Flynt stayed right where he was. Angelica frowned her displeasure. Well, what had she expected? If he wouldn’t go when ordered at gunpoint, he’d hardly respond to a polite request.
“I can understand why you harbor certain—reservations—about having your father in your life. Having met your mother,” Flynt paused, striving for tact. Which meant starting over. “Now that I’ve met both your parents, it’s obvious that dealing with the two of them is going to require a deft touch. But I believe you’re up to the task, Angelica.”
She was wondering how to reply to that when there was a loud, almost thunderous pounding on the front door.
“Open up!” ordered the voice outside. “Police! And FBI. We have a search warrant!”
“Great, just great.” Angelica groaned. “What else can go wrong today?”
At once Romina, Sarah and Casper all came running. Romina was shouting, Sarah and Casper both appeared anxious.
Angelica’s eyes flew to Flynt’s face. He looked as if he’d just found himself transported into the Twilight Zone.
“What the hell’s going on?” Flynt demanded.
“You have till the count of three to open the door or we’ll break it down!” roared the voice from outside. “You know we’ll do it, Romina.”
“I know you will!” Romina screamed back.
“Go away!” wailed Sarah. “Leave us alone!” She turned to her mother. “I hate it when they mess up my room, Mama. Last time they broke my softball trophy and threw my collection of stuffed animals on the floor and tramped all over them!”
“I know, honey.” Romina stroked her younger daughter’s hair. “They’re cruel and unreasonable.”
“And that’s why we do what we do, right, Mama,” exclaimed Casper.
Romina glanced at Flynt. “Casper, hush.”
“Okay, Romina, this is it,” shouted the voice. “One…”
“Where’s the gun, Angelica?” Casper tugged on Angelica’s arm. “Let’s fight back this time. Shoot them.”
Flynt stared at the four Carrolls, who seemed prepared to let their door be broken down rather then opening it. “There’ll be no shooting,” he said sternly. “And no forced entry, either.”
“Hold on, we’re going to open the door,” he called as he strode to it.
The shouted threats and warnings stopped. Flynt felt the pressure of Angelica’s gun in the inside pocket of his jacket. If the intruders weren’t who they claimed to be, at least he was armed.
He opened the door to two uniformed policemen, one who appeared to be in his late thirties, the other about ten years younger. Flynt immediately picked out which was the FBI agent from the two men not in uniform. Mid-forties, conservative suit and shoes, neat haircut, definitely with the Bureau. The other guy was a run-of-the-mill private investigator, Flynt was certain of it; he recognized the breed.
What, he wondered, did this quartet want with Romina Carroll?
“Who are you?” growled the older police officer whose name tag identified him as Officer S. Webber.
“I guess you could say I’m a friend of the family,” Flynt replied, “or something along that line. And I’d like to see that search warrant, please.”
“Oh, TJ, I’m so glad it’s you!” Sarah rushed onto the porch and beamed at the younger policeman. “Would you search my room, please? I know you won’t throw stuff around and break my things on purpose like some people.” She shot the older officer a baleful glance. “That cop, Moffet, who was here last time was awful, Officer Webber. He should be fired.”
“I’m sure Moffet was just doing his job, young lady. And nobody deliberately breaks your things,” growled Webber. “If your mama decided to abide by the law, you wouldn’t have to go through this. We don’t like it any more than you do. Go on in with her, TJ, you might as well get started,” he instructed the other officer.
“C’mon, TJ,” invited Sarah. “Wait’ll you see what I—”
“Just a minute! No one is going inside until I’ve seen that search warrant,” Flynt commanded.
He sounded convincingly authoritative and legally knowledgeable and was aware that his casual attire could be attributed either to an undercover law enforcement officer or a lawyer.
The four men on the porch stayed where they were.
“Who’s he, Romina?” Officer Webber demanded. “Got yourself some legal aid? Or did another agency beat us over here?”
Flynt gave his card to Webber, who passed it around to the other three men. “I’m here on behalf of Angelica’s father’s family,” he added, not bothering to reveal his exact role.
