On The Way To A Wedding

by Ingrid Weaver

  Duxbury slipped a hand into his pocket, striking a relaxed, casual pose. “I’m glad I ran into you today, Miss Abbot. I’d like to have the chance to correct some misconceptions you have about me.”

  “This is neither the time nor the place for an interview. Why don’t you contact the Channel 10 news department and—”

  “But it’s you I’d like to talk to. You’re the one responsible for all this—” he paused, as if searching for the word “—negative publicity.”

  “No, it’s you that’s responsible. You are a criminal, Mr. Duxbury. You deserve everything you get.”

  He lost his smile. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you. You and that damn cop.”

  “We were only doing our jobs. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish my lunch.”

  For a moment he stared at her, and the affability he usually projected dimmed. “Some other time, then, Miss Abbot.” He tipped his head and turned away. “Enjoy your meal.”

  Lauren watched him walk to a table beside the window and join a pair of men already there. The knot in her stomach tightened. She shouldn’t have let her own revulsion to that man overwhelm her judgment. He’d wanted to talk, that’s all. As a journalist, she should have jumped at the chance to present his side of the story, no matter what her personal feelings were. Gord wouldn’t have hesitated. What was wrong with her?

  Nick would have understood her reaction. He wouldn’t have sat down for a civilized chat with the man who had killed his partner and threatened his family. He would have...

  God, he was out of her life. So when would she be able to get him out of her mind?

  Nick slouched in his chair, propping his feet on an open drawer of his desk as he listened to O’Hara bring him up-to-date on Duxbury. It had been four days since the arrest, and Duxbury’s carefully woven public image was seriously unraveling.

  “It’s confirmed now that his wife took their kid for an extended visit to some relatives in New York,” O’Hara said.

  “She left him?”

  “Yup. She obviously complained to Mummy and Daddy before she did, though. Now the Vanwhatevers are bailing out faster than you can say Dow Jones.”

  Nick whistled softly. “They obviously don’t believe he’ll be acquitted.”

  “Looks like the in-laws want to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Duxbury before he drags them down with him.”

  “What a family.”

  “Oh, yeah. They have about as much loyalty as rats do to a sinking ship.”

  Nick nodded. “I have a feeling this is going to hurt Duxbury more than the trouble with his wife. Most of his companies rely heavily on financing from his in-laws.”

  “There were some pretty convoluted connections between them, all right. That lady reporter of yours did some impressive work with her background research. Epstein told me all the juicy material’s giving the D.A. hot flashes.”

  “Lauren’s very good at her job.”

  “Easy on the eyes, too. I wouldn’t have minded shacking up with her for a week, that’s for sure.”

  Nick’s boots thudded to the floor. His body tensing, he rose to his feet. “What did you say?”

  “Take it easy, Nick. No harm in a man thinking about it, is there? And it’s not as if you staked your claim or anything.”

  “She’s not your type, Phil.”

  “Why not? Sometimes those classy types really go for some down and dirty—”

  “Shut up, O’Hara.”

  “Geez, what’s wrong with you?”

  What was wrong with him? That was a simple one to answer. Lauren Abbot. The ice princess who made him burn. He’d thought he would have cooled off by now. After all, the woman had told him in no uncertain terms to get lost.

  Scowling, Nick slammed the desk drawer shut. “This isn’t a damn locker room, so watch your mouth.”

  O’Hara smiled. “Cranky today, aren’t we.”

  Nick ground his teeth, realizing O’Hara had been trying to get a rise out of him. And he hadn’t needed to try too hard, either. “Go annoy someone else,” he muttered, sitting down behind his desk once more. “I’ve got better things to do than listen to your fantasies.”

  For the next half hour, Nick read over the reports Epstein had slipped him on Duxbury. Officially he shouldn’t be here, since according to Gilmour he was still dead, but he was too restless to sit around doing nothing. He’d been on edge all week, and it was only getting worse.

  Once the story about his hoax had hit the media, he’d been bombarded with demands for more interviews. He’d refused them all. He’d told himself it was because he’d had his fill of reporters, but he knew it was out of a sense of fairness to Lauren. She’d worked hard to help bring Duxbury to justice, and she was the one who had gained the least. If she wasn’t going to profit from his story, then no one would.

  Was he a fool for continuing to care? Time and distance should have begun to dull the feelings he still had for her, and yet his desire to see her, to hear her voice and to feel the warmth of her arms around him hadn’t faded.

  Since his divorce, he’d never been with any woman long enough for her to have the chance to push him away. His involvements had been brief and the endings had been mutually agreeable. It wasn’t like him to hang on to someone who didn’t want him anymore.

  She had made herself perfectly clear. She’d even looked straight into a camera on live TV and stated there was nothing romantic between them. Maybe she really did have ice water in her veins if she could say something like that after the way she’d been so hot for him....

  He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes hard with the tips of his fingers. Sure, the sex had been great, but most of the time when he thought about her it wasn’t only her body that he missed. It was everything. The entire complex, maddening, fascinating woman.

