The Flapper's Fake Fiancé

by Lauri Robinson

  Burrows jerked her arm so hard she couldn’t stop the wail of pain that shot out of her mouth. He jerked her again, spinning her around so they faced the man running up the pier.

  “What?” Burrows shouted to the man.

  His head was right next to hers, and she squeezed her eyes shut at how his shout made her ears ring.

  Another shout made her eyes snap open, and her heart leaped again at the sight of Lane running behind the man. Two men were running behind him.

  She opened her mouth to shout his name, but in the very instant, Burrows released her, shoving her backward. Stumbling, she reached out, looking for something to grasp, but was hit by a barreling force.

  Her feet left the ground and she went flying, over the edge of the pier at the same time shots rang out.

  “We have to swim for it!” Victoria shouted.

  Patsy didn’t have time to say she didn’t know how to swim before she hit the water. Panic engulfed her mind as quickly as her body sank into the black water. She flayed her arms and kicked her feet, but it didn’t help, she just kept sinking, lower and lower.

  She was going to drown.

  Fear filled her.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t see.

  This wasn’t how she wanted her life to end.

  She didn’t want her life to end.

  Kicking harder, she tried to make her body move, find the top of the water. Find air. Her lungs were on fire. She had to take a breath. Had to breathe.

  Something grabbed her and she fought against it, tried to get away. She couldn’t. Whatever it was that had a hold of her was shoving her through the water.

  This was it.

  The end of her life.

  A moment later, her head shot above the water. She gasped, coughed and sucked in air. And water. She spat it out, and, realizing that something still had a hold of her, she started kicking, pushing at it.

  “Breathe, just breathe. I got you.”

  Her entire being froze with disbelief. “Lane?”

  Water filled her mouth again as she sank. In an instant, her head was above water again.

  “I got you, honey,” he said. “Don’t fight the water, just relax. We’re almost to shore.”

  She was on her back, his arm was around her, under her arms, and she stretched her neck, needing to know that it was really him. That she wasn’t dead, imagining things.

  It was dark and water splashed in her face. “Is it really you?”

  “Yes, it’s really me.”

  An amazing, soaring joy filled her so completely she didn’t care that she was in the water, that she didn’t know how to swim. She flipped around and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Her lips found his, and they sank beneath the water.

  She didn’t care.

  His hands grasped her waist and propelled her upward, until their heads were above water again. She didn’t stop kissing him. Wouldn’t ever stop kissing him.

  “Come on, you two, get out of the water before you both drown.”

  Patsy pulled her lips off Lane’s at the sound of Victoria’s voice.

  “She’s right,” Lane said. “Hold on to me.”

  “I am,” Patsy said, and would hold on to him forever.

  “Come on!” Victoria said, waving from the top of the rock wall that kept the sea from rolling into the warehouses. “I’ll help you up.”

  Lane swam her to the wall, and helped her get her feet on rocks so she could climb upward. He was right behind her, and Victoria grabbed her arms as soon as she was within reach.

  “I didn’t know you couldn’t swim,” Victoria said, pulling her into a hug. “But it was our only hope of getting away.”

  Fuzzy-headed, Patsy asked, “What happened?”

  “Your fiancé came to your rescue,” Victoria said. “Our rescue.”

  Lane climbed up on the rocks and steered both her and Victoria off the rock wall and onto the ground. “What are you two doing here?”

  Patsy bit her lip, and swallowed. “Trying to stop Burrows from finding you.”

  “It’s my fault,” Victoria said. “I called him. Told him I needed more whiskey. I thought we could trap him at my house, but he told us to come here instead. I had my derringer, but his goons took it away from me.”

  “That was foolish,” Lane said. “Very foolish.”

  Looking up at him, Patsy asked, “How’d you know where to find us?”

  “I didn’t,” Lane said. “I was in the gin joint when you walked in.” He pointed toward the pier. Police cars, with red lights flashing, were lined up along the ramp that led to the pier. “The FBI was there, too, and federal prohibition agents.”

  “Did they catch Burrows?” she asked.

  “I assume so,” Lane answered. “But he wasn’t my concern. When I saw you going over the edge of the pier, all I could think about is that you don’t know how to swim.”

  “You saved my life,” she whispered. He had. She’d have drowned if not for him.

  Lane cupped her face with both hands. “I love you, Patsy Liberty Bell Dryer. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than I’ll ever love anyone.”

  Her heart welled to ten times its normal size, leaving her with barely enough breath to say, “I love you, too, Lane. More than anything or anyone.”

  He kissed her then. A long, incredible kiss that left Patsy nearly floating on air. The red lights still flashing brought her back to earth. “Burrows did kill Rex, he said so,” she told Lane.

  “I know,” he said.

  She bit down on her bottom lip, before telling him, “He’d been following an agent, waiting to steal the old bills being transported. That’s why he blew up the passenger car, to kill the agent.”

  “I know,” Lane repeated.

  She loved him so much and didn’t want to cause him pain, but he needed to know the truth. “He was responsible for Naomi’s and Sarah’s deaths,” she said quietly.

