A Match Made in Heaven?
Page 27
“You couldn’t take the money and run.” Amelia sized him up and down, her words more a statement than a query.
Willie scowled. “Scott got it all on video, in case one of us double-crossed him.”
“Copy that, Willie boy.” Amelia glanced up at the surveillance camera in the corner of the ceiling.
“Scapegoat.” He pointed to Johnny. “Wanted to pin the job on—”
“Burlap sacks make good evidence,” Johnny muttered.
“You knew the layout of the bank.” Willie’s Adam’s apple bopped, his lip twitched. “This stick-up and the dough stashed at the kennels would lay it on you, thicker than Aunt Jemima’s pancake syrup.” He chortled, and his belly jiggled. “A disgruntled ex-employee … revenge … you’d be in the slammer for several years.”
“Leaving the way clear for him to infiltrate—that toad’s gonna be toast,” Amelia murmured. “How dare he try to implicate my son-in-law in a burglary, and in his daddy’s bank.” She slapped Johnny on the shoulder, and he staggered back a step, a twitch of amusement on his mouth. “And plot to seduce my little girl and oust me from my casino.”
Mamma drew oxygen into her lungs, and her bosom lifted.
Willie gawked.
She glared back, air whooshing from her mouth.
Willie shuffled his rear back against the wall, his fingertips brushing across the Book on the floor.
Ignoring Willie, mamma noticed the teller stepping timidly from the vault, and beckoned with the firearm. “Come ’ere.” When the girl tiptoed closer, she smacked the handgun in her palm. “Think you could hold onto that while I attend to my daughter?”
The girl nodded and turned the weapon on Willie. “D-don’t move.”
“Point it down, little lady, not at me.” He curled his fingers around the Book without realizing it.
Like an avenging tigress, Mrs. Carroll stomped through the bank in her dirt-streaked designer clothes, torn stockings and grimy feet. “John boy, my jangles.”
Puzzled, Johnny shook his head.
She held up her wrist. “A little socialite armor wouldn’t hurt … bolster my shield.”
A hint of a grin, and he pulled the gold bracelets from his pocket and placed them in her palm. Without missing a step, she slipped them on her wrist and flashed her charismatic smile. “Someone call the police, we got the bad guys.”
Applauding, the captives stepped back and revealed Samantha lying on the floor.
Johnny and mamma jostled each other in their rush to get to her, barely noticing the police storming the front door.
“Anybody hurt?” The officer’s voice boomed, triggering a pandemonium eruption.
The hostages shook their heads. “Just scared.” Someone in the back started to cry. “Mighty scared,” another added. “Terrified.”
Nodding, the grim-faced policeman focused on a tall, fair-haired man peeking from behind two fat ladies. “You have something to add?”
“N-no.” Michael shook his shoulders and stepped forward. “If I can be of assistance—”
“Is there a doctor in the house … er … bank?” Mrs. Carroll called, her voice rising an octave. “Michael, make yourself useful and see what’s keeping him.”
He nodded but didn’t move, his mouth hanging open.
“My grandbaby is on its way.”
The officer spoke into a transmitter. “We need a doctor, pronto.”
Johnny fell to his knees beside Samantha and shrugged off his jacket. Quickly folding it, he placed it beneath her head, his thumb brushing her cheek.
“Johnny, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart.” Johnny closed his hand over hers and gulped down emotion threatening to choke him. A second later, she tensed and gripped his arm as a contraction racked her body.
A cry burst from her lungs.
“Breathe, Sammy, breathe,” mamma said, gasping for air.
Samantha panted, digging her fingers into Johnny’s forearm.
“Oh my gosh.” Mamma paced back and forth. “She’s coming. Baby’s coming.” Frantic, she turned every which way, and then whacked Michael on the head. “Heat some water, get towels, scissors …” She panted herself. “And take that pretty girl” – she gestured to the dark haired girl rushing through the door, her coat flapping, and searching for someone – “with you.”
The girl turned to the woman next to her. “Go on, Janey. He needs you.”
After Janey followed Michael into the kitchenette, Mirabella floated to a stop beside Johnny. She touched his shoulder, and he glanced up.
“Mirabella, what are you doing … how’d you know—”
Mirabella smiled that eternal smile.
Bewildered, he shook his head and turned back to Sam as another contraction convulsed her body.
“The heart knows,” Mirabella whispered, but he didn’t hear, too wrapped up in comforting his wife. “How far apart?”
He examined his wristwatch, perspiration glazing his forehead and dribbling down his temples. “Three minutes.”
“Let me.” Mirabella knelt down beside him, pulled Samantha’s coat aside and lifted her dress above her knees. “Johnny, get me some towels.” She inclined her head toward Michael and Janey returning from the staff lounge with the supplies. “Spread them under Samantha.” Gently, she smoothed the damp hair off her brow. “Samantha, honey, I want you to help me.”
Samantha opened her glazed eyes.