  The phone on the desk shrilled suddenly. He frowned at it, knowing that the voice wouldn’t be the one he really wanted to hear. And he was angry at himself because he still wanted to hear it. God, he was a mess.

  Snatching up the receiver, he snarled a hello.

  “Whoa, better cut back on the coffee, big brother.”

  Nick rubbed his face with his free hand in an effort to ease his scowl. “Hi, One-up. How’re you doing?”

  “Better than you, by the sound of it,” Juanita answered. “Hasn’t Gilmour forgiven you yet?”

  “He’s thinking about it. What bothers him most are the nice things he said about me at the memorial service.”

  “I guess you’re anxious to get reinstated, huh?”

  “The rumors are that personnel is working on it. I’ll be back on the street by next week at the latest.”

  “A hero’s work is never done. Speaking of which, I heard that the twins have become extremely popular lately, thanks to you. All their friends want to meet their famous relative.”

  “That’s all I need,” he grumbled.

  “I bet.” She paused. “By the way, I haven’t seen Lauren Abbot on TV this week. How’s she doing?”

  “How would I know?”

  The pause was longer this time. “Ah. So it’s not the coffee. I figured there was something going on between the two of you. She’s a nice lady.”

  “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “Like I said, she’s a nice lady.”

  “If you called me up just to razz me, don’t bother. I’m doing a good enough job of that myself.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick. If you feel like talking...”

  “Thanks, One-up, but I’ll sort it out.”

  “I hope so.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, the reason I phoned is that I was wondering how the case against Adam Duxbury is progressing.”

  “Fine. Looks solid.”

  “Do you think he’ll be convicted?”

  “It’s out of my hands. I’ll have to trust the courts now, but yeah, I think he’ll be convicted.”

  “And those rumors about the contrac
t he had out on you and the rest of the family? They weren’t true after all?”

  Nick tightened his grip on the phone. “They were true, but the contract was lifted as soon as Duxbury believed I’d died. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing to get alarmed about. I was just wondering whether there was an undercover cop assigned to watch us, that’s all.”

  “No one’s assigned. What happened?”

  “Well, when I went over to Mom’s this afternoon, I noticed a guy sitting in a parked car across the road. He was gone by the time I left.”

  “Did you get a look at the man?”

  “No, it was the car that caught my eye. It wasn’t the kind of bland sedan the plainclothes guys usually use, so that’s why I thought I’d ask.”

  “What kind of car was it?”

  “A silver Jag.”

  A chill washed over him. Duxbury’s car. Epstein had been in constant contact with his snitch all week, and if there had been any rumors about another contract, he would have known immediately. Besides, Duxbury had nothing to gain by renewing his threats.

  So what logical reason could he have for watching Nick’s mother’s house?

  The chill coalesced into a hard lump in his gut. There was no logical reason, but was Duxbury thinking logically? The man’s life was falling down around his ears. He’d lost his family and his financing. What if he’d finally cracked?

  What if he wasn’t seeking to intimidate anymore and instead was simply seeking revenge? What better way to get even with Nick than to hurt him through the people he loved?

  “Where are you now?” Nick asked sharply.

  “I’m at home.”

  “Is Rose there, too?”

  “Yes, she just got in. Nick, I—”

  “Stay there. Lock your door. I’m going to have them send a unit over.”

  “Just because I saw a strange car? Nick, you’re overreacting.”

  “Don’t argue with me, One-up. I’m not taking any chances.”

  His phone call to his mother was as brief as he could manage. They’d been through this before. He’d thought they wouldn’t need to do it again. Despite her protestations that he was blowing the potential threat out of proportion, she finally agreed to keep the twins at home until she heard from him.

  Captain Gilmour wasn’t as cooperative. “Come on, Strada. I can’t go sending someone over just because Duxbury drove through the neighborhood. You’re jumping at shadows.”

  Nick struggled to control his temper. “You didn’t believe me before and I was right. I’m right this time, too. I feel it.”

  “All you have are suspicions and a vague theory about retribution. That’s even less than the last time.”

  “You know he’s dangerous, or you wouldn’t have Wanda in protective custody.”

  “That’s different and you know it.”

  “Then at least put Duxbury under surveillance. Hell, I’ll do it myself, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere near—”

  “You stay away from him or his lawyers will be screaming harassment. We have to handle this by the book from here or risk having the case thrown out of court.”

  Epstein and O’Hara were waiting for Nick when he strode out of the captain’s office a minute later. O’Hara put a restraining hand on Nick’s arm and tugged him aside. “We heard what you were saying. Epstein and I are going off duty now, so we’re on our own time. I’ll go to your mother’s. I haven’t had any of her borscht in years.”

  “And I’ll cover Rose and Juanita,” Epstein said. “If you’re wrong, Rose can always give my car a tune-up.”

  “You two believe me?”

  They looked at each other briefly. It was Epstein who answered. “You were right before. I wouldn’t want to underestimate Duxbury again, either.”

  Nick raked his hands through his hair in frustration. “I should have seen this coming. It was going too easily. I should have—” He stopped suddenly. This time the fear that surged through him chilled him down to his bones. “Lauren.”

  “What?”

