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Sierra smiled, recalling from her research that that particular sibling had a condo in this same complex.
“You might want something stronger,” Grayson suggested, “if you’re going to break the news to Ace tonight about Micheline Anderson being his real mother.”
Sierra, who’d been distracted by the surprising discovery that the PI she’d spoken to about Ace’s case earlier was romantically involved with Nova, looked up sharply. “Who?” Though the name rang a bell—a warning Klaxon, for some reason—she couldn’t place it for a moment. And then she remembered the photo she’d seen in the shop window, the one thanking the Affirmation Alliance Group founder for her help with earthquake recovery efforts.
“Wait a minute,” Sierra blurted, staring in Ainsley’s direction. “Weren’t you the one who warned me, right after I arrived in Mustang Valley, when I said I was looking for an out-of-the-way place to lodge, to stay as far as humanly possible from the AAG Center—and anything to do with Micheline Anderson and her ‘Being Your Best You’ groupies?”
“I did, and for good reason,” Ainsley admitted, lines creasing her forehead.
“What?” Sierra asked. “Is she another one of those slick self-help gurus who help themselves to the contents of their followers’ bank accounts?”
She mouthed a quick thanks to Grayson as he handed her the sparkling water she’d requested.
“Far worse.” Ainsley accepted the glass of wine her brother offered but set it down, untouched. “We already had reason to suspect Micheline might have once gone by the name of Luella Smith, the nurse believed to have switched the babies. Then my fiancé, Santiago, and I uncovered evidence Micheline might also be connected to this phony Marriage Institute scheme, where they were promising couples counseling but actually taking payoffs from one side to tip the scales.”
“Sounds like a nightmare.” Sierra could all too easily able to imagine the horrific potential for abuse.
“The real nightmare,” Rafe put in, looking at his sister, “is imagining what could’ve happened if your and Santiago’s scheme to play a married couple and infiltrate that crooked institute had gone wrong.”
“It very nearly did,” Ainsley admitted with a shudder. “Fortunately, we were able to get that scheme shut down, but from what I overheard Micheline say during a phone call, I’m absolutely certain she’s planning something that means big trouble.”
“And now,” Grayson said, “to have to tell Ace that a woman like that might really be his—”
Grimacing, Ainsley shook her head at him. “I can’t tell him, not now. I’ve been a nervous wreck all day as it is, worrying how Ace would take instant fatherhood after everything else he’d been contending with. Nova would’ve been heartbroken, after everything she’s gone through, if he’d rejected her.”
Ainsley’s brothers let the subject drop.
Sierra told them, “I don’t think rejecting Nova ever entered Ace’s mind. It was a shock, of course, when he first heard about her, and I know he still has a lot of questions about why the mother—what was her name?—never told him she was pregnant. I’m sure he’d love to ask her.”
“Allegra Ellis,” Ainsley said. “But I’m afraid Nova’s mother’s passed away, so Nova and Ace are left now to figure out their own truths...and how they want their story to end.”
Grayson looked around. “Shall we all drink a toast to happily ever afters?”
“To happily-ever-afters,” Ainsley said, reaching to pick up and raise her elegant crystal wineglass, “or at least as near to it as we all can hope to come.”
Agreeing to that, they quickly drank, and afterward the brothers started talking, awkwardly, to Sierra’s ears, about the impact of the recent earthquake on the town’s economy. While Grayson explained something about the early emergency response to Rafe, Ainsley sipped at her wine and looked toward Sierra with a look worthy of her reputation as one of the shrewdest corporate lawyers in the state.
“So tell me, Sierra,” Ainsley asked, dropping her voice and canting her head in a conspiratorial manner, “is there any chance, any chance at all, that our brother’s happily-ever-after might possibly include you?”
Sierra sputtered on the fizzy mouthful of sparkling water she’d been swallowing. “Me?” Was it that obvious to others that she and Ace had slept together? Belatedly struggling to pull together her poker face, she coughed into her hand and asked, “What on earth would make you say that?”
“Because you’re still here, for one thing,” Ainsley pointed out. “And more than that, I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way he looks at you—and I’ve noticed your concern for him, ever since that awful ordeal with those men who ambushed the two of you.”
“I needed to make things right, that’s all,” Sierra insisted, telling herself that it would be best—or at least less painful for Ace when she disappeared—if she didn’t let on how close the two of them had gotten. “I felt bad about buying into Selina’s story in the first place about why she wanted to hire me and even worse about getting Ace hurt when we ran into my—ah—those troublemakers that were trailing me.” Hating the idea of near-strangers judging her father’s gambling addiction, Sierra had offered scant details to anyone but Sergeant Spencer Colton about Ice Veins and his associates, explaining to the other Coltons only that as a bounty hunter, she occasionally dealt with the type of clientele inclined to hold grudges.
“You sure it’s only that?” asked Ainsley, whose perceptive eyes narrowed over the rim of her wineglass.
“Badgering t
he witness!” Grayson accused his sister with a teasing grin. “Just because you and Santiago are all hot and heavy these days doesn’t mean you have to fix up every single person within reach, too.”
Blushing, Ainsley sent a pillow sailing toward her brother, but he caught it neatly with Rafe chuckling and Sierra trying to figure out a graceful way to change the subject.
Never famous for her tact, she went straight for the proverbial elephant in the living room. “So how’s your father? Any change?” Noticing the siblings’ exchange of startled looks, she shrugged an explanation. “Ace has been asking and asking, trying to find out anything he can regarding his father’s condition—and yes, he absolutely does still consider Payne Colton his real dad. I’ve asked around, too, at the hospital, but you know how they are with all their privacy laws and blah, blah, blah.”
Grayson, who’d long worked as a first responder, smiled while Ainsley shook her head and lectured, “You know, those federal laws exist for everyone’s protection.”
“Especially with reporters out there gunning for a story,” Rafe added, his blue eyes serious, “and whoever really shot our father is still out there.”
