by Nora Flite
It was a quick trip, most of the grass was flat and even. When we turned into the garden, I tried to lift my dress and step over a few rocks. My weight shifted too fast—I started to fall, my ankle going out under me. “Aah!”
Firm, strong arms circled my waist and under one arm. Kain cradled me against him, his chest on my mostly naked back. “Careful,” he said in my ear. “Don’t want you getting hurt. Then how will you tempt all the boys with your fancy hip moves?”
One heartbeat. Two. That was how long it took for me to decide I shouldn’t be settling in this man’s comfortable embrace. “Hah,” I mumbled, standing quickly. “That’s ironic, coming from a guy who probably keeps notches on his headboard.”
“Excuse me,” he said, adjusting his crimson tie. “I’m classier than you realize. I keep a list on my laptop, thank you.”
Was it worse if he was joking? Did I want him to be the cocky playboy I’d pegged him for, or was it possible he wasn’t . . . and that scared me more?
Shaking myself, I hurried—carefully—after Francesca. Inside the white tent, her mother and the priest were waiting. “Oh, there you are!” Mama Badd gasped. Ignoring me, she pulled Kain closer. Dusting off his shoulders, she pressed an orange boutonniere into his pocket. “Now remember, you go when the music starts, but not before your cousins.”
“I got it, Mom,” he said, kissing her cheek.
Crouching, Francesca petted her little dog. Someone had set him up with a tiny silver vest, a box tied to his collar. “Mic! You’re so cute!” The dog wiggled, licking her cheek.
The priest smiled kindly. “I’d better get up to the altar. See you in a few minutes.”
“Me too,” Mama Badd sighed. With a final pinch of her daughter’s cheek, she beamed. “I’m so happy. I’ve already ruined two packs of tissues. Make me proud, honey.” Fluffing her dress layers, she slipped out of the tent, followed by the priest.
Francesca stood up, flapping her hands at her hips. “This is it. It’s happening. Ah, oh no, I’m sweating. Can you tell?” Her skin had turned an amazing cranberry color.
“You’re fine,” I consoled her, handing her a tissue from the box someone—probably her mother—had thoughtfully left behind on the table. “Besides, nothing happens until the music begins.”
As if I’d summoned it, the sweet bells careened into our ears.
Kain said, “Now it’s happening. See you, Sis.” He peered out of the tent, then motioned at me. “Let’s go, cousins are already walking.”
Grabbing Francesca in a hug, I laughed. “You’re going to make your husband very happy.”
Squeezing me, she sniffled. “Damn straight.”
“Don’t cry!” I cautioned. “Your makeup!”
Dabbing her eyes, she shooed me. “Go, go! Get out there. See you soon.”
I balanced on my painful heels and followed Kain. The sun blinded me for a moment when we stepped into the open. I lifted my hand to shield myself; in that instant, he linked his fingers with mine.
Such a simple touch shouldn’t have electrified me. It defied all logic, but logic doesn’t care a whit about emotions. It’s just lust, I promised myself.
Fuck, let it just be that.
Together we walked, and true to his word, Kain kept me from tumbling the several times my ankles wobbled. The number of people sitting in foldout chairs was amazing. Was this all family, or friends, or what?
The more I gleaned about the Badds, the more curious I became.
When we reached the end of the aisle, we were supposed to part ways. Kain wasn’t much for tradition, I guess, because he held my hand and followed me to stand on the left of the altar.
Every set of eyes fixed on us. Sweat pooled along my collarbone. “What are you doing?” I hissed at him under my breath.
He didn’t answer, he just let his fingers drag from my palm to my hip. He went further, outlining the shape of my ass . . . the edge of my thigh. Kain didn’t give a shit who saw him or what he was doing.
This was a man on a mission.
I was his mission.
What happened next . . . well, we’ve caught up to the start. Kain tried to finger fuck me in public, Francesca glowed in the sun, and everything looked awesome and grand, and how could it ever go wrong?
That was when the police showed up.
And then my world was changed forever.
