LITMIR.BIZ

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Jackson thought about the undercurrents that had pulled at him while his mouth ravaged Cheyenne’s. Undercurrents, he reminded himself, had a habit of dragging in the unwary. He had spent his life avoiding just that.

      “Who?” Meredith asked. “Who told the police they saw you in the same spot as the person who shot at Joe?”

      “Actually, I told Law I was near that spot.”

      His aunt’s eyes widened. “You told him? Why?”

      “Because that’s where I happened to be,” Jackson said, giving her a mild look. “I’d cut through the service hallway to get a drink refill. I was there when I heard the shot.”

      Joe shook his head. “Did it occur to Law that hundreds of other people were milling around the house and courtyard that night?”

      “I pointed that out. It didn’t seem to make a difference.”

      “The man ought to stop harassing innocent people and find some real evidence.” As he spoke, Joe stabbed holes in the air with an index finger. “Like the gun the bastard used to take those shots at me. Find that, and you’ve got some real proof.”

      “I agree.” Jackson raised a shoulder. “Meanwhile, someone appears to want me as the scapegoat for the shootings. He or she has done one hell of a job of setting me up. I have a real problem with that.”

      “You’re not alone,” Joe huffed. “And we’re not going to stand for it.”

      “Of course we’re not,” Meredith said with a flip of her slender, flame-tipped fingers. “Jackson, pour us all a brandy. Joe, we need to get Jackson the best criminal lawyer money can buy.”

      Joe’s gaze shot up to meet hers, his brow creased in annoyance. “If you’re referring to our eldest son, I doubt Rand will send us a bill for services.”

      “It was just an expression, darling.”

      Jackson noted the way his aunt’s shoulders had gone rigid beneath her black jumpsuit. It was as if he could almost see the wall of tension shoot up between husband and wife.

      “I don’t need a lawyer.” Rising off the front of the desk, Jackson walked to the wet bar built into a small alcove between bookcases. He poured two snifters of brandy, reached for a third glass, then changed his mind. The last time he’d tasted alcohol was two weeks ago at Liza’s wedding reception. The one drink he’d had hit him like a ton of cement. He didn’t want to chance that happening again, especially now when he needed to keep a clear head.

      “At this point, I’m not charged with anything.” He crossed the room with the two snifters of brandy. “Yet,” he added as he offered a glass to his aunt.

      “It might be a good idea for me to call your cousin and put him on notice,” Joe said, accepting the snifter Jackson handed him. “Just in case.”

      “That’s not necessary,” Jackson said. “Rand has his hands full in D.C. trying criminal cases. Besides, there’s nothing for him to do, except tell Law his evidence isn’t solid enough to make an arrest. I already delivered the message.”

      Joe inclined his head Jackson’s way. “If you don’t feel like brandy, I can have Inez bring in coffee,” he said, referring to the longtime housekeeper.

      “No thanks.”

      “Bam! Bam!” The shouted words echoed off the high ceiling just outside the study. “You’re gut-shot, slime-ball!”

      Meredith rolled her eyes, then looked at Joe. “Those boys were supposed to be in bed an hour ago.”

      Joe’s mouth curved. “Sounds like another war interrupted their sleep. Joe! Teddy!” he said in a booming voice. “Get in here now!”

      Seconds later, two barefoot boys clad in camouflage pajamas and toting toy rifles skidded through the door side-by-side.

      “Yes, sir?” they asked in unison.

      Joe sent a stern look across the desk. “Your mother informs me you were supposed to be in bed an hour ago.”

      “Aw, Dad, we just needed to see who wins the war,” Joe, Jr. said, his sandy brown hair looking as if it had been combed by a hurricane.

      Jackson held back a smile. Nearly ten years ago, Joe, Jr. had been abandoned on the Coltons’ front porch. His uncle and aunt had taken in the infant and raised him as their own. As far as everyone was concerned, the kid was one hundred percent Colton.

      “Yeah, and I’m about to win,” Teddy boasted.

      Joe, Jr.’s gaze swung sideways, his green eyes flashing. “It’s not over till it’s over, as Mama always says,” he commented, then gave his mother a knowing grin.

      “I’m glad someone around here listens to me,” Meredith murmured, then checked her slim gold-and-diamond watch. “All right, you two, pay attention. The war must be won in five minutes or this general is calling a draw.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Teddy replied, giving her a military-precise salute. Shifting his gaze, the boy flashed Jackson a grin. “Hi ya, cousin.”

      “General Colton,” Jackson replied mildly. “It appears the war is going well for you.”

      “Yeah, I’m winning.”

      “Are not!”

      Jackson had known for three weeks that Teddy was the product of a one-night stand between his father and his aunt. Still, Jackson couldn’t quite get used to the idea that the mischievous eight-year-old standing before him with tousled blond hair and sparkling blue eyes was his half brother.

      The thought had Jackson glancing at his uncle in time to see Joe beam at both boys as they raced out of the study, their bare feet slapping against the wood floor.

      Years ago a bout of mumps had rendered his uncle sterile. What had it done to him, Jackson wondered, when he found out Meredith had been unfaithful? That she’d conceived another man’s child? What inner strength did Joe Colton possess that had compelled him to continue his marriage with Meredith and raise Teddy as his own son?

      And what, Jackson wondered as a fist knotted in his gut, would the family patriarch do if he ever found out his brother, Graham, was the boy’s father?

      “I’d better make sure our troops brush their teeth,” Meredith said. Setting her snifter on the desk, she met Jackson’s gaze. “I’m sorry to hear about your problems with the police, Jackson. No one should have to endure something like that.”

      He slid a hand into the pocket of his khakis. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was referring to his promise to turn her in to the cops if she didn’t stop blackmailing his father.

      “Not when they haven’t done anything wrong,” he commented. “I’ll get it resolved, Aunt Meredith. One way or the other.”

      “I’m sure you will.” She dropped a kiss on top of her husband’s head, then walked toward the door, her grace perfect in her black spiked heels.

      Remaining silent, Jackson watched his uncle’s expression while his gaze tracked his wife out the door. He felt a twist of sorrow at the dull resignation that clouded the man’s eyes.

      “Well,” Joe said after a moment as he leaned back in his chair and swirled the brandy in his glass. “I figure while you sat through that movie you came up with a plan on how to deal with this mess?”

      “The start of one.” Jackson dropped into one of the leather visitor chairs in front of the desk and stretched out his long legs. “First thing in the morning I’ll call Adam Jones at Amalgamated. I want to know if someone’s been asking questions lately about the lawsuit I filed for him against his father. If so, I want to know who that person is.”

      “Good. After that?”

      “I need to go to L.A. I plan to pay a visit to the insurance

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