by Kara Lennox
Heath donned a baseball cap, a pair of black-framed glasses, a stick-on mustache and a set of fake front teeth, one of them gold.
Brenna buried her face in her hands. “Oh, my gosh, this is so embarrassing. He’s taking this private investigator thing too seriously.”
But the disguise was effective.
Heath and Luke took off, leaving the women alone.
“All right, what gives?” Brenna asked. “Every time John-Michael McPhee’s name is mentioned, you get this pained look on your face like someone just stabbed you in the heart.”
“Yeah, you’re holding out on us,” Cindy added. “We’ve told you every gory detail of our love lives.”
This was the first time Sonya had been alone with her two girlfriends since they’d arrived yesterday. She’d actually been dying to unload on them. “John-Michael McPhee is a complete jerk, unworthy of my angst. He slept with me and immediately dumped me. I mean, okay, I’m the one who seduced him, sort of, but he could have refused, knowing I was making an utter fool of myself.”
“He dumped you?” Cindy said, outraged. “Right after sex?”
“We were still in bed,” Sonya confirmed.
Brenna made a fist. “Never mind Marvin. Just let John-Michael McPhee show his face around here. I’ll slap him up the side of the head.”
“Hold on,” Cindy said. “Sonya, did he say, ‘I don’t want to be with you’? In so many words?”
Sonya nodded. “He made it sound like he’s doing me a favor by removing himself from my life, like I’m too good for him or he’s too bad for me or—” She stopped, took a few gulps of orange juice before she started crying again. She set the glass down with a clunk and looked at her watch. “I don’t need to be thinking about this now. I have to get dressed for my stupid hair appointment, so I can show up for a stupid wedding and make an idiot of myself very publicly.”
“Making a fool of yourself has an upside,” Brenna said. “My jewelry orders tripled after the Morning News ran that story about me diving into a mountain of shrimp and breaking off the ice-Diana’s arm. Couldn’t get much more foolish than that.”
“Everybody in my hometown knew what a fool I was,” Cindy chimed in. “But they all rallied around me when I needed them. The true friends will understand. And the others—who cares about them?”
Sonya got up, walked around the table and hugged each of her friends in turn. “I am so glad you two are here. I wouldn’t be able to survive this without you to put things in perspective. I just never imagined we would have to take it this far.”
“You’re really brave,” Cindy said. “And your mom is great, paying for a phony wedding just so we can have our vengeance.”
“The reception will be a big victory party if our plan works.”
“And a big pity party if it doesn’t,” said Brenna. “But I’m with you all the way.”
Chapter Thirteen
John-Michael walked up to the glossy marble check-in desk at the Blue Heron Hotel, the sixth he’d approached in the past two hours. He introduced himself, showed the clerk his shiny new Harris County Sheriff’s Department badge, and made his requests. Though he wore no uniform and this was not an official investigation and he had no warrant, the various clerks had been incredibly cooperative.
This one was no exception. She checked her computer. “No, I’m sorry, there’s no one by the name of Marvin Carter registered,” the young woman said.
John-Michael then showed her the pictures he’d managed to accumulate of Marvin in various guises—dark hair, blond, mustache, clean-shaven, glasses, no glasses.
“Wait, that guy does look familiar,” she said thoughtfully. “I didn’t check him in, but maybe someone else remembers something.” She consulted with the other clerks on duty, then the assistant manager. Finally one cocky young man came forward. “I checked that guy in a couple of days ago. Swenson was the last name. Is he a dangerous fugitive or something?”
“I’d just like to speak to him, if I could.”
The manager stepped forward. “We can’t give you his room number for privacy reasons,” she said sternly. “But we can connect you via the house phone.”
No, that wouldn’t do. Any warning at all, and Marvin would be scurrying down some fire escape or service elevator, and they would have lost yet another chance to catch him. “Thanks, but no.” He stepped away from the desk and into the luxurious lobby, where he called the other members of his arrest party, who were canvassing other hotels, restaurants and office buildings in the area.