  He cupped her face with both hands. “I know that, too. And I know he’ll pay for it. What I want you to know is that all of that, the train accident, Burrows, Gaynor, Naomi and Sarah, that’s all in my past. I’m focused on the future now. A future that I want to share with you. If you’re interested.”

  Happiness filled her as she nodded. “I’m interested. I’m very interested.”

  Once again, his kiss left her floating on air.

  She was still floating on air an hour later, when Lane pulled into her parents’ driveway.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded and kissed him on the lips, briefly because another car pulled in the driveway next to them. Victoria had insisted upon driving Mother’s car home. They had used it to go to the gin joint, and it needed to be brought home, but—

  Patsy sighed. “I do hope Victoria knows what she’s in for.”

  “Don’t worry about Victoria,” Lane said. “If anyone is able to hold their own with your father, it’s her.”

  Her father was out the front door and down the steps before Lane had even opened her car door. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Father made a comment about her looking like a drowned rat every time Lane brought her home.

  Considering it was the second time he’d brought her home dripping wet, she laughed, which seemed to shock her father.

  “Hello, William,” Victoria said, interrupting anything Father may have been ready to say. “It’s been awhile.”

  “Victoria Lloyd?” Frowning, and looking confused, Father asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Victoria held out the key to Mother’s car. “Returning your wife’s car, which was just used in busting a notorious bootlegger, among other things.” As she dropped the key in Father’s hand, she added, “I really could use a drink. You have one, don’t you?”

  “Of course
, come in,” Father said, waving at the open door.

  Once Victoria had entered, Father said, “Go change your clothes, Patsy.”

  She was still wearing the black dress she’d borrowed from Victoria, but it was no longer dripping wet. Just covered in seaweed. Smiling, she tugged the jacket Lane had given her out of the backseat of his car tighter. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  Lane stepped in behind her, and said, “I thought you promised to keep an eye on her, William.”

  Father appeared to still be finding his tongue when Victoria said, “I’m waiting for that drink, William.”

  Mother guided them all into the living room, while Father went to his office. She, Lane and Victoria were all seated on the sofa when he returned with a tray of drinks. He didn’t offer her one, but she didn’t hold that against him. She was too happy to hold anything against anyone.

  Except Vincent Burrows. She hoped he was getting exactly what he deserved. Patsy had to bite her lip at the differences between Lane’s tale of the evening, which was fact-based, and Victoria’s overly embellished version.

  “Patsy, darling, are you sure you’re all right?” Mother asked. “That sounds like a harrowing tale.”

  “Yes, Mother, I’m fine.” She looked at Lane. Because of him she was fine. “I believe I just had my first lesson in being the wife of the best reporter in the state.”

  “Well, now,” Father said gruffly. “If this is the sort of thing that—”

  “You’re the one who picked Lane out for me, Father.” Patsy wrapped both hands around his arm.

  “Yes, well—”

  “And I’m so glad you did,” she added.

  Lane smiled at her, and then, despite her parents’ sitting right there, he kissed her forehead. “You need to go take a bath, and I have an article to write for tomorrow’s paper.”

  Patsy didn’t protest, she did smell awful, and after saying goodbye to him and Victoria, she turned to walk up the steps.

  Father took her arm. “Patsy.”

  “I am marrying Lane, Father,” she said. “That’s all there is to it.”

  “Well, maybe you should take some time, think about it.”

  He sounded meek, mellow.

  She grinned. “I already have.” Then, she stretched on her toes so she could kiss his cheek. “Thank you. There isn’t a finer man on this earth than Lane Cox.”

  She hurried upstairs, where her sisters were eagerly waiting to hear about everything that had happened. Even though they had been listening from the staircase.

  “I’m sorry I kept you from sneaking out tonight,” she whispered as they entered her bedroom.

  “We had to know where you’d gone,” Jane said. “I can’t believe you took Mother’s car without permission.”

  Patsy flung open her closet door. “I had to.”

  “Because of the story?” Betty asked.

  “No, because of Lane,” Patsy said. “I love him.” She handed a dress to Jane and then walked over to her chest of drawers.

  “What are you going to do with this?” Jane asked, looking at the dress.

  Happiness bubbled inside Patsy. She plucked out her underclothes and shut the drawer. “I’m going to put it on, right after I take a bath, so I no longer smell like seaweed, and then I’m going to climb out the bathroom window.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lane had been at the office for less than half an hour when he heard tapping on the glass front doors. After giving Victoria a ride home, he’d gone to his apartment, bathed and put on clean clothes before coming to the office, knowing he’d be here half the night.

  Burrows had followed his uncle to California years ago, but his uncle sent him home because he couldn’t be trusted. Rather than going home, he’d heard about the Federal Reserve collecting old bills and learned about the train shipment. After blowing up the train and killing Billy Phillips, he’d followed Gaynor, but Rex had been arrested before Burrows could kill him. Turned out, Burrows and Billy had been working together and Rex Gaynor had been the third person. Rex didn’t know that, or know that it was him whom Burrows was supposed to kill. Burrows had found the money Rex buried and took it back to New Jersey, until being ousted by his family for dirty dealings. He’d have been killed if he hadn’t been a family member of the mob syndicate out there.