- CHAPTER FIVE -
SAMMY
Whatever the floors in jail cells are made of, they had to be pretty hardy stuff. I’d paced back and forth over the same four-foot stretch for about an hour, and amazingly, the ground didn’t show a sign of it.
I was still wearing the ridiculously floofy and too-tight maid of honor dress, though I’d removed my heels the second I’d been freed of my cuffs. Hugging myself, I marched back and forth behind the bars, my teeth chattering. It was cold, but in spite of everything . . . I did have one thing going for me.
I was pissed as fuck.
Fury is good for keeping you warm.
I’d never been arrested in my life. Initially, I’d been terrified for myself—for everyone. The mayhem had been deafening, making me sure that it had to end in violence somehow. When I’d been set on the grass away from the still-gathered-but-dispersing wedding attendees, I’d gotten to finally look around.
Black cars and more obvious police wagons hovered on the fringe of the estate. I could see them around the edges of the house and rosebushes. Slowly a parade of cuffed people began marching up toward the vehicles.
Francesca in her wedding dress . . . lord, that cut hard. But she wasn’t crying; her makeup was clean and crisp. When I followed her glare, how she kept wrenching around to glare at one of the others behind her, I began to get a bad feeling.
“Daddy!” she screamed, shaking her wrists and yanking at the officer who was struggling to hold her back. “What the hell did you do this time?!”
“Francesca!” Mama Badd snapped, dragging the officer on her forward from the pack. “Keep your mouth shut! Mister Finch will straighten this all out.”
“This is supposed to be my wedding day!”
“Francesca, shut it!”
“Up,” someone said, ripping me onto my feet.
Stumbling, I eyeballed the cop and said, “Please, this is wrong! I didn’t do anything, why am I being arrested?”
Mama Badd looked my way as she passed. “You, too,” she growled. “You keep your mouth shut. Don’t say anything to the cops.”
“Anything about what?” I shouted.
That was the last I saw of the Badds before the police cars carted them off.
Dropping my forehead on the cool bars, I took a moment to consider all the mistakes I’d made in my life. What had led me to this, of all things? Jeez, I’d never been more embarrassed in my whole life than this morning.
Even waking up, remembering that I’d hooked up with Kain when I’d explicitly instructed myself not to, hadn’t been as bad as this.
Keys jingled, and I glanced up anxiously at the sight of another nameless police officer. “Come on,” he said, wriggling the cell door open. “They’re ready for you.”
“Who’s ready for me? What does that even mean?” I didn’t like how my voice broke; I was just too exhausted to hold it together. “Why am I being held here at all?”
The cop was older than me, and I guess he’d seen all sorts of people pleading in the cell I was standing in, because not a flicker of sympathy lightened his gaze. “Are you coming out of there or not?”
Scooping up my high heels, I walked past him with the last of the quiet dignity I could muster.
He led me down the hall, past other cells where people either curled up in drunken sleep or watched me with curious eyes. While I wondered what they had done, it was obvious they were thinking the same about me.
Except I hadn’t done anything! I had no clue why the wedding had been raided, or why I’d been swept up in the mess and carted off to the police station. All I knew was that I was tired, hu
ngry, and beyond frustrated with the world.
This is all a mistake, I told myself, forcing my heart to calm. Once I talk to someone in charge, they’ll release me. They had to. Didn’t they?
Mom.
The thought of her sitting alone in her apartment filled my guts with razors. She wasn’t going to know what had happened to me, why I hadn’t come by yet to help her with her meals or to keep her company. If anything happened to her because I wasn’t there . . . I’d never forgive myself.
And I’d never forgive the Badds.
“Here we are,” the cop said, pausing beside an unremarkable white door. Through the tiny window in it, I saw there was a new man waiting at a table inside. His head came up, like he’d sensed us before the officer even opened the door. “Detective Stapler will take it from here.”
“Stapler?” I blurted before I could stop myself. “And who are you, Officer Paper Clip?”
Officer Paper Clip stared at me flatly. “Have fun.”
