âYouâre more than one of my agents now. Youâre my wife.â
The teasing light warmed in her beautiful eyes, and he felt a thrill over assessing her correctly.
He stopped. She faced him and a long, silent moment filled the energy between them. Lifting his hand, he caressed her cheek with his thumb.
âYouâre going to make a great mom.â
Her slow blink told him she received his comment favorably, in opposition to her choice in profession. Maybe heâd overgeneralized. Women could take on any type of career and be great moms. Jocelynâs case differed in how sheâd come to her decision. It didnât matter. She fascinated him.
Without any thought over why he shouldnât, Trevor leaned in and kissed her.
* * *
We hope you enjoy this preview of The Coltons of Texas: Finding love and buried family secrets in the Lone Star Stateâ¦
Chapter 1
âItâs not her.â Trevor Colton strolled around the body lying on blood-soaked carpet next to the bed.
Evidence of a violent fight for life cluttered the scene, a tipped-over lamp and chair, broken picture glass and the item that had prompted the call to him. A red permanent marker lay on the floor where a pen and pencil jar had fallen from a small desk crammed next to a dresser. That, in addition to the first letter of the victimâs name, had alerted him and his team that this could be the work of the Alphabet Killer. As soon as Trevor saw the scene, however, he didnât agree.
When his most promising agent didnât respond, he turned to see Jocelyn Locke staring at the body, one arm folded against her ribs, the other propped on top, fingers curled at her lips.
Since when did she get queasy at crime scenes? The bloody body and overall gore surrounding what had once been Jane McDonald would shock anyone not familiar with this line of work. Jocelyn was a trained FBI agent, still a rookie, but this wasnât her first murder case. Trevor enjoyed training her, molding her into an excellent detective. He ignored the little voice that taunted he liked something else about her, too.
She noticed him scrutinizing her. Lowering her hand, she asked, âWhat?â
Whatever had her disturbed abruptly disappeared. He decided to let it pass for now. They had work to do.
âOur subject didnât do this,â he said. âSomeone who once loved her did this. A man. Husband. Lover.â He pointed to the stab wounds. âSee how many times he stabbed her? Twenty or twenty-five times. Look at her chest. Itâs shredded.â
Jocelynâs curled fingers went back to their previous pose. She stared at the body again.
âJocelyn?â
Dropping her hand, she glanced at him with a sickened swallow and then headed for the door.
Startled, Trevor trailed behind her. What had gotten into her? Maybe he hadnât noticed her queasiness until now. This had to be the worst reaction sheâd had. Concern rose up, more than he should have for a fellow agent.
Most of the time he concentrated on the investigations. Paying too much attention to her would only lead to trouble. Jocelyn had one of those slender, hot-in-skinny-jeans bodies that drew a manâs eyeâand heartâaway from tasks at hand. And she talked about babies a lot. Why sheâd become an agent, he never guessed. She struck him as more of a stay-at-home mom, albeit an armed one.
Outside, he watched her take several deep breaths under a streetlight, late on a warm June night in Granite Gulch, Texas.
He stopped beside her. âAre you all right?â
Her long dark hair swung in a ponytail as she turned. âYeah. Yeah. I just... I donât think Iâll ever get used to that.â
Crime scenes were never easy to see. âYou have to learn to detach yourself. Your goal is to help the victims and their families. Thatâs your job, your duty. You bring them justice.â He jabbed his thumb toward the ranch house where the murder had occurred and a neighbor had called to report screaming. âThat in there is just a body. You donât have to feel sorry for it. Feel sorry for the life that left it. And get motivated to avenge her.â