Before The Fall

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Hey, congrats on the big day.” Then the girl’s gaze settled on the dull knife hacking through the delicate material. “Uh…I think.”

  “Thanks.” Fighting with a stubborn lace frill, Angela nearly growled her response.

  Wide-eyed, the teen lifted the toddler and scurried away. A moment later the stillness was punctured by short bursts of smothered giggles emanating from the middle stall.

  Angela ignored the irritating sound and worked as quickly as she could. The raggedy hem of the skirt dipped and rose in choppy waves a few inches below her knees. Not pretty, but she certainly felt better, as if she’d been freed from quicksand.

  She considered tearing out the sleeves, as well, but she probably wouldn’t be able to make a run for it until later that evening when the air would be cool. She settled for ridding herself of the drippy lace at her elbows, then the stuff around the bodice. She checked the mirror and saw that she’d managed to lower the neckline enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. Now she merely looked like a debutante at a garden party instead of a bride, Angela thought wryly.

  A debutante with a hole in her head. She quickly adjusted her hair, covering the bald spot that seemed to grow larger each time she saw it.

  The dress still drew a reaction from both customers and staff as she made her way back to the table now mounded with food. All the customers continued to be mesmerized by the sight of her. Kaminsky’s eyes were especially appreciative, the blue deepening to the glow of the night sky following sunset. He seemed to be looking at her not as a fugitive but as a woman.

  And the primal woman inside her responded, making her a little slow on the uptake when he asked, “For me? You shouldn’t have.”

  She blinked, noting that a tiny dimple creased his right cheek when he smiled. “Don’t worry—I didn’t”

  Slowly she sat and chastised herself. She had to keep sharp. On top of things. She needed to regroup, to regain control of her life. Always a winner, she planned to stay that way…no matter what she had to do.

  The last thought stuck in her craw. What would she have to do?

  “I thought you were hungry.”

  She snapped out of her thoughts and inhaled the mouthwatering aromas. “Starving.”

  What followed was nothing short of a competition. Bite for bite. Sip for sip. Swallow for swallow. Forget conversation, polite or otherwise. Her mother had always called her a healthy eater—a lumberjack was more like it. Luckily, she had a cooperative metabolism. She’d never eaten this much at a single sitting, though. And from the size of him, she guessed Kaminsky could go her one better.

  Halfway through the meal, when he showed signs of slowing down, she was mightily relieved and allowed herself to do the same.

  He leaned against his booth back and washed down half a cup of coffee in one gulp. “So…you never did say why Mariscano set you up. How did you get yourself into this fix in the first place?”

  She didn’t miss the intimation that he figured it was her fault. “Probably by not being cooperative.”

  “Big surprise.”

  “Mariscano wanted to buy into our business and I said ‘No, thanks.’“

  “What would a big-time entrepreneur want with a company that specializes in weddings?”

  “You mean a crook,” she said flatly. “And that was the same question I asked myself.”

  “So what was your conclusion?”

  “That he thought I had hidden interests—”

  “Because of your father,” he interjected.

  “…which I don’t. And my father has absolutely no hand in the business.”

  “Okay, what about this—how about giving Mariscano the benefit of the doubt as far as your troubles with the law are concerned—”

  “Why should I?” It was her turn to interrupt.

  “And see if you can’t come up with someone else who has reason to want you out of the way.”

  Out of the way…

  He made it sound as though she were an inconvenience. Or a stumbling block.

  Frowning at the last, she said, “Fingering Mariscano wasn’t a snap judgment on my part.”

  But he continued to play devil’s advocate. “Maybe Mariscano only wanted to make sure his daughter had the wedding of the century and thought he could do that better if he owned a piece of the action.”

  “That must be why he threatened me when I turned him down,” Angela said, yet remembering the way he’d looked at DeeDee. “No doubt he assumes his daughter will always love him, no matter what he does.”

  Face wreathed in the strangest expression, Kaminsky said, “It’s hard to stop loving someone, even when you know the things they do are wrong.”

  If he meant she must still love her father, he was way off base. About to slap him with a tart response, Angela bit her tongue before she could make a fool of herself. Of course he’d meant DeeDee and her father.

  Instead, she merely said, “Don’t generalize. What’s true for little DeeDee isn’t necessarily true for everyone.” Especially not for her.

  “All right. So we’ll make it a given that Mariscano’s motives weren’t pure,” he went on. “He assumes your father is part of your operation because he knows you’re a family person. He can see that from the way you all worked together to build Here Comes the Bride.”

  Angela wondered if everyone in the country knew every detail of her life. “Right. Me, my mother and my siblings.”

  “Your father couldn’t be around.”

  He was talking about her. Any appetite she might have left vanished.

  “We wouldn’t have had to build a new business if he had been! And, please, don’t make it sound nice, like he was on a vacation or something. He was incarcerated. In prison, where he belonged!” she added vehemently.

  “You’re bitter.”

  “Realistic.”

  “And still trying to make up for it.”

  His conclusion stunned her. “You mean make up for him? Not hardly. He’s not worth it. I’m not one to let myself down. Or those I love.” She spelled it out for him. “My mother, Benedict and Petra.”

