by Rita Herron
Panic made her pulse jump, but Paul pulled her closer, and she glanced up and saw his eyes roving over her with such love that her fears faded like raindrops on hot pavement.
Today was her day, and she refused to let her mother’s nagging voice or Kim’s fretting or her own traitorous insecurities ruin her Cinderella wedding.
Pastor Joe, one of Paul’s college buddies who’d gotten his license over the Internet, cleared his throat. “Today is a glorious day. Paul Pendergrass and Marci Turner have come together to recite their nuptials.”
His tanned face glowed an orange shade in the candlelight service, and Marci almost broke into giggles. She laughed when she was nervous.
Not good during a funeral but during a wedding was tolerable.
Still, Paul frowned at her.
Get a grip, Marci. This is a high-class wedding. Why, the wedding coordinator at the country club had even pulled strings to have a society columnist here to showcase their event!
Although for some reason that escaped her, Paul hadn’t been very happy about that, and so far had avoided the woman.
Her heart melted again. He was so kind but so modest. He must not like all the attention.
“And now it’s time for the recital of the couple’s vows.” Pastor Joe smiled and glanced across the room at the lace-draped seats filled with their friends. “But first as tradition holds, I must ask. Is there anyone here who has just reason to oppose this wedding? If so, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
For a moment, Marci tensed, terrified all the exotic, rich, more educated worldly women from Paul’s past would fly out of the woodwork like bees and scream that they had to stop the wedding. But not a single gorgeous blond, sexy brunette or fiery redhead shot up from their seats.
Although the crowd shifted restlessly. And a dark-haired man emerged from the white curtains to the side. He had the body of a linebacker and eyes so dark they looked black. He was also stalking toward them like some kind of predator.
Her heart sputtered. What in the world was he doing? He almost looked as if he was going to protest.
Impossible. No…he had to be part of the wait staff. But if there was a problem with the reception, couldn’t he wait until they said their I Dos?
Pastor Joe shifted nervously, then jerked his head toward the man, his right eye twitching.
Paul gripped her fingers so tightly she thought she heard one of the bones crack. And she could have sworn panic flared in his eyes.
“Let’s move on then,” Pastor Joe said hurriedly.
“No.” The big hulking guy threw up a hand. “I can’t hold my peace.”
Marci gasped. What in heaven’s name?
“Paul?” she squeaked.
“Paul Pendergrass and Marci Turner.” The man flashed a badge. “My name is Detective Cade Muller. You are under arrest for one hundred and ten counts of fraud.”
Marci gaped at him in shock, then turned to Paul just as the detective yanked a pair of handcuffs from his belt.
“This is a mistake,” she whispered. Surely her fiancé would clear this up in seconds. “Tell them, Paul.”
But Paul was so pale he looked like he might faint. A second later, he leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, then mouthed the words, “Dammit, Marci, I told you not to run that picture in the paper!”
With a jerk of his hand, he released her and took off running.
*~*~*~*
The son of a bitch was running.
And leaving his bride behind.
Coward.
Marci hiked up her dress and started chasing after him. “Paul, come back here!”
“There goes the groom!” someone shouted.
The crowd erupted into shouts and pandemonium. Cade vaulted in action, chasing after Marci who was chasing Pendergrass.
The damn man wove through the crowd of blue-hairs who must have thought their prince charming was innocent, because they parted like the Red Sea creating a path for his escape, then seemed to gather and move in herds to block his way.
“He is not a fraud!” several women shouted.
“How dare you ruin this wedding!” a haughty voice yelled.
“Marci, wait!” Kim toddled after Marci, her husband Austin shouldering his way through the milieu to help out.
Pastor Joe and the best man disappeared behind a back curtain. Georgia was closer so she dashed after them.
Suddenly a gunshot exploded.
Screams filled the air as the guests ducked and began to run, scattering like ants at a picnic.
Cade pulled his own weapon, pivoting to see where the gunshot had come from. The left maybe? Behind the curtain?
Another shot rang out, and Marci screamed as it sailed by her head. The groom jogged toward the door, stooping down to dodge the bullets.
Guests knocked over chairs and banged tables in their haste to escape, ripping lace bows and tripping over each other. Cameras flashed, a little lady in a pink dress fainted, creating another scene as shouts for a doctor echoed through the room.
Marci’s dress caught on the heel of her shoe, and she ripped them off and flung them to the side. They hit a table of booze, and scotch and bourbon bottles crashed to the marble floor, the rich brown liquid flowing like a brown river.
Pendergrass slammed into the table holding the wedding cake, and the three-tiered wedding cake toppled over. Kim slipped in the frosting, but her husband managed to catch her just in time before she hit the floor.
Cade didn’t know whether to go after the damn shooter or Pendergrass. He tapped his mike, hoping Georgia heard. “We need back up in here. Shots fired!”
Marci raced past the vases of flowers in the foyer of the country club to the entryway, and he followed, close on her heels. A black limousine sat in front of the club awaiting the happy couple to carry them to their honeymoon night, but Pendergrass jumped into it like it was a getaway car.
