Colton 911--The Secret Network Read online

  January was just about to drift off to sleep when a sudden noise penetrated her consciousness.

  Her eyes flew open.

  She knew that noise. It was the one made by her back door alarm.

  Someone was trying to come in.

  January immediately thought of the black sedan she had seen earlier. The same one she had seen driving around yesterday.

  Bolting out of bed, she paused only long enough to grab her cell phone—not even her shoes. Moving as fast as she could, she flew into Maya’s bedroom.

  “C’mon, baby, we’ve got to go,” she signed as quickly as she could.

  Maya had barely opened her eyes. January wasn’t sure she had even gotten her message across to the girl, but there was no time to stop and sign it again.

  They needed to hide.

  Now.

  * * *

  Colton 911: Chicago—Love and danger come alive in the Windy City...

  * * *

  If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Romantic Suspense! #harlequinromsuspense

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to another saga surrounding the very prolific Colton family. This one is about the branch started by twin brothers who wound up marrying twin sisters. The brothers, Ernest and Alfred, went into the medical technology field, while their wives, Farrah and Fallon, became interior designers who opened their own company. Alfred and Farrah had three daughters, while Ernest and Fallon had two sons and a daughter. And unlike some warring clans, everyone in these two families was close.

  This story is about the youngest of Alfred and Farrah’s three daughters. January Colton is an extremely dedicated social worker who gets pulled into a homicide case involving a deaf five-year-old little girl, Maya. The detective in charge, Sean Stafford, takes it upon himself to guard January and Maya when it becomes evident that they are being stalked, most likely targeted for elimination, because of what Maya might have witnessed.

  So come, read and return for more. I promise you won’t be sorry.

  As always, I want to thank you for picking up one of my books to read. And from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.

  All the best,

  Marie Ferrarella

  COLTON 911:

  THE SECRET NETWORK

  Marie Ferrarella

  USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author Marie Ferrarella has written more than two hundred and fifty books for Harlequin, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, marieferrarella.com.

  Books by Marie Ferrarella

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Colton 911: Chicago

  Colton 911: The Secret Network

  The Coltons of Kansas

  Exposing Colton Secrets

  The Coltons of Mustang Valley

  Colton Baby Conspiracy

  Cavanaugh Justice

  A Widow’s Guilty Secret

  Cavanaugh’s Surrender

  Cavanaugh Rules

  Cavanaugh’s Bodyguard

  Cavanaugh Fortune

  How to Seduce a Cavanaugh

  Cavanaugh or Death

  Cavanaugh Cold Case

  Cavanaugh in the Rough

  Cavanaugh on Call

  Cavanaugh Encounter

  Cavanaugh Vanguard

  Cavanaugh Cowboy

  Cavanaugh’s Missing Person

  Cavanaugh Stakeout

  Cavanaugh in Plain Sight

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  This book is dedicated to

  My Other Daughters.

  To Sandra Lee,

  Whom I have known

  Since her first day of kindergarten,

  And to Tiffany Melgar,

  Whom I got to know when she was just a little older,

  But no less wonderful.

  And to my flesh-and-blood daughter, Jessica Ferrarella,

  Who has never read a single one of my books,

  But whom I love dearly anyway.

  You make my heart smile, girls.

  I’m so glad that you are all in my life.

  With love,

  Mama

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Excerpt from Colton’s Dangerous Liaison by Regan Black

  Prologue

  January Colton hurried across the restaurant’s main dining area. By her watch, she was only five minutes late, but her sisters would make a big deal out of it since she was always running late. Usually just by a little bit, but never through her own fault. She just didn’t have a job that could easily be wrapped up at day’s end. Being a social worker just wasn’t that sort of work.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said to the two women who were already seated at the cozy round table.

  Simone, the oldest sister and the only one of the three who had medium brown hair worn in a chin-length bob, raised her eyes to January’s face. “Second verse, same as the first,” she murmured with a patient smile.

  “I’ll have you know I was briefing the woman who’s going to be taking my place for the next couple of weeks,” January informed her as she set down her bag.

  Centering herself, she looked around the table. There was a plate of appetizers in the middle and three glasses of champagne, one by each of their place settings.

  “Everything looks lovely, as always, Tatum,” January, the tallest sister despite the fact that she was the youngest, said, complimenting the middle Colton sister. After all, the restaurant, True, was Tatum’s baby. It had been for the last two years. The blonde, wavy haired Tatum had worked night and day to pull the farm-to-table restaurant together, turning it into the success it was today.

  January’s excuse was not lost on either of her siblings. “You actually have someone taking your place next week?” Simone asked.