I regretted my idiotic question; I blamed it entirely on my unstable mood. Turning, I watched as the detective at the table rose with a friendly smile. “Miss Sage, please, have a seat.”
Glancing around the blank room, I moved to the metal folding chair and settled on it across from him. “Detective Stapler, right? Listen, I don’t know why I’m here, but it’s all a mistake.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” he said, nodding seriously. “We’ll get it straightened out right away.”
I sank into my seat, breathing out. “Thank you. I need to get out of here fast; my mother, she’s not well, and she’s probably wondering where I am.”
“Your sick mother, is it?” he mused.
My nodding head stopped mid-motion. “I know that sounds like a cheap excuse, but I’m serious.”
“I’m serious, too, Miss Sage.” He slid his hands apart, and I finally noticed the pale folder he’d been resting his arms on. I didn’t know what was in it, but my nerves started to spark. “This situation is no joke.”
“What situation?”
Stapler had fine lines over his bushy brows. Those lines crunched together, growing deeper as he spoke. “Tell me what you know about the Badds.”
“Almost nothing. I only met them yesterday.”
His chuckle scraped through my ears like old pottery over glass shards. “Funny, how could the maid of honor of their youngest daughter know almost nothing about her family?”
Pushing a hand against my forehead, I laughed weakly. “I get it. No, see, you’re confused.”
“I’m confused? Enlighten me.”
“Francesca was just a client. I made her wedding dress. Yeah, I also ended up as her maid of honor . . .” Plucking at my orange frills, I smiled at him as hard as I could, hoping he’d give in and smile back. No such luck. The tension remained. “It just kind of happened.”
“You’re telling me you became the maid of honor for a woman you only met yesterday?”
“It’s a funny story. You’ll laugh, I swear.” My chuckle came out as stiff as cardboard. “Her best friend sent some rude photos to her fiancé the night before the wedding. She was in a pickle, I stepped up. How could I not?”
Opening the folder with a flourish, Stapler slid a photo my way. Then another and another. Lifting them, I stared at the vibrant images of me waiting at the end of the aisle. There was even one of me from behind, and you could clearly see Kain’s hand on my ass cheek.
I was going to kill Kain. Seriously kill him. Tear-his-balls-off-and-dance-on-top-of-them kill him. Flushing, I pushed the photos back across the table. “I just admitted that I was her maid of honor, there’s no need to show me these.”
“There’s a story in those pictures, Miss Sage.” His grin cocked sideways, a fat finger jabbing at the photo of Kain and me. “You’re acting pretty familiar with someone you don’t know so well. Or is this just how you are with strangers?”
“Fuck you,” I snapped. Swearing at a detective wasn’t my proudest moment, but being accused of being some kind of whore wasn’t winning him any points. “You’ve got everything all mixed up, and I still have no idea what you’re trying to prove.”
Stapler watched me closely. “You’re really telling me your only connection to these people was a wedding.”
“That’s all. Can I go?”
With careful pacing, he pushed two new pieces of paper at me. They were photocopies of checks; the payments from Kain for the dress and from his mother for the help with the party. “My math isn’t great,” he said slowly. “But this looks to be about thirty grand right here. Tell me, who gets paid thirty grand to make a wedding dress?”
Licking my lower lip, I met his serious eyes. They were kind of pretty for such a weathered man. “Is it a crime to get paid to help people out? Is that what I’m being charged with?”
“You aren’t charged with anything. Yet.” He shrugged. “Help me out. This looks suspicious to me. Here you are, walking closely with the children of Maverick Badd on the day of his daughter’s wedding. And then, after we raid their estate to find the illegal weapons they’re holding, you walk in here with thirty grand in your pockets from the family itself.”
“I didn’t walk in, you guys dragged me in, and—wait.” I stiffened. “Hold on. You’re saying you raided their estate because they were hiding weapons?” Reality tap-danced across my guts.
Stapler said, “The Badds have always been lawbreakers. Blackmail, greasing the palms of dirty politicians to keep things the way they like in this city. You name it, and they’re involved. I’ve even got a few homicides I suspect they’re responsible for.”