Cade saw the driver and realized it was Vinny. Pastor Joe was in the front seat. The car accelerated, and the vehicle raced off.
A few feet down, a Camaro roared to life and followed. The shooter?
Where the hell was Georgia?
A moan erupted from the columns to the right, and he spotted her lying on the ground by a row of azaleas and hurried to her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Georgia said. “I’ll put an APB on the limo and that Camaro. Go get the bride!”
Guests spilled out of the building, flooding the steps and pristine lawn, cameras flashing.
“Paul, don’t leave me!” Marci wailed as she ran after the limo.
The limo was going so fast Marci couldn’t catch them, so she darted to the right toward a beat-up VW.
Dammit, she wasn’t going to get away, too.
Cade dashed down the steps two at a time, sped up and caught her just as she grabbed the door handle.
“Marci Turner,” he said as he gripped her arm.
Marci tried to jerk away. “Stop it, you’re hurting me.”
He eased his hold on her but didn’t release her. Instead he whipped out his handcuffs, spun her around and forced her to face him. “Then stop fighting me, or I’ll add resisting arrest to the charges against you.”
Tears suddenly filled her eyes, glittering like diamonds on her eyelashes.
He gritted his teeth. Holy hell. He felt like he was kicking a frail kitten.
Then he reminded himself of the charges against her, of all the footage he’d watched of her and Pendergrass sweet talking little old women out of their savings, and he hardened himself.
For God’s sake, his own grandmother had fallen for their stunt.
Marci Turner was no kitten.
She was a dangerous tiger in disguise.
“Please, I need to go after him,” Marci whispered. “You’ve made a terrible mistake. Paul will clear this all up.”
“Save it for your lawyer.” He spun her around, shoved her hands behind her back and fastened the handcuffs. She might be sexy and a good actress,
but he would not fall for her charms.
A little voice inside his head whispered -- she’s innocent until proven guilty.
But he closed his mind to the thought. How many perps had he arrested that were actually innocent?
None.
Besides, she was marrying Pendergrass. That made her guilty in his book.
There was no way she’d gotten that close to the crook and not known what he was up to.
*~*~*~*
Marci nearly choked on a sob as the detective snapped the handcuffs around her wrists. Dad blast it! How had this happened?
This was supposed to be her Cinderella wedding, and now it had turned into a fiasco.
“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can be held against you…”
The big bull of a cop’s words faded as Marci saw the society columnist snapping photos. The lawn of the country club was a mass of well-dressed shocked guests who, on close scrutiny, had torn lace, satin bows and cake on their shoes.
And judging from their mutinous looks, they were either going to defend her or tar and feather her.
But her heart was hurting too much to worry about them right now. This man had not only ruined her wedding with these ridiculous claims, but Paul had run off and left her!
She sucked back a sob, grateful she’d been smart enough to wear-waterproof mascara. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “Why?”
The detective’s steely gaze met hers. “Because you and your fiancé ripped off half of the people here with your phony resort scam.”
“What?” Marci’s head reeled. More lights flashed, that woman she’d seen chasing Pastor Joe appeared, and Kim was fighting her way through the crowd toward her.
“Let me through. That’s my sister up there!”
This could not be happening. Kim had always harped that she had to clean up Marci’s messes, and now this?
As if things weren’t bad enough, thunder suddenly rumbled, the spring sky turning a dark gray.
Something must have rattled the guests even more because they came at her in droves. “What’s going on, Marci?”
“What’s this about fraud?” an elderly man asked.
“Are you saying that resort property was a scam?” someone else shouted.
That comment brought a round of accusations and screaming, and a few women who started crying and sobbing.
“You mean we’ve lost everything?”
“He stole our money?”
Another lady shook her finger at Marci. “We trusted you, but you robbed us?”
Marci shook her head in denial just as the first raindrops splattered the pavement. She had no idea what was going on. The detective had to be wrong. Paul wouldn’t cheat these kind people.
And he’d never lie to her.
Although a seed of doubt spread in her belly.
But he had left her to deal with this mess, left her at the altar. Ran like a coward…like he was guilty…
Two more police cars screeched up, officers jumping out and rushing toward them. Lightning streaked the tops of the oaks and several of the older women took cover.
“Search the inside ballroom for bullet casings,” Detective Muller said. “And contain the guests. Question each and every one of them and take down their contact information. Somebody took a shot at Pendergrass. I want to know who it was.”
Marci shifted restlessly. Could the shooter have been one of their guests?
Detective Muller studied her like she was some mangy dog, then dragged her toward his car. She stubbed her toe on a crack in the cement, and tears stung her eyes as she realized her pedicure was completely ruined and her toe was bleeding.
Oblivious, the detective pushed her head down to force her into the car, and her tiara fell to the ground beside the car as he slammed the door shut.
Cameras flashed again, and Marci buried her head into her torn veil just as the clouds unleashed the rain. She should be taking wedding photographs now.
Instead in a few minutes, she would be posing for her mug shot.
CHAPTER THREE
Cade steeled himself against any sympathy for Marci Turner as the floodgates began to pour. She was nothing but a liar and a cheat.