“We’ll have to get a warrant,” Heath said. “McPhee, you’re the only one with jurisdiction here. You know any friendly judges?”
“Hell, no! I just started this job two weeks ago.”
“Then we’ll have to do this the hard way.”
As the plan unfolded, Luke Rheems waited in the hotel lobby and watched in case Marvin happened to walk through. John-Michael made a few phone calls, then went with Heath to the county courthouse to cajole a judge into issuing a court order, instructing the hotel to cough up “Mr. Swenson’s” room number. It took some convincing, too, and a half-dozen phone calls before the judge was convinced of exactly how urgent the need was to apprehend Carter.
By the time they returned to the Blue Heron, it was two o’clock—an hour before the wedding was scheduled to begin. They presented the court order, got Marvin’s room number. The head of security accompanied them up to the eighth floor.
They made a hasty plan, drew their weapons, stuck the pass key in the door and pushed it open.
“Police!” the three of them shouted at the same time as they burst into the room. The empty room.
The disappointment hit John-Michael like a sucker-punch to the jaw, but he tried not to let it show. He and the others gave the room a hasty search and found receipts for a tuxedo rental and a carnation boutonnière.
“We’ll catch up with him at the church,” Heath said as they brushed past the bewildered manager standing in the hall.
John-Michael moved at a dead run for his car, parked on the next block. Sure, the church was only thirty minutes away—if the traffic cooperated. But if they ran into one of Houston’s ubiquitous traffic jams, all bets were off.
The thought of that monster within a hundred feet of Sonya made him sick to his stomach. During a brief phone conversation with Muffy earlier this morning, he’d assured her they would do everything they could to arrest Marvin before the wedding started.
It was as he feared—Interstate 110 was blocked solid due to an accident, according to his police scanner. He took the surface streets. He could still get there in time. Unfortunately, a glance in his rearview mirror told him Heath and Luke weren’t behind him. Unfamiliar with Houston’s traffic as they were, they wouldn’t know the best route. But he couldn’t wait for them.
He had to get to Sonya.
IN THE BRIDE’S ROOM at St. Eustace Episcopal Church, Sonya paced and chewed on one of her acrylic nails until all the polish was off. Cindy and Brenna, dressed in the lush green velvet dresses, tried to calm her down, while Cissy Trask-Burnside, her matron of honor, sat in a corner in complete shock. They’d finally had to tell her what was going on, and ever since, she’d looked as if she wanted to escape this sordid little party and hop the first plane for the Bahamas.
“They’ll catch him this time,” Cindy said. “Last time Heath called, he said they had Marvin cornered in a hotel room.”
“He could still escape,” Sonya said. “I could see him going out a window and jumping into an awning, or getting smuggled out on a housekeeping cart by some maid he seduced.”
Brenna’s phone rang. Heath had been keeping her updated all day. She grabbed it. “Heath? Do you have him?”
Sonya watched Brenna’s face as she listened. Brenna frowned. “Oh, no. Oh, no!”
“What?” Sonya and Cindy said together.
“When they went to his room, he was gone,” Brenna said. “They’re absolutely positive he’s headed here, plan
ning to get married.”
“That means we can still catch him,” Sonya said hopefully.
“But here’s the worst part. Heath and Luke are stuck in traffic. A complete log jam on the freeway.”
“Where’s John-Michael?” Sonya asked.
“They don’t know. They lost sight of him.”
“He should be here soon—he avoided the worst of the traffic. But if he doesn’t make it in time, Heath said we should continue with the wedding.” Brenna looked uncomfortable as she added, “You can always have the marriage annulled.”
Sonya felt panicky at the thought. “All right, girls, it’s up to us,” she said resolutely. “We can’t count on any of the guys to get here in time. So here’s what we’ll do. We’ll wait as long as can—right up to before Father Jewell declares us husband and wife. And if the real lawmen haven’t arrived by then, we jump Marvin, tackle him to the ground, and sit on him until help arrives.”
“You’re insane, all of you,” said Cissy, who had never really grasped the true situation. “I want no part in this.”