  “If Duxbury’s seeking vengeance, he’s going to blame her as much as me,” he said, racing for the phone on his desk. He punched Lauren’s home number. All he got was her answering machine.

  No, she wouldn’t be home tonight. It was Friday. If Angela’s wedding was still on, they’d be at the church for the rehearsal.

  The church. What was its name? He ground his teeth as he yanked the phone directory out from underneath a pile of paper. Saint something or other. Started with a P. He ran his finger down the listings, stopping at St. Paul. Heart thudding, he dialed the number. He let it ring twelve times before he handed the phone to Epstein and asked him to keep trying. Pausing only long enough to grab his jacket and check to make sure his gun was loaded, he headed for the stairs.

  By the time he hit the parking lot, he was running. There was no proof that his fears were justified. Maybe he really was jumping at shadows as Gilmour had said. But somehow, he knew he was right.

  This was the reason behind the restlessness that had been plaguing him all week. Some part of him had known from the time he’d watched the coverage of Duxbury’s arrest. The man shouldn’t have been smiling like that. It should have tipped Nick off, but he’d been too tangled up in his feelings for Lauren to listen to his instincts.

  Nick reached his car and was turning the key in the ignition before he’d shut the door. The powerful engine of the vintage Mustang came to life with a satisfying growl. Jamming it into gear, he muscled onto the street.

  This was too much like the last time. The entire pattern seemed to be repeating itself. The anxiety and the protectiveness he felt was the same as it had been two weeks ago. He had to warn Lauren. He had to make sure she was safe. Because when it came to the people he loved...

  His hands jerked on the wheel. He corrected the skid with a quick tug and pressed harder on the accelerator.

  The people he loved? Lauren?

  Of course, he was in love with her. The fact had been staring him in the face for days. It was about time that he finally admitted it. He loved her smiles, and her frowns, and the way she angled her chin when she got stubborn. He loved her intelligence and her compassion, her wit and her sensitivity. He loved the way she fit into his arms....

  They did fit, despite their differences. Or maybe because of them. They were good for each other. To the rest of the world he’d been dead, but he’d never felt more alive than when he’d been living with her. And she’d started to feel it, too. She must have. The passion that had exploded between them had come from a source that was far deeper than physical.

  Yet she’d pushed him away.

  She didn’t want love. She didn’t want to feel anything. She wanted to wall herself up behind her professional objectivity and go through the rest of her life without risking involvement with anyone. Especially him. That’s what she’d said. She didn’t want him.

  Well, that was just too damn bad, wasn’t it. He loved her, and he wasn’t going to let her push him away again. He wasn’t going to give up. He’d camp on her doorstep, or he’d climb through her balcony window and beg if that’s what it took. Somehow he had to make her see...

  But first he had to find her.

  Tires squealing, he braked to a stop in front of the church. He took the steps three at a time, his pulse drumming in his ears as he pulled open the front door.

  A small group of people was gathered at the end of the aisle, their voices echoing distantly in the hushed highceilinged interior. Nick recognized Angela immediately. She was holding hands with a thin, sandy-haired man, the two of them smiling into each other’s eyes. Another couple was being directed into position by a black-garbed minister, while several other people stood to either side of the altar.

  Everything seemed calm and completely normal. Yet Nick’s pulse hadn’t slowed down. His boots thudded hollowly as he strode up the aisle and searched the group for a glimpse of Lauren.

  Angela turned her head, her eyes widening in
surprise as she caught sight of him. “Nick?”

  Other heads turned toward him, but none of the faces were familiar. Nick scanned the other side of the church, his pace increasing.

  “Nick, what are you-doing here?” Angela asked when he reached her.

  “I’m looking for Lauren. Is she here?”

  “No, you must have missed her on the way.” She tilted her head, peering at him oddly. “Are you all right? I thought it was serious.”

  He stepped closer, his muscles knotting. “Me? What are you talking about?”

  “She left as soon as she got the call. The doctor said you had gone into surgery—”

  “What?”

  “Someone told her you’d been in an accident.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “To the hospital, I assume. She didn’t tell me which one. Nick, what’s going on?”

  But he didn’t stay long enough to reply. He was already running back toward the door.

  Someone had lured Lauren away with a phony story.

  He was afraid that he knew who.

  And he was terrified that he knew why.

  Chapter 14

  She’d been conned. And it hadn’t even been a very good con. Yet she’d walked right into it. She should have known Nick could take care of himself. And even if he had been injured, she should have known better than to believe he’d have been asking for her. Yes, she should have stopped to think for a minute instead of letting panic and gut-deep fear rule her actions.

  It had been just plain stupid not to look around the darkened parking lot before she’d jumped out of her car. She’d lived and worked in the city for more than ten years, so she should have exercised some caution. But her sense of self-preservation seemed to have short-circuited, because all she had been able to think about was Nick, and how he was in pain, and how he wanted to see her....

  Lauren winced as the car hit a bump. Or maybe a curb. She pressed her feet against the curve of the wheel well, trying to steady herself as best she could in the pitching darkness, fighting off the hysteria that was waiting to claim her. Look at this logically, she told herself. Think of it as a story.