A Fortune's Children's Wedding (4 page)

“The Fortunes were all over TV and in all the papers back then,” agreed Flynt. “They told me how much they hated being trapped in that media circus. Even eight years later they're still appalled by the memory of it.”

“Are they still appalled by Brandon? You see, I also remember some of the more candid pictures and video
clips back then. They were a real study in body language. That family looked anything but thrilled to have Monica Malone's son dumped on them, blood relative or not.”

“You picked that up from a few photos and video footage, did you?” mocked Flynt.

She didn't back down. “I'm right, aren't I? Well, they'll be even less happy to meet me. Not that I blame them, I don't want to meet them, either. We might be related, but we're strangers with nothing at all in common.”

“Brandon's mother, Kate—your grandmother—was happy to have Brandon back,” countered Flynt, “and she is looking forward to meeting and knowing you, too, Angelica. Kate's determined to see you reunited with your father, and she's made it very clear that you are to be a part of the Fortune family.”

“Well, I'm sorry but the feeling isn't mutual.”

“The last thing you need is any more family, huh?” His lips quirked into that wry smile of his.

The one that had an odd effect on her senses. Her cheeks suddenly felt hot. “You make it sound as if—” She broke off, irked.

He was deliberately trying to goad her, but she didn't have to let him. “I have nothing more to say to you, and you can tell Brandon Fortune that there is no sense in dredging up a past that is best forgotten. Now, would you please leave?”

Flynt stayed right where he was. Angelica frowned her displeasure. Well, what had she expected? If he wouldn't go when ordered at gunpoint, he'd hardly respond to a polite request.

“I can understand why you harbor certain—reservations—about having your father in your life. Having met your mother,” Flynt paused, striving for tact. Which meant starting over. “Now that I've met
both
your parents, it's obvious that dealing with the two of them is going to require a deft touch. But I believe you're up to the task, Angelica.”

She was wondering how to reply to that when there was a loud, almost thunderous pounding on the front door.

“Open up!” ordered the voice outside. “Police! And FBI. We have a search warrant!”

“Great, just great.” Angelica groaned. “What else can go wrong today?”

At once Romina, Sarah and Casper all came running. Romina was shouting, Sarah and Casper both appeared anxious.

Angelica's eyes flew to Flynt's face. He looked as if he'd just found himself transported into the Twilight Zone.

“What the hell's going on?” Flynt demanded.

“You have till the count of three to open the door or we'll break it down!” roared the voice from outside. “You know we'll do it, Romina.”

“I know you will!” Romina screamed back.

“Go away!” wailed Sarah. “Leave us alone!” She turned to her mother. “I hate it when they mess up my room, Mama. Last time they broke my softball trophy and threw my collection of stuffed animals on the floor and tramped all over them!”

“I know, honey.” Romina stroked her younger daughter's hair. “They're cruel and unreasonable.”

“And that's why we do what we do, right, Mama,” exclaimed Casper.

Romina glanced at Flynt. “Casper, hush.”

“Okay, Romina, this is it,” shouted the voice. “One…”

“Where's the gun, Angelica?” Casper tugged on Angelica's arm. “Let's fight back this time. Shoot them.”

Flynt stared at the four Carrolls, who seemed prepared to let their door be broken down rather then opening it. “There'll be no shooting,” he said sternly. “And no forced entry, either.”

“Hold on, we're going to open the door,” he called as he strode to it.

The shouted threats and warnings stopped. Flynt felt the pressure of Angelica's gun in the inside pocket of his jacket. If the intruders weren't who they claimed to be, at least he was armed.

He opened the door to two uniformed policemen, one who appeared to be in his late thirties, the other about ten years younger. Flynt immediately picked out which was the FBI agent from the two men not in uniform. Mid-forties, conservative suit and shoes, neat haircut, definitely with the Bureau. The other guy was a run-of-the-mill private investigator, Flynt was certain of it; he recognized the breed.

What, he wondered, did this quartet want with Romina Carroll?

“Who are you?” growled the older police officer whose name tag identified him as Officer S. Webber.