Homicides. The wobbling, too-tangible memory of Kain’s naked flesh crept through my memory. How his torso had rolled like the waves in a dark storm. How he’d been so perfect . . . except for that single, puckered scar on his stomach.
Weapons. Bullets. The leap was easy to make. How dangerous was a man like Kain? I’d been worried that he’d be wild, maybe kind of crazy—and definitely too alpha for me.
Being a murderer had never crossed my mind.
“Holy hell,” I whispered. “You think I had something to do with all of that?”
Stapler—honestly, who had a name like that?—reclined in his seat. The photocopied checks sat between us like nuclear weapons. “You’re carrying funds from an illicit source, paid by a family known for bribery and selling black-market goods. How else do I look at it?”
Lifting my hands, I flailed them side to side. “Slow down. I had no clue about any of this.” Is he serious? Are the Badds that kind of family? “Francesca walked into my store the other day. I’ve only been back in the state for a few months, I’d never met her or her brother before.” Chasing my thoughts in a circle, I wondered how to prove I was innocent.
Wait. Narrowing my eyes on the detective, I hesitated. Maybe I don’t have to.
Tilting his head, he smiled curiously. “What are you thinking, Miss Sage?”
“I’m thinking . . . that you already said I’m not under arrest. You don’t actually have anything to charge me with, do you?”
He went so very still. “Not yet.”
Breathing faster, I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. “Then I guess I’ll be going.”
“Miss Sage?” he asked. Peering at him, I grabbed the doorknob. “I’ll say this once. I’m not the bad guy here.”
Sucking in my lower lip, I weighed my words. “You might be right about them. I don’t have a clue if anything you’ve said is a lie. It could easily be all true. But between the both of you?” I opened the door. “You’re the only one who’s tried to frighten me. Good guys don’t do that.”
He said nothing as I made my exit.
It would have been much more dramatic if I wasn’t carrying a glittery pair of stripper heels.
- CHAPTER SIX -
KAIN
My shoe kept tapping on the busted tile floor. Every few minutes the cop behind the front desk would glare at me with distaste. When he did, I made sure to
smile and wink. Every time the same smile, the same cocky wink.
I hated cops. Had since I was a kid. Plus, it was easy to dislike the guys who’d dragged me in here and left me in a cell for two hours. To be fair, it wasn’t very long—but our family lawyer was usually much faster.
It probably didn’t help that he represented both sides of my family, and in the span of one morning, needed to assist all of us.
Simon Finch was one of those men who just appeared out of thin air, often with his hair wobbling in the breeze like he’d sprinted straight from wherever he’d been waiting. He’d pointed out how the arrest had been made without cause, that they had no proof to keep anyone here, and then he’d e-mailed my father his invoice and traipsed away to help other would-be convicts out of prison.
I admired him. It’s not that I thought I deserved to be in jail, but Finch definitely got me out fast enough each time that if I was doing something wrong, I could go right back to it before the cops could even get another warrant.
After things were straightened out, my brother Hawthorne had brought me my motorcycle and a change of clothes. It had felt good to get out of the suit, even if I knew I looked amazing in it.
Recrossing my legs, I leaned forward, trying to peek around the corner. Sammy was back there; I didn’t need to see her to know. Fuck, in a way, I even felt it. That made no damn sense, but the tugging in my stomach acted like there was a bit of bait hooked inside of me, and Sammy had the fishing pole.
I didn’t need to be here. I definitely didn’t need to try and explain things to her nonexistent lawyer about how to help get her out of trouble—I still couldn’t believe she didn’t have one. Who didn’t? Either way, once I was confident that they had no plans to actually arrest her, I’d parked my ass to wait.
I just . . . felt sort of responsible for Sammy getting caught up in the raid. But I’d warned her from the start; she didn’t know who I was, who my family was. If she had, she wouldn’t have gotten so involved with my sister.
And then we wouldn’t have kissed.