“And they’re really rich and they’ll make you sorry you messed with us,” boasted Casper.
“What’s this about your father, Angelica?” TJ, the younger officer, looked astonished.
“Seems I have a father.” Angelica rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you more later.”
The FBI agent showed Flynt his credentials, identifying him as Glenn Weatherall from the local FBI field office. “Officers Webber and Gibson are with the Birmingham Police Department.” Weatherall indicated the uniformed officers with a nod toward them. “And this is Ike Searcy, a private investigator.”
Searcy produced his own card as Weatherall handed Flynt the warrant and a few other papers.
“Flynt can kick your butts, ’cause he’s not afraid of you. He used to be an FBI agent and he had a license to kill, just like James Bond. But then he decided to quit and get rich.” Casper ran around the porch like a manic puppy, darting among the four men. “And when we’re rich, we’re gonna—”
“Casper, hush!” hissed Romina. “And stay still! Sit down in that chair and don’t move!” She pointed to a wicker chair at the far end of the porch.
Casper flopped down on it, heaving a martyred sigh.
Flynt read through the papers he’d been given, then looked at Romina. “This is a valid search-and-seizure warrant, Romina.”
Romina glared at him, then at Webber. “So go on in and tear up my house again. I already put the usual stuff-to-be-seized in a box right by the phone. My address book, phone statements and bills, and bank statements—all together for your convenience. Did I leave anything out?”
“Credit card statements,” barked Searcy.
“We don’t use credit cards,” Angelica replied. “Mama believes in paying cash. It keeps you from living beyond your means and getting into debt.”
She was saying all the right words, but her tone was—well, too angelic, mused Flynt. As if she didn’t expect to be taken seriously.
“Oh, come on. We all know the true reason why you don’t use credit,” groused Webber. “Cash eliminates a paper trail.”
“This is such a big waste of time,” Romina huffed impatiently. “You won’t find anything here. You never do.”
“You mean anybody,” Searcy corrected. “Damn, we’re too late again! I know Darlene Carson and her kids were here. You’ve already helped them move on, Romina,” he added accusingly.
Romina shrugged. “You have a good imagination. Ever think of writing for TV?”
“You may as well get started,” Angelica spoke up. “I was going to go back to my apartment, but I’ll stay until they leave, Mama.”
“Thank you, Angel.” Romina gave her a little hug, then turned to the young policeman. “TJ, are you seeing Mara tonight?”
TJ’s face reddened and he nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“Be sure and tell her you helped tear up my house and upset my kids. Remember what Mara says about these raids, Angelica? How all the angry men stomping and yelling reminds her of that bully stepfather of hers, the one she ran away from. Remember, Angel?”
Angelica nodded. “I remember, Mama.”
“You should remember some things too, TJ,” Romina said to the young policeman who didn’t meet her steady gaze. “Remember that Mara Quinlan was my foster child from the time she was thirteen. That we were the only ones willing to help her get away from that monster her m
other married—the one your department finally got around to putting in jail after he nearly killed a man in a fight. You think about all that while you’re ransacking my house.”
“Give TJ a break, Mama.” Angelica heaved a sigh. “He’s just doing his job.”
“Yeah, like the Gestapo did theirs.” Romina scowled. “Did Mara ever tell you that she was here baby-sitting during that first raid, TJ? She wouldn’t open the door and the cops kicked it in. Poor Mara was scared to death, she was even more upset than Sarah and Casper who were only eleven and nine at the time. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when Mara told me she’d started dating a cop. After that raid, she was so hostile toward the police.”
TJ made a strangled sound and followed Sarah into the house.
“Mama, don’t try to make trouble for TJ with Mara,” Angelica warned her mother. “He’s a nice guy.”
“Don’t forget to add, ‘for a cop,’” drawled Flynt, unable to refrain from commenting.
“I’ve known TJ Gibson for years, long before he became a cop.” Angelica eyed him coolly. “He’s a nice guy, period.”
“Angel went to the Junior Prom with TJ. He was crazy about her. Of course, I can’t remember when Angelica hasn’t had guys crazy about her.” Romina’s smile could have been one of maternal pride—or of malice.