  “I do,” January said proudly, picking up the menu and glancing at it.

  “So this is really on the level?” Tatum questioned January. They were all workaholics, but of the three of them, January was the most notoriously dedicated. They had lost count of the vacations that had been planned and then hadn’t materialized.

  “Absolutely,” January replied.

  They had made plans for this joint getaway, booking a flight as well as reservations at a spa, but Simone was still skeptical about its taking place. “You’re really going to do this?”

  “Yes,” January answered with emphasis. “I’m really going to do this.”

  Simone pinned their baby sister with a look. “You’re not going to back out at the last minute?”

  January frowned. “No.”

  “Or say that something ‘just came up’?” Tatum pressed the issue, knowing that those were excuses that January had used to beg
off before.

  Exasperated, January put down her menu and looked from one of her sisters to the other. “What is it going to take to convince you two that I am really going to go on this way overdue spa vacation with you?”

  “Way, way overdue,” Tatum pointedly emphasized.

  “Give it a rest, Tatum,” January requested. “Now, what is it going to take to get the two of you to drop this and just move on?”

  “You could try signing a statement in blood,” Simone, a psychology professor with a PhD from the University of Chicago, suggested with an innocent smile. “We all know how quickly you can change your mind.”

  “Very funny coming from someone who just broke up with yet another lame guy,” January commented, deciding to go on the offensive for a change. “Tell me, did you minor in having notoriously bad taste in men, or is that something that just comes naturally to you?”

  The dark-haired thirty-two-year-old professor drew her shoulders back. “At least I’m trying, which is more than I can say for you.”

  January decided to retreat. She wasn’t here to fight, she was here to mark the beginning of their mutually anticipated holiday.

  But she did want to make a point.

  “There aren’t enough hours in the day for me to be able to do my job as a social worker properly and date, much less build a relationship with someone who might or might not turn out to be worthwhile,” January said in all seriousness.

  “Ladies, ladies, this is not the way to behave on the eve of our long postponed and much needed and deserved joint spa weekend,” Tatum said as she inevitably picked up the reins of peacemaker.

  It was a familiar role for Tatum and one she slipped into time and again. If Simone was the brains and January was the heart and soul of their trio, then Tatum represented their common sense. In addition, it had been Tatum’s foresight that had goaded her to open this restaurant in downtown Chicago two years ago. And it had been her determination that helped her turn it into such a success—thanks to her innovative recipes—all in a breathtakingly short amount of time.

  All three sisters were dedicated. They all sank long hours and hard work into their chosen fields. It was a work ethic that all three had learned right at home.

  “Well, I don’t know about you two, but if I don’t get some sunshine on this all too pale skin of mine, I’m going to start looking like I’ve been left out in the rain much too long and I’m starting to rust,” January complained.

  “Well, don’t expect me to feel sorry for you,” Simone told her. “Nobody told you to pick up those extra shifts and work all those long hours for the city.”

  Right, like Simone wouldn’t cave the minute she was confronted with a frightened, abused child. “You try looking into those sad little eyes in the faces of the kids I deal with, and you pick which one to say no to. I dare you,” January said. She turned toward Tatum. “It’s a lot harder, I promise you, than whipping up those sinfully delicious meals for the overprivileged gentry claiming to want to get back to ‘nature,’” January told her other sister.

  “Ouch,” Tatum cried, pretending to wince. “You’re tired and overworked, Jan, so I’ll cut you some slack. But I’d watch that tongue of yours if I were you.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I am tired and I am overworked.” January flashed Tatum an apologetic smile. “I haven’t even had time to pack yet.”

  “You haven’t packed yet?” Simone asked, her eyes widening. “Jan, we’re leaving in the morning.”

  “Yes, I am aware of that,” January replied wearily. “Just because I don’t have a PhD doesn’t mean I can’t tell time.”

  “Well, nobody asked me, but I’d say that all three of us are way beyond needing that time off in order to recharge,” Tatum told her sisters.

  And then she raised her champagne glass, ready to make a toast. When she had reserved this table for their dinner, Tatum had seen to it that the glasses beside the place settings were all filled with their favorite brand of champagne.

  “To our much needed vacation,” she toasted, her blue eyes affectionately washing over her two best friends—her sisters.

  They might have their differences from time to time, but there were no two people she loved more or had greater respect for than her sisters.

  Simone followed suit, raising her glass to the others. “To our vacation.”

  “Our spa vacation.” January underscored the sentiment, raising her glass, as well.

  The sisters clinked their glasses.

  “No matter what,” Tatum added.