A damn good liar and a pretty cheat, but she was still a criminal.
She had helped Pendergrass by introducing him to the women at the restaurant where she’d waitressed. And she’d flirted her way into the male target’s graces with those short skirts, endless legs and pouty red lips.
And that tattoo…dammit, he liked that tattoo.
But he would not fall under her charms like the other fools.
“I sent pictures of Pendergrass and his partners statewide,” Georgia said as she climbed in the front seat.
“Thanks.” Cade tried to tune out the sound of Marci’s sobs which mingled with the thunder as he sank into the driver’s side. Suddenly the woman’s sister flew toward the car and banged on the glass.
“Stop it, you can’t do this to my sister,” she shouted.
Cade gritted his teeth and cracked the window. “Move away from the window, Ma’am, or I’ll arrest you, too.”
Her eyes flared with indignation, but her husband tugged her away from the car as rain pummeled her.
In the rearview mirror, he saw Marci raise her tear-stained face from her veil and mouth I’m sorry to her sister.
Sorry for embarrassing her by being arrested, or for cheating innocent people?
He started the engine just as some of the guests raced inside to take cover from the storm. Good for them.
At least, they could mollify their worries with the free food and booze Pendergrass had paid for with their money.
*~*~*~*
Marci clenched her handcuffed hands together as the hateful detective sped away from the country club. Apparently he had a screen that divided the backseat from the front to protect him from dangerous criminals.
People like her.
Probably a good thing since right now she wanted to choke him.
She wanted to choke Paul, too.
How could he have left her at the mercy of this cop?
And who in hell’s bells had been shooting at her?
Hysterical laughter mingled with panic, and she released a hyena noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a cry. As if to mock her, the thunder grew louder, the clouds unleashing a torrent.
She had had such dreams when she’d woken up this morning. Dreams of wearing her beautiful wedding gown, which was now tattered and stained. Of walking down the aisle with her father, which never happened. Of saying vows to the man she loved and having him sweep her off her feet into his arms for their first dance.
Then into the bedroom for some hot kinky sex.
Shoot, she had imagined herself in handcuffs, but not these hard metal things that were cutting into her wrists -- the furry red ones she’d packed for the honeymoon. And instead of a police car, she’d envisioned herself handcuffed to a plush bed while her adoring husband fed her chocolate-covered strawberries, drizzled champagne over her belly and licked it off.
Then she’d wake up and be Mrs. Pendergrass, the shame of her wild days behind her, and she’d start a new life, a respectable one, where Kim would be proud of her and she was somebody.
She caught an image of her disheveled appearance in the mirror and winced.
Oh, she was somebody all right. Real high society.
Tomorrow morning everyone in Atlanta would wake up to see her picture plastered across the television, newspapers and Internet.
Bride Arrested at Her Own Wedding.
And where was her groom?
He’d hightailed it out of there…
Probably flying to Tahiti to relax in that decadent honeymoon suite with the heart-shaped bed while she spent the night in the clinker.
*~*~*~*
By the time they reached the police station, the news had spread about the shooting and arrest at the country club. Cade cursed as the media
assaulted them when he drove into the parking lot of the jail.
“Jesus,” Georgia said. “Must be a slow night.”
“How the hell did they find out so quickly?” Cade growled. He hated the press almost as much as he hated the crooks he put behind bars.
“Someone probably videoed it and put it on YouTube,” Georgia said. “And the Twitter followers have probably sent it nationwide.”
Behind him, Marci groaned and buried her head in her hands. He almost felt sorry for her. She looked like a drowned rat.
And tonight was going to get worse.
But then his sweet Nana’s face flashed in his mind, her cheeks streaked with tears of grief when she realized her life savings had been flushed down the drain, and any sympathy fled.
“I’ll try to hold off the vultures while you haul her in.” Georgia smoothed down her navy jacket then climbed from the car and stepped toward the press. A series of black umbrellas filled the front steps as if they were waiting on a funeral procession.
He opened his door, daring the weasel with the microphone who darted toward him to approach.
The others descended on Georgia like rabid dogs, shouting questions.
“Was anyone injured in the country club shooting?” one of the reporters asked.
“You caught the Desert Sand con man?” another shouted.
He opened the back door to the squad car, grimacing at the way Marci was huddled inside that ridiculous dress. It looked like a big ball of cotton candy tangled around her.
“Come on,” he said. “You can’t hide out in there all night.”
She shoved the veil from her eyes and glared at him. “You don’t have to be so mean,” she said. “I didn’t do anything to you.”
Fury heated his blood, and he leaned in, so close that his head swirled from her sultry perfume.
Perfume or not, dammit, she was a crook. And one of the worst because she wore such an innocent shell to deceive people.
“No, but you and your little boyfriend cheated my grandmother, one of the kindest, most giving women on this Earth out of money she earned ironing clothes for other people. So get out of the car before I drag your ass out, throw you over my shoulder and haul you through the crowd.” He gestured toward the handful of reporters. “Or maybe you like all this attention, and you want that picture in the news, too.”