“I have to see how much you’ve dilated.”
Samantha raised her legs a little higher and allowed Mirabella access. “Oh, my,” she said with joy. “I see the head. Push Samantha, push.”
A raw groan ripped from her, and she pushed the baby further down the birth canal.
“It’s almost here.” Mirabella cheered her on.
“Where’s that doctor?” The police officer shoved his cap off his head and mopped his moist forehead with the cuff of his sleeve.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Amelia Carroll huffed, leaning over Mirabella’s shoulder.
Johnny held Samantha’s hand and cooed words of comfort, sweat soaking his shirt.
“Push again, love,” Mirabella encouraged. “Once more. Twice. A little harder. That’s it. She’s almost here … I have her head … push one more time, real hard.”
Samantha did.
The baby slid out into Mirabella’s waiting hands. “I’ve got her.”
“M-Michael, scissors.” Mrs. Carroll stretched out her hand, without taking her eyes off the baby.
He stumbled closer with Janey glued to his side and handed mamma the cutting shears from the First Aid Kit.
Mamma passed the scissors to Johnny. At Mirabella’s nod, he cut the umbilical cord. Emotion pummeled his insides and expanded his chest with unspeakable joy. His eyes stung.
The baby belted out a cry, and everyone laughed in relief. Even the two handcuffed robbers trudging by glanced over, and Willie raised the Book in his hand in a victory signal. For a split second, his eyes connected with Johnny’s, then he shifted and slammed into Mirabella.
Mirabella pierced him with her laser sharp gaze as if she could see deep into his soul.
“Let’s get outta here,” he mumbled, tripping over his feet in his hurry.
“Never seen two perps so eager to get into police custody.” The officer chuckled, pacing their exit and that of his two men flanking them.
“Doctor’s here,” one called over his shoulder, catching sight of the M.D. leaping from the ambulance.
“Don’t need him, now,” Mrs. Carroll announced smugly and transfixed on her granddaughter, her eyes glazed with tears. “Are they all that small?”
Mirabella placed the infant on Samantha’s breast and wrapped the flaps of her coat around the babe. “Some tea might be nice, don’t you think?” she whispered to Mrs. Carroll.
Reluctantly, mamma followed Mirabella to the staff kitchen, but kept glancing over her shoulder at the baby. Nearly bumping into Michael standing like a statu
e not two feet away, she narrowed her eyes and gave him the once over. “I’d like to know how you’ll get yourself out of this one, Michael Scott.”
“I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he didn’t move; shock had him shackled to the spot.
She shook her head. “And to think I wanted him in the family.”
Mirabella chuckled and inclined her head toward Johnny holding Samantha and their baby in his arms. “Never hurts to have a rich relative in the family.”
Mrs. Carroll gazed at her granddaughter and dabbed her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve, her bracelets jangling. “She’s the treasure.”
“First and foremost.” Mirabella looked deep into her eyes, and her radiant smile touched mamma’s heart. A wink, and she rubbed her thumb and index finger together.
Mrs. Carroll’s mouth fell open, her eyes big as saucers. “No!”
Mirabella nodded. “At the Lou.”
A shriek of laughter. “I didn’t lose it. The dough’s in the family.”
“It certainly is.”
“Why that ne’er-do-well has the luck o’ the Irish with him, after all.”
A cherubic grin curved Mirabella’s mouth. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”
But Mrs. Carroll didn’t hear, already calculating net profits. “I always knew my Sam would land on her feet. She’s a girl after mamma’s smarts.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll have to phone Harold. He’s never going to believe all this,” she rattled on with nervous energy. “Always saying I have a wild imagination. He’ll be thrilled with his granddaughter.”
“Yes, he will,” Mirabella murmured, but Mrs. Carroll had already pulled her cell phone from her purse, punching in the number.
While the phone rang, Amelia glanced around for Mirabella, then shrugged, thinking she must’ve gone back to join the crowd. By the third ring, reality hit, and she paled; then her lips broadened to a smile, albeit with reservation.
She was a grandma.
Joy tickled her heart, and then she gripped the mobile tight. She’d have to mend her ways … do something with the family business … er … give a percentage of proceeds to charity … help the homeless … Her gossipy socialite friends would think she’d lost her mind. She muffled a giggle. They’d also be green with envy. She waggled her shoulders. Atone for past sins … set an example for her granddaughter … go to church … she gulped … eventually she’d get there … of course, she had to go for the Christening— “Granddaddy, congrats to you … er … us, Harold …”
Mirabella lounged atop the defunct ceiling fan, amused at the dealings of the human heart trying to make sense of life. Swatting a tinsel streamer dangling in her face, she winked at heaven, delighted at the outcome.
Johnny and Samantha determined to build a marriage on divine decree: ‘What therefore God hath joined together, let no man … er … meddling mamma put asunder.’
He chuckled.
A grin glowed on Mirabella’s lips. “Mission accomplished.”