  He’d returned to California to start another bootlegging business. He’d offed Gaynor because upon his return, he’d heard Rex was claiming someone else had blown up the train and was afraid Rex might be able to identify him. That Billy might have told Rex about him. In the meantime he’d stolen a shipment of Minnesota Thirteen and had been using that to convince people to invest in his business and buy his product, but when Victoria had realized she wouldn’t get her money back, because his whiskey was so bad and once they tasted it, no one would buy it a second time, he tried to off her, too. He was in the midst of stealing another shipment of Minnesota Thirteen, which he figured was easier than making his own whiskey. All in all, Burrows’s bootlegging business backfired on him as much as his train robbery had. A criminal always returned to the scene of the crime. That’s what got Burrows caught.

  It’s also what got Henry shanghaied. When Burrows had discovered Henry was on his tail, he’d captured Henry and his partner, knocked them out and put them on a ship bound for the east.

  The tapping repeated.

  Lane tossed down his pencil and stood. He was never going to get this story done in time for tomorrow’s edition. A story that may be the biggest in LA history.

  “I’m coming!” he shouted as the tapping sounded again.

  The only light on was the one in his office, and the streetlights outside the door, which was how he saw Patsy.

  He jogged past the filing cabinets and the long front desk to unlock and open the door. “What—?”

  “How about...?” She held up a hand and drew a line in the air with her thumb and forefinger. “‘Residents Can Sleep Soundly Again. Notorious Gangster Arrested.’”

  He laughed. “A headline? That’s why you’re here?”

  She stretched onto her toes and planted a kiss on his lips. “Yes. If you don’t like that, maybe you’ll like ‘Famous Reporter Assists FBI in Arrest of Bootlegger.’”

  He laughed again, and enjoying her game, asked, “How about ‘Flapper Liberty Bell Saves City’?”

  She giggled. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Not ready to give up your false identity yet?” He peered out the door behind her. “Did you steal your mother’s car again?”

  “No, the streetcars are still running. It’s not midnight yet.”

  “But you did sneak out.”

  She didn’t nod or shake her head, just looked at him as if he should know the answer to that.

  He did.

  “How are you going to get back home?”

  She turned around, and locked the glass door. “You can give me a ride when we are done writing the article.”

  He should drive her home right now, but the printing crew would be in by 5:00 a.m. and he needed his story done, completely edited and ready for print. Knowing her, as he did, she’d just sneak out again, probably beat him back here. They’d have to talk about that once they were married.

  Married.

  The idea thrilled him.

  Because he loved her just as she was.

  He took a hold of her hand. “Come on. You can work on the headline while I work on the story.”

  “Ducky!”

  Once in his office, he looked at her. “But first, I thought you agreed to stop working on the Burrows case.”

  She grinned. “No, you asked me to stop working on the case, but I never answered.”

  Technically, she was right. “It’s a good thing I love you,” he said.

  Looping her arms around his neck, she k
issed his chin. “Yes, it is.”

  He kissed her, long and lovingly, the exact way he’d wanted to for days. Then, knowing he’d never get any work done this way, he let her loose and glanced around, looking for a task to assign her to. There were several typewriters in his office, stationed at different locations. Having more than one came in handy while working on more than one story. “Do you know how to type?”

  “Yes, I just don’t have one at home.”

  Marvel filled him. “You are perfect, you know that?”

  She giggled. “Yes, I do.” Sitting down behind a typewriter, she picked up a piece of paper to feed into the roller. “Now, get a wiggle on, we have a story to write. I’ll type up tonight’s events while you write the backstory, and then we’ll put it all together.”

  The two of them were so in sync, the story practically wrote itself. She was excellent in bouncing off ideas as to how to put things together, and in remembering small details that made the story even more perfect. Between the two of them typing, and editing, it wasn’t yet midnight when he finished reading the final copy. Aloud.

  “That’s perfect, Lane. Perfect.” Standing beside his desk, she rubbed her arms. “Parts of it gave me goose bumps.”

  “It is perfect.” He set the paper on his desk. “And the Gazette will be the first paper to break the news.”

  She handed him another slip of paper. “What’s this?”

  “Just a flier to remind all taverns to check any alcohol they may have recently purchased. I know you already wrote an article about it, but a reminder might help spread the information. We don’t want people getting sick. I typed it up while you were editing the article.”

  She walked behind him and rubbed his shoulders. “I thought maybe we could mail it, or have it delivered to the speakeasies. I’d hate to have someone get sick when we could prevent it.”

  “I like that idea. A community service notification.” He leaned his head back. Her hands were doing wonders on the tension in his neck. “Once we are married, I’ll let you do this every night.” Several other things that they would do once they were married entered his mind.