Flynt suspected the latter because she aimed it directly at him. As if he cared who Angelica had gone to the Junior Prom with…as if he cared if there were battalions of men lusting after her!
Of course he didn’t care. But he found himself wondering if there was currently a particular man in her life. He hadn’t investigated her private life for the Fortunes, other than her marital status and lack of offspring.
“Might as well go inside and have some iced tea.” Romina was suddenly, inexplicably cheerful. “The goon squad won’t be in the kitchen long, it’s too small for anybody to be hidden in there. Of course, our refrigerator does have a fairly big vegetable drawer. Think you’ll find somebody hiding out in it, Webber?”
“You’re a zillion laughs, Romina.” Webber pushed past her and marched inside.
“Can I have some iced tea, too, Mama?” Casper had jumped up from the chair and was circling the group.
“You can have a glass of milk,” said Romina. “It’s better for you.”
“Can I have some cookies?” the boy asked.
“They’re the special orders for campus delivery and—oh, all right, you can have one oatmeal cookie.” Romina entered the house. “But just one.”
“I want two, an oatmeal and a chocolate chip. I’m too skinny, I need to bulk up.” Casper continued to badger his mother as he trailed her inside.
“Okay, okay. You can have two. Now stop nagging!”
Angelica started after them. Flynt caught her arm, pulling her back to him.
“The warrant, the search, the items listed to be seized as evidence—” he took a sharp breath “—this is serious business, Angelica. The affidavit cites possible federal charges against your mother for aiding and abetting a fugitive and for violating custody laws. Conspiracy and obstruction of justice charges are mentioned. And then there are additional state charges filed in New Jersey for interfering with custody arrangements. I don’t get it. What on earth is your mother—”
“My mother doesn’t deserve to be treated like a common criminal,” Angelica said stiffly. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop it from happening.”
Flynt noticed that she was staring at Weatherall and Searcy as she spoke, her words directed to them as much as to him. The two men had remained on the porch while the uniformed officers were inside the house, presumably searching and seizing.
What were they looking for? Flynt wondered. Or who? He was truly flummoxed.
“Did you use to work for the Bureau, like the kid said, Corrigan?” Weatherall asked him curiously.
“For seven years.” Flynt nodded. “Minus the license to kill of course.” Maybe supplying a few details of his former career would win him some information in exchange. “I was based in California. Mostly Silicon Valley, investigating economic espionage.”
“No kidding?” Weatherall looked interested. “I’ve heard there’s a lot of industrial espionage and commercial spying out there in those high-tech companies.”
“Research and development, manufacturing and marketing plans, and customer lists are all at risk,” affirmed Flynt.
“Also heard you electronic whiz kids are always being lured away from the Bureau by private industry. You can name your own price when you decide to leave,” Weatherall added, a little wistfully.
Flynt shrugged. “I decided I’d rather be my own boss, so I started Security Management Systems five years ago. Agent Weatherall, would you mind telling me what’s going on around here?”
“Seems pretty obvious.” Searcy was sarcastic. “The cops are searching the place. Whiz kid like you couldn’t figure that out?”
Flynt ignored him. “I tracked down Romina Carroll for the Fortune Corporation and found no record of any criminal activity,” he persisted.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. Romina’s never been charged with anything. Probably never will be, at this rate,” Weatherall said, his tone consoling. “She’s downright gifted at making investigators feel stupid.”
“Did you ever consider that you feel stupid because Mama is not a criminal and that’s why she’s never been charged with anything?” Angelica argued crossly. She looked up at Flynt, her dark eyes glittering. “The reason you didn’t find records of criminal activity is because there aren’t any.”
“Yeah, Romina is a regular heroine,” Searcy said snidely. “So I guess that makes Ted Carson and me the villains, huh, babe?”
“You said it, not me,” snapped Angelica.