Affirmative, Mirabella.
She chomped on a gumdrop, blinking her moist lashes. “I’ll miss this one.”
You won’t have time.
Alert, Mirabella did a good work on the gumdrop between her teeth.
What with the Christmas Holidays, things have become hectic on the Earth realm.
“Uh, uh.” She swallowed and popped another gummy in her mouth.
“Not before I get my vacation time.”
A telling pause.
“We had a deal.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder and flew about. “I’m so looking forward to sun bathing and …”
A rush of air ruffled Johnny’s hair, and goosebumps chilled his body. He turned around and saw Mrs. Carroll and Janey passing out hot tea in paper cups. He rolled his stiff shoulders. The prickles on his skin relaxed, and a peace, so profound he couldn’t explain it, settled around his heart. “Thank you, Lord. All’s well.”
“With Him it always is.”
Johnny twisted behind him, but no one was within speaking range. A sudden breeze, light as an angel’s wing, brushed him again. And he knew. “Thanks, Mirabella,” he whispered, smiling.
Samantha hugged their daughter close to her heart and took his hand, placing it protectively over their baby. Then she covered his hand with hers, and her tired eyes glittered with happiness. “I do, Mr. Belen.”
Emotion filled his heart to explosive levels, and he blinked the sting from his eyes. Johnny dipped his head, placed a kiss on their child’s head, then on Sammy’s lips. “I banked on it, Mrs. Belen.”
Epilogue
Mirabella, decked in beach gear from across the ages, sat cross-legged on the judge’s desk and sipped a bottle of sparkling Water Lite. Tilting the sun hat off her brow, she peered over her Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. “You interrupted my vacation for this?”
Figured you didn’t want to miss it.
“Hear ye, hear ye, all rise …” the bailiff droned on. The judge in his black robes walked into the courtroom and sat down. “All sit.”
“Kinda cute, don’t you think?” Mirabella murmured. “Draped in all that flowing fabric.”
Behave.
“Defendants, please rise.”
A somber looking Michael, Willie and his sidekick stood facing the judge.
“Mr. Herbert Scott,” the judge announced, glancing at him parked on the front bench, “has filed no charges against his son Michael Jay Scott and his two accomplices.”
Dressed in an expensive three-piece pinstriped suit and a gold watch chain looped across his breast pocket, daddy Scott turned to his wife propped beside him, sniffing and dabbing her eyes. “Gertrude, shut up.”
“However, even with blank bullets, such juvenile antics could result in tragedy.” The judge glared at the three culprits from beneath his bushy brows. “Therefore, I sentence you to six months … uh … hard labor at the Canine Resort Kennels in Goodsprings, Nevada.” The judge blinked, dumbfounded at what he said.
Mirabella grinned. “That was your doing.”
Mmm.
Beaming, mamma sat wedged between Johnny and Samantha, cooing to her granddaughter nestled in her arms. “That translates to shoveling dog poop for the next six months.”
They burst out laughing.
Mirabella giggled, then swallowed the tinkle of sound.
A message flashed through.
“Uh, uh. No. Oh no.” She shook her head vehemently. “I’ve got three days left at this oh, soooo cool, trendy spot and I intend to enjoy every minu—”
That young couple will need you.
Mirabella glanced at Johnny and Samantha. “They look happy to me.”
He chuckled. Not them.
Mirabella fluttered her lashes, her eyes open wide as understanding dawned in her spirit. “You don’t mean—” she took a swig of her drink and gulped— “Michael and that cute lil’ waitress? Oh, puh-lease!”
I do.
Mirabella waved the bottle in her hand as if the assignment was a piece of cake. “Any agent can handle those two.”
Uh, uh.
“Why not?” She flicked a frizzy curl off her shoulder and adjusted the sunglasses on her nose.
You have inside info.
“I’ll share—”
Mirabella.
“Okay.” She sighed, and then brightened. “I’ll go after six months.”
Can’t wait.
“Why not?”
You know how impatient humans are.
“Aww, have a heart.”
I do.
And, of course, He did.
About the Author
Sun Chara, a multi-published, JABBIC winner for Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella, writes sexy, hip ‘n fun contemporary romance, high adventure historical romance, and any genre that knocks at her imagination. Globetrotting for lore while keeping tabs on Hollywood leads, she loves the challenge of creating stories for book and screen. Designer frappuccinos with whipping c
ream and sprinkles on top make everyday a celebration!
https://facebook.com/suncharaauthorpage
@sunchara3
Also by Sun Chara
Recluse Millionaire, Reluctant Bride
Italian Millionaire’s Runaway Principessa
Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife
Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella
All Wrapped Up in You
About HarperImpulse
HarperImpulse is an innovative, award-winning digital imprint. In the four years since launch, we have continually hit digital bestseller lists, hosted the UK’s first online romance festival, published into over ten countries and grown an exciting stable of commercial women’s fiction authors.
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