“I guess you could say I'm a friend of the family,” Flynt replied, “or something along that line. And I'd like to see that search warrant, please.”

“Oh, TJ, I'm so glad it's you!” Sarah rushed onto the porch and beamed at the younger policeman. “Would
you
search my room, please? I know you won't throw stuff around and break my things on purpose like
some
people.” She shot the older officer a baleful glance. “That cop, Moffet, who was here last time was awful, Officer Webber. He should be fired.”

“I'm sure Moffet was just doing his job, young lady. And nobody deliberately breaks your things,” growled Webber. “If your mama decided to abide by the law, you wouldn't have to go through this. We don't like it any more than you do. Go on in with her, TJ, you might as well get started,” he instructed the other officer.

“C'mon, TJ,” invited Sarah. “Wait'll you see what I—”

“Just a minute! No one is going inside until I've seen that search warrant,” Flynt commanded.

He sounded convincingly authoritative and legally knowledgeable and was aware that his casual attire could be attributed either to an undercover law enforcement officer or a lawyer.

The four men on the porch stayed where they were.

“Who's he, Romina?” Officer Webber demanded. “Got yourself some legal aid? Or did another agency beat us over here?”

Flynt gave his card to Webber, who passed it around to the other three men. “I'm here on behalf of Angelica's father's family,” he added, not bothering to reveal his exact role.

“And they're really rich and they'll make you sorry you messed with us,” boasted Casper.

“What's this about your father, Angelica?” TJ, the younger officer, looked astonished.

“Seems I have a father.” Angelica rolled her eyes. “I'll tell you more later.”

The FBI agent showed Flynt his credentials, identifying him as Glenn Weatherall from the local FBI field office. “Officers Webber and Gibson are with the Birmingham Police Department.” Weatherall indicated the uniformed officers with a nod toward them. “And this is Ike Searcy, a private investigator.”

Searcy produced his own card as Weatherall handed Flynt the warrant and a few other papers.

“Flynt can kick your butts, 'cause he's not afraid of you. He used to be an FBI agent and he had a license to kill, just like James Bond. But then he decided to quit and get rich.” Casper ran around the porch like a manic puppy, darting among the four men. “And when
we're
rich, we're gonna—”

“Casper, hush!” hissed Romina. “And stay still! Sit down in that chair and don't move!” She pointed to a wicker chair at the far end of the porch.

Casper flopped down on it, heaving a martyred sigh.

Flynt read through the papers he'd been given, then looked at Romina. “This is a valid search-and-seizure warrant, Romina.”

Romina glared at him, then at Webber. “So go on in and tear up my house again. I already put the usual stuff-to-be-seized in a box right by the phone. My address book, phone statements and bills, and bank statements—all together for your convenience. Did I leave anything out?”

“Credit card statements,” barked Searcy.

“We don't use credit cards,” Angelica replied. “Mama believes in paying cash. It keeps you from living beyond your means and getting into debt.”

She was saying all the right words, but her tone was—well, too angelic, mused Flynt. As if she didn't expect to be taken seriously.

“Oh, come on. We all know the
true
reason why you don't use credit,” groused Webber. “Cash eliminates a paper trail.”

“This is such a big waste of time,” Romina huffed impatiently. “You won't find anything here. You never do.”

“You mean
anybody,
” Searcy corrected. “Damn, we're too late again! I know Darlene Carson and her kids were here. You've already helped them move on, Romina,” he added accusingly.

Romina shrugged. “You have a good imagination. Ever think of writing for TV?”

“You may as well get started,” Angelica spoke up. “I was going to go back to my apartment, but I'll stay until they leave, Mama.”

“Thank you, Angel.” Romina gave her a little hug, then turned to the young policeman. “TJ, are you seeing Mara tonight?”

TJ's face reddened and he nodded his head. “Yes, ma'am, I am.”

“Be sure and tell her you helped tear up my house and upset my kids. Remember what Mara says about these raids, Angelica? How all the angry men stomping and yelling reminds her of that bully stepfather of hers, the one she ran away from. Remember, Angel?”

