There Goes the Groom (3 page)

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.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

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.”

Anger filled the woman’s eyes, then she licked those pouty red lips and shoved one foot onto the cement. He tried not to stare at the blood red color on her toes and the diamond ankle bracelet she was wearing.

God Almighty, did she have to be so blasted sexy?

She was like sin rolled into one delicious little package of temptation.

But she tripped over the netting of her wedding gown as she tried to stand on the slick pavement, and he cursed. If he didn’t help her, he’d probably be accused of police brutality.

Silently willing himself to ignore those luscious breasts spilling over the top of the bodice of her dress, he took her arm and steadied her as she emerged from the car. The crinoline swished back and forth as they walked toward the steps, the rain drenching her wild curly hair.

The weasel that had eyed him when he parked was obviously lust-stricken and sidled up next to Marci. “Miss Turner, did you and your boyfriend set up that phony Desert Sand Resort and con all your friends at the country club?”

Marci jerked to a stop and batted her eyes at the man. “I would never hurt anyone by taking their money.”

Cade gripped her arm and shot the weasel a scathing look. “Move so I can escort Miss Turner inside.”

Georgia raced over and interceded. “We will issue a statement as soon as we finish the investigation.”

Suddenly another car screeched up, and his nana jumped out and tottered toward them. Cade shook his head in warning at her, but she flew at them, then began beating Marci with her handbag. “How could you marry a man who steals from seniors?” she screeched.  “Shame on you. We’re on fixed incomes!”

“Nana,” Cade said as he gently pulled her away. “Stop it!”

Marci stumbled backward, her veil sliding to one side as she tried to remain on her feet.

Another car screeched up, and his grandmother’s caretaker Lula Bell jumped out. “I’m sorry, Mr. Muller, she’s off her meds again.”

“Please drive her home, Lula Bell,” Cade said through clenched teeth. He’d do it, but he was too afraid he’d throttle the woman. She might be eighty but she was spry as they came.

“Shame, shame, shame,” Nana yelled as Lula Bell dragged her toward her car.

Cade yanked Marci inside the door to escort her to booking. Her breathing sounded labored, and more tears had begun to pour.

He gritted his teeth. He should have seen that coming.

“I’m sorry for your Nana,” Marci said with a gulp, surprising him.

He figured she’d be mad as a hornet.

Still, he ignored her sniffles and her apology. If she had helped Pendergrass, her words meant nothing.

Once they processed her, he intended to lock her into an interrogation room and get some answers.

And no amount of eye batting or lip licking was going to stop him from finding out the truth.

But first he’d let her stew in holding for a while. A little time to meet a few of the inmates and think about what she’d done might persuade her to talk when he finally questioned her.

Besides, he needed to calm down. Brace himself to battle her beguiling eyes and sultry voice.

He also had to gather the evidence he’d collected to show her just in case she needed extra incentive to give him a confession.

*~*~*~*

“Turn to the right, Ma’am.”

Marci swiped at her tattered veil as she did as the officer instructed.

“Now left.”

She gave him her left side, although she wanted to point out that her right profile was her better side.

Not that he cared.

From the moment Detective Muller had escorted her in, they’d treated her like some animal. And he was watching her now with hawk eyes as if he thought she was hiding something beneath her gown.

Ink stained her fingers from the fingerprinting, forcing her to try not to touch her dress for fear she’d leave black spots on the lace.

Another hysterical laugh caught in her throat. Why in the heck did she care if she got ink on her dress? Her wedding day was ruined. Her dress was already in shambles.

Her future was a wreck.

Now she had a criminal record.

And if the cop’s accusations were true and Paul was a con artist, her bank account was probably empty as well.

No way to even pay for the attorney she desperately needed to get her butt out of jail.

She could call Kim.

Shame and humiliation filled her. No…she’d always called Kim to bail her out of trouble. She had to find another way.

“Come on, Miss.”

Detective Muller hauled in the corner.  “Spread ‘em, Ma’am. We have to search you before we take you to holding.”

Search her? “You want me to strip?”

He raised a crooked brow. “Well, I was just going to pat you down but if you’re offering?”

Marci glared at him and spread her arms like they were wings. His thick long hands skated over her arms then down her sides, and his gaze lingered on her breasts with another eyebrow raise.

“They
are
real,” she said tightly.