“Then stay out of the way,” Sonya said, wondering why she’d never noticed before how dense Cissy was.
Just then, the bride’s room door flew open and in strolled Marvin Carter, looking slicker than Brylcreem in a tuxedo. He had shadows under his eyes Sonya didn’t remember from before, and he appeared as if he might have lost a bit of weight. But otherwise he was perfectly groomed, devastatingly handsome—even with brown hair and a goatee.
Cindy and Brenna turned quickly and pulled the heavy veils from their headpieces over their faces. Mrs. Kim had been persuaded to add the veils at the last minute.
“Darling!” Marvin said breathlessly as he swept Sonya into his arms. “At last, at last, I’m here. It’s been a nightmare.”
Oh, I’ll just bet. “Marvin, sweetheart,” Sonya said, hoping he wouldn’t detect the revulsion in her voice. How in the world had she ever fancied she was in love with this horrible man? She hugged him, avoiding the kiss he attempted to give her. “My lipstick.”
Muffy appeared at the doorway, visibly vibrating with tension. “Sonya? Darling? It’s three o’clock. Time to get started.” Her voice was tight with strain.
The last thing Sonya wanted to do was stress out her mother. “Mother, it’s all fine,” she said. “The plans are in place, everything’s perfect. Now all we have to do is let the wedding unfold.”
Muffy looked doubtful, but she laid a hand on Marvin’s forearm. “It’s so wonderful to see you, Marvin. We were so worried. Go to the front of the church, now, and wait for your bride.”
“My pleasure,” he said with an oily smile to all of them.
As soon as he departed, Muffy demanded, “Where’s John-Michael? And the other fellows?”
“On their way,” Sonya said. “We have to just carry on like normal until they arrive. I don’t think Marvin suspects a thing.”
From the church vestibule, Sonya watched as an usher showed her mother to her seat at the front of the church. Then her two bridesmaids walked as slowly as they dared down the aisle and took up their places near the front, where Father Jewell, the ancient priest, stood in his fancy vestments awaiting to officiate the marriage ceremony.
There were no groomsmen. Marvin hadn’t asked anyone to stand up for him. If the wedding party appeared a bit lopsided, everyone pretended they didn’t notice. Cissy walked down the aisle, glorying in the attention, poor clueless thing.
The church was beautiful. The flowers were perfect. Muffy had done an outstanding job.
Sonya clutched the breathtaking bouquet Jock had made for her. He had such a talent. Then the music she’d chosen for her march down the aisle began. She took Jock’s arm—she’d asked him to give her away, and he’d been honored, even at the last minute. He cut a handsome figure in his sober, dark-gray suit.
“What’s happening?” he whispered.
“We’re waiting for the cavalry to arrive,” Sonya whispered back. She hadn’t expected to feel such high emotion when faced with the culmination of all her and her mother’s carefully laid plans. It was a beautiful wedding—the colors, the candles, the music and her princess-bride dress. She knew she would never achieve such matrimonial perfection again. This was it. This was the only fancy wedding she would ever have.
And John-Michael should have been the groom she was marrying. As infuriating as the man was, as much as he’d hurt her, she still loved him. She would always love him, she supposed. Which meant she was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone. Even if she found another man to make her a decent husband, even a man she was genuinely fond of, she couldn’t expect him to marry her when her heart remained with John-Michael.
Marvin stood at the front of the church, his smile beatific. She was sure everyone there was sighing at his eagerness, thinking how romantic it was that he’d managed to escape from the clutches of repressive government officials in China to make his own wedding in the nick of time.
“Be ready for anything,” she whispered to Jock as she kissed his cheek and he put her hand into Marvin’s.
JOHN-MICHAEL WAS STOPPED by two rent-a-cops just outside the church—security Muffy had hired to keep out reporters and other riff-raff. They checked his name against a list and let him pass. He slipped in through a door at the back of the church. Judging from the hush, the ceremony had already begun, though it was only seven minutes after three.