  “I’m sure your father never meant to hurt you. What he did for a living didn’t affect his feelings for his family.”

  “What he did was illegal!”

  Expression odd, he said, “No one’s born a crook, but anyone can be influenced by circumstances. Your father made a big mistake—”

  “A mistake?” she echoed in disbelief.

  “In judgment,” Kaminsky clarified, “when he chose to hook up with the wrong people. Unless you believe he’s evil.”

  “I never said that.” Angela had thought she was immune to the confused feelings the bounty hunter was stirring up inside. She spoke over the lump in her throat. “Besides, mistakes can be corrected.”

  “Sometimes. If one wrong move doesn’t lead to another and another and another until they trap a person. Whatever your father’s situation, his wrong choices had nothing to do with how much he cared for his family.”

  “His choices ruined his family.”

  “Did they? Or did they make you stronger?”

  What business did Kaminsky have dredging up her past? And why did he seem to be on her father’s side?

  Unable to tolerate more, Angela donned the poker face she used when dealing with unpleasant business issues. “Time’s flying. I’m ready to leave.”

  He stared at her as if trying to figure out whether or not he should press the issue. Then he recouped. “Your food—”

  “Is cold. Can we go now?”

  Thankfully, he didn’t argue, merely picked up the check and retrieved his wallet. Angela stared at the worn leather. When he opened it, she got a glimpse of a couple of fifties nestled behind the smaller bills. He had to be carrying nearly two hundred dollars in cash.

  She was considering ways to get her hands on that money when her pulse suddenly surged.

  Stealing—no matter how insignificant an amount—was against everything she believed
in. And yet she wouldn’t get far without funds, and the need to put distance between them as soon as possible plagued her.

  Food had charged the man’s batteries. He appeared vital. Intense. But the truth lay in his eyes. The weanness lurking within. The dark hollows below. As desperately as he needed sleep, his newfound energy wouldn’t last long. His blood sugar was just waiting to nose-dive.

  And when he finally crashed, she’d be waiting to take advantage.

  As for the money…

  Angela would find a way to borrow some. She chose to consider the money a loan, whether or not she had Micah Kaminsky’s consent. Vowing to repay every single penny, even the breakfast check, relaxed her scruples a tad.

  “Maybe you’d better use the facilities before we get back on the road,” he suggested. “It may be some time before we stop again.”

  “Not necessary,” she returned stiffly.

  “You’re sure?”

  He leaned across the table and cupped her chin with firm fingers, then rubbed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Surprised, she couldn’t move for a moment as the rough pad stroked the soft flesh of her lower lip….

  Realizing she was letting him get to her on a physical as well as an emotional level, Angela jerked her head back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Egg yolk. Though I do enjoy an enthusiastic eater, I don’t need to be reminded of the menu.”

  He held out his thumb so she could see the bit of crusted yellow he’d removed.

  Heat warming her neck, she flew to her feet. “Fine.

  I’ll be right back.”

  “You won’t find me here. The car needs gas, remember.”

  “Outside, then.”

  “Don’t—”

  “Try anything,” she finished for him. “I know. I know.”

  She couldn’t wait to get out of his company.

  For good.

  MICAH SAVORED watching Angela flounce across the room, the heat of anger and embarrassment adding a provocative cadence to her movements.

  Also glad that he’d be rid of her for a few minutes, he rose and approached the cash register. Now he could try making the call again. He’d had the perfect opportunity while she’d been butchering that dress. Too bad he hadn’t been able to get through.

  Handing the check to the waitress with enough money to include a generous tip, he whipped out of the restaurant. The place was jumping with vehicles—a variety of cars and four-by-fours, as well as the eighteen-wheelers. He took a good look around. It wouldn’t do to let down his guard. But all he saw were truckers and ordinary people. Several families on summer vacations.

  The cell phone was in his hand even as he started the car. He punched the number by memory as he pulled over to a recently vacated gas pump.

  One ring…two…

  “Yeah” came the familiar voice on the other end. “Talk to me.”

  “I have her.” He left the car and removed the cap to the gas tank, his gaze constantly on the move, addressing the people around him. “We’re on the way.”

  “About time. I expected to hear from you before this.”

  “We ran into a hitch,” Micah informed him. “Unforeseen trouble.”

  “What did she do?”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, he had to grin. Angela Dragon was predictable in her unpredictability. “Not her…though you were right. She isn’t easy to handle.”

  “But you’ll manage.”

  “As agreed.”

  “Good. How soon can I expect delivery?”

  “I’m not sure. A couple of days.” He started the gas pump. “We’d be on the westbound train if we hadn’t run into that hitch at Union Station.” Micah tried not to sound ticked when he added, “You didn’t say anything about danger.”

  “I didn’t think I had to spell it out for you!” the other man growled. “Hey, you ever heard of flying?”

  “On one of those things with wings?” Micah laced his tone with sarcasm to cover his true reaction. “Too obvious. I said I’d do it, but I do it my way or not at all.”