  Her sisters echoed the mantra, although both Simone and Tatum did look at January with a hint of suspicion in their eyes.

  “Hey, don’t look at me like that,” January protested. “My boss was the one who insisted I take this vacation, remember?”

  “Well, I’ll believe it when all three of us are on the plane,” Simone said.

  “I’ll believe it when we’re getting off the plane,” Tatum interjected.

  January knew that was for her benefit. “Very funny.”

  After taking sips of the champagne and then setting down their glasses, the sisters began to eat—and talk excitedly about their plans.

  Their voices were intersecting and melding, and at first, they didn’t hear the cell phone ringing. When the noise finally penetrated, the sisters looked at one another, silently asking where the ringing was coming from just before they each checked their own device.

  And then January held up her hand. “Oh, hold on a second. That is my phone ringing.”

  Simone exchanged a look with Tatum. “And then there were two,” the older sister said with a note of resignation in her voice.

  Tatum sighed. This was not the first eleventh-hour phone call that had ever interrupted their carefully laid plans.

  And, most likely, it wouldn’t be the last.

  Chapter 1

  January saw the almost identical leery looks on her sisters’ faces as she picked up her cell phone and instinctively knew what they were both thinking.

  “It’s probably just a last-minute question,” she told them.

  In general, despite the nature of the sorrow that she dealt with in social services, January was an exceedingly upbeat person. She always saw life in a glass-half-full light. Consequently, January refused to believe that this phone call from her office might possibly be a death knell for her vacation plans. She believed, as she had said, that this was just a last-minute question, either from her boss or her replacement.

  Rising from the table, she answered her phone at the same time that she put some space between herself and her sisters. She thought that maybe privacy might be in order. She had learned a long time ago that it was always better to be prepared than to be caught unaware or by surprise.

  “Hello, this is January Colton,” she told the caller cheerfully. “How may I help you?”

  “January, it’s Sid Blackwell,” the raspy voice on the other end of the call said.

  Even if the caller hadn’t bothered to identify himself, all he needed to do was say a couple of words and she would have recognized his voice anywhere. It was her boss.

  She did her best to dismiss the noticeable sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach that seemed to be mushrooming and said cheerfully, “Hi, Sid, what’s up?” and thought it only fair to point out, “I did just leave the office less than forty-five minutes ago.”

  “I know,” she heard her boss say, “and believe me, if there were any other way, I wouldn’t be calling you like this, but turns out that this is an unusual situation and frankly, you’re the only one I can think of who can help.”

  He actually sounded contrite, January thought, and that had her worried. After all, Blackwell was the one who had insisted that she take this vacation in the first place.

  Something definitely had to be wrong.

  Januar
y stole a glance over her shoulder. For now, Simone and Tatum weren’t paying attention to her. Her sisters seemed busy talking to each other. She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned her head back around.

  “All right, Sid, you have my attention,” she said, trying to coax Blackwell to get to the point. “Why am I the only one you can think of to handle this?” Maybe her supervisor had just gotten too used to relying on her and this really wasn’t as bad as he thought.

  “The police just brought in a little girl—she looks like she might be around five-ish,” Blackwell said. “Anyway, she was found hiding behind some crates in a warehouse. One of the people in the vicinity called the police when they heard gunfire.”

  Okay, maybe this was as bad as he thought.

  “Gunfire?” she asked uneasily. “Is the girl all right?”

  “From what I’ve been told, she appears to be,” Blackwell answered. “The detective at the scene thinks the kid might have been a witness to what happened at the warehouse.”

  “Exactly what happened at the warehouse?” January asked.

  “There were three dead bodies—all male—found not too far from where the kid was discovered, cowering,” Blackwell told her.

  January sucked in her breath. It wasn’t hard to envision what that little girl had to have gone through. Alfred Colton’s youngest daughter was instantly filled with sympathy.

  “That poor thing must be scared out of her mind,” January said to her supervisor.

  “Must be,” Blackwell agreed in his detached sort of way. “The thing is, the detective can’t get her to talk. According to what I heard, the kid hasn’t said a single word since they found her.” January heard her boss pause before finally saying, “I thought that maybe, with all your experience working with special needs children, you might consider just making a quick stop by the police station and monitoring the situation.”

  Monitoring? Was Blackwell actually saying what she thought he was saying? “Let me get this straight, Sid. Are you assigning me to this case?” January asked.

  “Oh no, no.” She heard her supervisor quickly deny that idea. “Susan Eckhardt is the social worker assigned to this case.” Then Blackwell hesitated before he added, “But, well, Susan doesn’t have much experience when it comes to special needs children and...”