At least he’d had the presence of mind to put a jacket and tie into his car before his trip downtown, just in case he ran short of time. Tying his tie, he walked up the side aisle to a pew very close to the front of the church. The elderly minister was droning on and on about the sanctity of marriage.
John-Michael looked around, hoping Heath and Luke would appear so he wouldn’t have to do this bust on his own. Thus far in his short law enforcement career, he’d made two arrests. One had been for public intoxication, and one was some poor schmo with a bench warrant for about two dozen parking tickets. Neither had resisted.
Marvin Carter would resist. Knowing how slippery the guy was, John-Michael wasn’t thrilled to do this on his own. But he would—and soon, if the rest of his team didn’t show up.
He tried not to look at Sonya. But he couldn’t help it. God, she was beautiful, her face pale, her golden hair gleaming in its elaborate twists and curls. His heart ached, he wanted to touch her so badly, reassure her that he would come to her rescue.
He focused instead on Marvin, standing tall and proud beside his bride, thinking he had it made. The Patterson fortune, so close, almost in his hands.
The couple said their vows in shaking voices, and still no Heath and Luke. This was it, then. John-Michael stood, walked around the pew to the front, making his way unobtrusively toward the groom.
“If anyone knows why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let him speak now or forever—”
“I object,” John-Michael said.
Marvin tensed and looked as if he could flee any moment.
“I’m in love with the bride,” John-Michael declared passionately.
“Who the hell are you?” Marvin demanded.
“Don’t you remember?” Sonya asked. “You met him many times. He was my bodyguard, John-Michael McPhee.” And she was smiling.
Marvin laughed harshly. “Oh, that’s rich, not to mention pathetic, getting a crush on your boss.”
Sonya gave Marvin a scornful look. “Oh, shut up, you repulsive slime-bucket!” The congregation gasped. She stepped in front of Marvin and took John-Michael’s hand. “John-Michael, do you mean it? Or is this just a stalling tactic?”
John-Michael had intended to object on the basis that the groom was a wanted felon and thus not a fit husband. Instead, his true feelings had poured out of him with no conscious decision on his part—and he hadn’t really been prepared for the consequences.
“Yes, I do mean it,” he said. “I tried to tell myself you’d be better off without me mucking up your high-society li
fe, that you would be happier marrying one of your own class. But then I saw you here, about to marry him—”
“Excuse me,” said the priest. “Is there a problem?”
But Sonya acted as if she couldn’t even hear him. “I would give away everything to charity if I thought it would make a difference. I love you, John-Michael. I’ve loved you since I was a little girl, and you worked so hard to cheer me up after my father died.”
“You’re not going to marry Marvin or anyone else but me.”
“No, I’m not.”
They kissed, a sweet, almost chaste kiss, and everyone in the church applauded.
“Marvin!” someone cried out. “He’s getting away!”
MARVIN SHOULD HAVE KNOWN it was too good to be true. He’d almost had the ring on his finger. A guarantee of a life of luxury and ease had been within his grasp. And then that musclebound Romeo had ruined everything!
Marvin would have punched the guy in the nose—except the bodyguard was bigger and stronger than Marvin, and Marvin probably would not have come out on top in a physical confrontation.
No, the best thing for him to do now was disappear, before his past caught up with him.
He made it to a side exit. He opened the door, smelling freedom. He hadn’t wanted to be married anyway, he told himself. He might have ended up rich, but he’d have been in prison, with Sonya and her mother as the wardens. Better he should return to Europe, lie low for a while longer. He had a lovely Swedish masseuse waiting for him in a hotel room in Paris.
He started to step outside into the bright winter sun when he was met by two large men with grim faces. As recognition dawned, he realized he was in more trouble than he thought. It was that hayseed sheriff from the Podunk town where Cindy lived. And the FBI agent from New York!
They reached out to grab Marvin, but he ducked, turned and ran back into the church, only to run headlong into a sea of angry faces—the bride, for one. Two blond bridesmaids—again, recognition dawned. Cindy and Brenna! He’d been had.
At the front of the pack was the bodyguard with a pair of handcuffs in one hand.