat but watched the woman as the other people finished their meal and began to filter out. She remained, even after she’d finished eating. She pushed her plate to the side and rested her chin on the top of her fist as she continued to gaze out the window.

He cursed when one of the kitchen workers came over to collect her plate, because even though the worker didn’t say anything to the woman, the action prompted her to rise. She looked guiltily around as if she thought she’d overstayed her welcome, and then she hurried toward the door without a backward glance.

Before he realized it, he was on his feet and hurrying after her. It wasn’t something he could even explain. He had to go after her. He had to know where she was going, if she was safe.

Ignoring Rob and Craig’s startled exclamations, he strode out onto the street and looked left and right to see the direction she’d gone. Seeing her retreating figure to the right, he set off after her.

He kept his distance, not wanting to spook her. He felt like a damned stalker, and maybe that’s what he was. There was no reasonable explanation for his pursuit of her. It certainly had nothing to do with his cop’s instincts. He’d reacted to her as a man, and something about her called to a part of him that hadn’t ever awoken before.

For six blocks he followed her. His hands were clenched at his sides. She had no sense of self-preservation. She never looked up, never looked back to make sure she wasn’t followed. She blended seamlessly with the busy downtown crowd, and he quickened his step so he wouldn’t lose her.

He slowed when she turned into an alleyway. His approach was cautious. The last thing he wanted was to walk into a damn trap. He turned the corner and peered down to see her hunker down between two cardboard boxes. She disappeared from view and he stood there a moment, battling between anger and…he wasn’t sure.

He hadn’t wanted her to be homeless. He’d hoped that she was down on her luck and needed the free meal, but that she had a place to live, protection from the cold. Refuge from the streets that took lives every single day.

What about this woman fired such a response in him? In his job, he saw all manners of people. The hungry, the homeless, the abused. There were plenty of young women in need, but none had infused a soul-stirring desire to help and protect.

It was presumptuous of him. She might not need him. She might be just fine on her own, but something in her eyes told him that wasn’t so. She needed someone, and he wanted to be that person.

Crazy talk. He wondered now if that bullet had hit him in the head. But that didn’t stop him from walking with determined steps toward the boxes at the end of the alley.

When he was close enough to see the top of her head over the edge of one of the boxes, he saw that she was sitting cross-legged on what looked to be old towels, and she was absorbed in a tattered paperback book. After every page, she moved one of her hands from the book and held it to her mouth while she blew to warm it and then she returned to the book to turn another page.

His chest clenched and he moved a step closer. His foot glanced off a discarded Styrofoam cup, and her head jerked up. Alarm flashed in her eyes when she saw him, and she scrambled to her feet like a doe poised for flight.

In a lightning-fast move, he snagged her wrist just when she would have bolted. He was careful not to hurt her, only prevent her from fleeing.

A small cry of fright escaped her lips, and her eyes widened as she stared up at him.

“I’m sorry. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you, I swear it. Do you remember me from Margie’s Place? I just served you an hour ago.”

Though she didn’t relax, she nodded, her eyes still solidly trained on his face as if judging the validity of his promise not to hurt her.