  The long pause made him wonder if he’d gone too far until the other man said, “However you can make it work.”

  That settled, Micah quickly went over the itinerary he had in mind…assuming everything went like clockwork.

  “You’re taking the scenic route?”

  “Any objections?”

  “Yeah, I got objections…but I trust your judgment. Just get her back.”

  From the corner of his eye Micah spotted movement at the restaurant door, which swung open, raggedy white skirts preceding the wearer.

  “She’s coming. I have to go.”

  “Keep in touch.”

  Having thrown his vest over the bucket seat, Micah slipped the phone into one of the pockets. Then he returned to nurse the gas nozzle and watched Angela stalk over to him. He noticed she’d unpinned her remaining curls. The breeze whipped the hair around her face and played havoc with his imagination.

  He could picture the sea of dark waves splayed across a pillow next to him….

  Though he could tell she was still angry, she was doing her best not to show it. But the pleasant smile she pasted on her lips served to warn him she was up to something. He narrowed his gaze and stared at her suspiciously. She smiled harder and slid into the passenger seat.

  The pump clicked. The rush of gas stopped.

  “Tank’s full,” he announced. “We’re off as soon as I pay.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Would she?

  Micah’s well-honed instincts told him Angela was getting ready to jump again. Something about that smile…the shuttered eyes…the way she held her body.

  Where in the world did she think she was going to hide from him dressed so conspicuously?

  Not to mention that she had no identification and no money.

  Sauntering to the cashier’s window where a line had already formed ahead of him, he kept one eye on the Thunderbird. Angela sat still as a statue. For now. But what if she figured out some way to unlock the door….

  All she had to do was stick one toe out onto the pavement and he’d be all over her.

  And then she’d pay the consequences.

  ANGELA BARELY WAITED until the bounty hunter’s back was to her before acting. Keeping an eye on him, she sneaked a hand over to his discarded vest and the pocket where he stashed the cell phone.

  A little time out of his company had given her the opportunity to think things through. To decide she needed to call in the cavalry despite wanting to do things herself. Micah Kaminsky had put a kink in her plans, and now the odds were against her succeeding alone.

  Besides, she was only going to ask Douglas to get her some information. It wasn’t as if she was involving him physically or putting him at risk, she thought, guilt niggling at her. She wouldn’t do that to the man she…was dating. Honest with herself, she knew that while she’d had some reflective thoughts about their future together, Douglas was far more serious about their relationship than she was.

  Angela figured this to be another consequence of her father’s mistaken choices. She’d never been able to trust a man enough to open her heart.

  Leaving her hand lower than the dash, she watched Kaminsky while her fingers flew over the key pad. Only three people ahead of him. She would have to make this quick. She shifted to her side and lowered her cheek to the seat back, slipping the receiver between her ear and the cushion. She hoped the bounty hunter would assume she was merely trying to get comfortable…and that the fall of her hair camouflaged the phone as she’d planned when she’d freed it.

  The phone rang several times. Disappointment at not finding Douglas at home edged through her. She tried his cellular phone number. Two rings and he answered.

  “Yes?”

  Relief swept through her. “It’s Angela.”

  “Sweetheart, where are you?” His voice was intense with worry. “Marcie said you hadn’t been at work all day, and I’v
e left several messages on your machine.”

  Checking on the bounty hunter, she said, “I’m on my way back from Chicago.”

  Only two people left ahead of him.

  “Dear Lord, you went after Mariscano yourself! I was afraid of this. I would have gone with you. You’re all right, aren’t you?”

  “I’m fine and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to involve you. Only now I need to.”

  “What time is your flight? I’ll meet you, of course.”

  “No flight…for the moment. A bounty hunter named Micah Kaminsky is escorting me the long way home.”

  Her mouth went dry when he glanced her way, but apparently her plan was working, for he turned back as the next customer stepped up to the window.

  “Where are you now?” “Some truck stop in Wisconsin. Kaminsky plans to take U.S. 90 across Minnesota and South Dakota, but I hope to be long gone before we cross the state line.”

  “Darling, don’t do anything foolish,” Douglas begged. “A recovery agent will expect his reward. He may shoot you rather than let you escape. Say, have you offered him money to let you go?”

  “Among other things,” she muttered. That he was so worried about her made her uncomfortable. “Unfortunately, he seems to be incorruptible.”

  “That is too bad. What is it you want me to do?”

  “Contact the private investigator Jenkins hired. Have him find out what he can about Frank Gonnella and a wild card—Wily something.”

  “Who are these people?”

  She was so involved in giving him a quick recap that she didn’t realize anything was wrong until a beep alerted her. The next thing she knew, the door flew open, a hand gripped her upper arm and she was hauled out of the vehicle to face one furious bounty hunter.

  Chapter Six

  “I knew you were up to something!” Feeling as if he were hanging on to a writhing pit viper, Micah grabbed the cell phone and brought it to his ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

  He listened to silence followed by a dial tone.

  Angela continued to fight him. Futilely. Though he wasn’t hurting her, he had an ungiving grip on her arm directly above the elbow. And he wasn’t ready to release her yet.