She looked like she wanted to rip out Searcy’s lungs with her bare hands. Flynt made a mental note not to ever call her “babe.” And then he realized that he was still holding her arm, just above the elbow. Unable to stop himself, he lightly stroked the inner skin with his thumb. It was exquisitely soft, smooth as satin, and he felt the effects deep down inside him.
Angelica’s heart jumped at the subtle caress. She swiftly glanced down to see Flynt’s fingers wrapped around her arm and realized how strange it was that she had actually forgotten he was holding on to her. But she’d remained unaware of it until…
His thumb continued its gentle, sensuous movements. She lifted her eyes to his. Her heartbeat seemed to be roaring in her head. It felt good, having Flynt touch her. So good she wanted more. Angelica shivered and moved even closer to him, seized by an impulsive urge to press herself against him. The urge swiftly was transformed into yearning, deep and unfamiliar, yet thoroughly enticing.
She jerked up her head and locked eyes with Flynt. Oh, his eyes! If eyes were the window to the soul, as poets claimed, then Flynt’s was an alert, intelligent and breathtakingly sexy one. The turn her thoughts had taken astonished her. But then, never before had she looked into a man’s eyes and felt such—such—
Desire. The admission hit her hard. Angelica panicked. Her inexplicable affinity for Flynt Corrigan was leading her down a road she was too apprehensive, too controlled to dare to go.
It was dangerous for her to have these feelings. Not to mention stupid. Angelica attempted to whip herself back into her safe, smart preFlynt self.
“Let go of my arm right now or I’ll—” She paused to think of a suitable threat. None came to mind. Truth be told, she didn’t want him to let go of her arm. What a scary admission!
“Here’s an idea for you, babe. Assault him.” Searcy sniggered. “Maybe putting you in the slammer would give us the leverage we need to bargain with that psycho mother of yours.”
“There is no need for insults,” Flynt said, dropping his hand from Angelica’s arm. “Angelica’s mother isn’t psycho.”
Angelica reluctantly moved away from him. He’d released her and now she had no choice but to put distance between them
. And she didn’t want to. If her reaction to Flynt’s touch had unnerved her, his defense of her mother made her want to throw her arms around him. She wasn’t used to having someone stand up for her, and she liked it.
She liked it too much. Angelica was nervous again.
“Anyway, I truly don’t think an assault on Corrigan by little Angelica would result in charges being drawn up against her,” Weatherall pointed out amiably. “Corrigan might’ve left the bureau, but he hasn’t turned into a flaccid desk jockey who gets himself clobbered by a woman.”
“Obviously not.” Searcy directed a leer toward the vicinity of Flynt’s groin, where his hardening arousal was becoming apparent against the metal-buttoned fly of his jeans.
Weatherall coughed and gazed discreetly in the other direction. Angelica abruptly turned and rushed into the house, slamming the door behind her.
Flynt felt his face flush a dark crimson. She must’ve looked—and what she’d seen hadn’t pleased her. He stifled a groan.
“A little friendly advice, from me to you,” Searcy offered Flynt. “Sure, she’s a hot babe, but you’d be crazy to get mixed up with her. Her mother is trouble spelled in capitals, and the girl’s gotta be, too.”
“I’m not mixed up with her,” Flynt said weakly. His denial sounded lame even to himself. “Angelica Carroll’s father—and his family—are clients of mine.”
“I’m going inside,” Weatherall announced.
Flynt was grateful for the chance to change the subject. “Do you expect to find what you’re looking for?”
“No. I agree with Searcy. If Darlene Carson was here before, she isn’t now. And Romina is a real pro when it comes to getting rid of every trace of evidence. We can go over this house with a fine-tooth comb and never confirm that Darlene and those kids were ever here. Wonder what—or who—tipped them off this time?”
Searcy uttered an expletive and tossed down the butt of his cigarette before trooping into the house after Weatherall. Flynt went in, too, though he felt certain Angelica wasn’t going to be pleased to see him. So why was he so eager to see her? Flynt’s lips curved into a hard, self-mocking smile. And if he were honest with himself, he wanted to do more than just look at Angelica again. Much more…
A Fortune's Children's Wedding Page 4