Angelica nodded. “I remember, Mama.”

“You should remember some things too, TJ,” Romina said to the young policeman who didn't meet her steady gaze. “Remember that Mara Quinlan was my foster child from the time she was thirteen. That we were the only ones willing to help her get away from that monster her mother married—the one your department finally got around to putting in jail after he nearly killed a man in a fight. You think about all that while you're ransacking my house.”

“Give TJ a break, Mama.” Angelica heaved a sigh. “He's just doing his job.”

“Yeah, like the Gestapo did theirs.” Romina scowled. “Did Mara ever tell you that she was here baby-sitting during that first raid, TJ? She wouldn't open the door and the cops kicked it in. Poor Mara was scared to death, she was even more upset than Sarah and Casper who were only eleven and nine at the time. You could've knocked me over with a feather when Mara told me she'd started dating a cop. After that raid, she was so hostile toward the police.”

TJ made a strangled sound and followed Sarah into the house.

“Mama, don't try to make trouble for TJ with Mara,” Angelica warned her mother. “He's a nice guy.”

“Don't forget to add, ‘for a cop,'” drawled Flynt, unable to refrain from commenting.

“I've known TJ Gibson for years, long before he became a cop.” Angelica eyed him coolly. “He's a nice guy, period.”

“Angel went to the Junior Prom with TJ. He was crazy about her. Of course, I can't remember when An
gelica hasn't had guys crazy about her.” Romina's smile could have been one of maternal pride—or of malice.

Flynt suspected the latter because she aimed it directly at him. As if he cared who Angelica had gone to the Junior Prom with…as if he cared if there were battalions of men lusting after her!

Of course he didn't care. But he found himself wondering if there was currently a particular man in her life. He hadn't investigated her private life for the Fortunes, other than her marital status and lack of offspring.

“Might as well go inside and have some iced tea.” Romina was suddenly, inexplicably cheerful. “The goon squad won't be in the kitchen long, it's too small for anybody to be hidden in there. Of course, our refrigerator does have a fairly big vegetable drawer. Think you'll find somebody hiding out in it, Webber?”

“You're a zillion laughs, Romina.” Webber pushed past her and marched inside.

“Can I have some iced tea, too, Mama?” Casper had jumped up from the chair and was circling the group.

“You can have a glass of milk,” said Romina. “It's better for you.”

“Can I have some cookies?” the boy asked.

“They're the special orders for campus delivery and—oh, all right, you can have one oatmeal cookie.” Romina entered the house. “But just one.”

“I want two, an oatmeal and a chocolate chip. I'm too skinny, I need to bulk up.” Casper continued to badger his mother as he trailed her inside.

“Okay, okay. You can have two. Now stop nagging!”

Angelica started after them. Flynt caught her arm, pulling her back to him.

“The warrant, the search, the items listed to be seized as evidence—” he took a sharp breath “—this is serious business, Angelica. The affidavit cites possible federal charges against your mother for aiding and abetting a fugitive and for violating custody laws. Conspiracy and obstruction of justice charges are mentioned. And then there are additional state charges filed in New Jersey for interfering with custody arrangements. I don't get it. What on earth is your mother—”

“My mother doesn't deserve to be treated like a common criminal,” Angelica said stiffly. “Unfortunately, that doesn't stop it from happening.”

Flynt noticed that she was staring at Weatherall and Searcy as she spoke, her words directed to them as much as to him. The two men had remained on the porch while the uniformed officers were inside the house, presumably searching and seizing.

What were they looking for? Flynt wondered. Or who? He was truly flummoxed.

“Did you use to work for the Bureau, like the kid said, Corrigan?” Weatherall asked him curiously.

“For seven years.” Flynt nodded. “Minus the license to kill of course.” Maybe supplying a few details of his former career would win him some information in exchange. “I was based in California. Mostly Silicon Valley, investigating economic espionage.”

“No kidding?” Weatherall looked interested. “I've heard there's a lot of industrial espionage and commercial spying out there in those high-tech companies.”