Married by Monday (The Weekday Brides #2)(19)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“Could be anything from homicide to making sure someone like you is protected against a viable threat. Where did you meet these two?”

“They wanted to talk to my…to a friend of mine. She didn’t seem surprised to see them.”

“A friend huh?”

“A special friend,” Carter said.

“What else can you tell me?”

Carter debated his options. He gave Roger a small profile of Eliza. Told him she was an engaging, intelligent woman whose private life was her own. He ended his description by telling Roger that she carried a handgun.

“What’s she afraid of?” Roger asked him.

“I don’t know. She’s not a needy woman. In fact, she managed to lose my bodyguard and the two detectives in broad daylight.”

“You sure she’s not a cop?”

“Positive.”

“You gonna give me her name or are you gonna make me guess?”

With all the media painting Eliza as his girlfriend, Carter knew Roger would figure it out sooner than later. “Eliza Havens. You know I need this kept quiet.”

“Well, I guess I should stop updating my Facebook page then,” Roger teased. “I got your back. Let me do a little digging. If she is carrying legally, there will be a traceable record as to her reason why. Getting a conceal and carry for a civilian is damn near impossible in California. Here too,” he added. “Makes me glad I’m a cop.”

“Thanks Roger.”

“Oh, do you have a name on the detectives?”

Carter gave him the names, and they said their goodbyes.

****

Eliza lifted the wig in the bottom of her closet and cringed. She’d forced herself out of bed early, fully intending to pack a bag and move on.

Now she sat cross-legged in front of her half filled suitcase with doubts.

She and Samantha had built an amazing friendship. Little Eddie was like a nephew to Eliza, and she couldn’t imagine not seeing his chubby little face grow up. Even Gwen and all her pent-up haughty ways had grown on her.

Then there was Alliance. The business Samantha had started and they now ran together. Eliza envisioned some of the women she’d grown to know through Alliance. Some of them came from ugly families who’d used their children like pawns on a chessboard to get what they’d wanted. These women searching out husbands to keep them financially stable did so to get what they wanted and to tick off their families. Each story was unique. Each one believable.

When she thought about it, Eliza’s story wasn’t as sad as some. At least her parents had loved her before their deaths.

She remembered their voices at times in the night when everything was still and quiet. The soft way her mother would speak to her and tell her a bedtime story. Her father always called her pumpkin in his deep, booming voice.

Her parents had this crazy love that wrapped around her and kept her safe.

And in one night, all of that shattered into a zillion pieces.

Eliza swiped a tear from her face and forced the painful memories aside. She missed having a family to call her own and had found some of that love with her friends.

She shoved away from the suitcase and jumped to her feet. After a fast rummage though her drawers, she found the outfit she was looking for and put it on.

She wouldn’t run. Not yet. She’d take Jim’s advice and duck out of the public eye. Brush up on a few moves that kept her confident, if not safe.

And she’d watch.

She’d listen.

And run like hell if her past wanted to catch up with her and threaten those she’d grown to love.

****

Dean sucked in a full lung of nicotine and let it stream out between pursed lips. He’d tried kicking the habit over the years and finally gave into the fact that he was a smoker. Wasn’t going to change no matter how much gum he chewed or how many bogus psychological bullshit tapes he listened to.

He’d been a cop since his early twenties, had said “I do” twice, and then gave up half his shit twice again to say “I sure as hell don’t.”

There were very few constants in his life. Jim was the closest thing to a brother he’d ever had and even his own daughter didn’t go out of the way to call, even on Father’s day.

He tapped the end of his cigarette against the ashtray and turned up the volume of the news.

Eliza’s image flashed on the screen, and he upped the volume even more.

She’d grown into a beautiful woman. Seeing her on the TV made him a little sick. It had been a few days since he’d seen Eliza and the news had backed off. Until today.

“Gubernatorial candidate Carter Billings has taken a slight dip in the preliminary polls after the Texas brawl recorded last week. Even with the eyewitness account of Eliza Havens, the people aren’t ready to vote on such a young and unattached candidate. Billing’s rival in the polls, Darnell Arnold, wasted little time learning more about Miss Havens and holding a press conference of his own.”

Dean left the cigarette in the tray and leaned forward in his seat. His fist clutched the remote and his eyes narrowed.

“Seems Mr. Billings has been known to spend quite a bit of time with Eliza Havens. Some even say if Billings wins the election there may be a rare wedding of the newly elected governor while he’s in office. This assumption was vocalized in Mr. Arnold’s interviews.” The reporter cut out of the scene, and Arnold stood in front of several reporters. As usual, the politician didn’t talk politics, he talked crap and the people listened. Dean had been around enough years to identify bullshit when he heard it. It helped that he knew Eliza Havens better than anyone could.

“What do we really know about Miss. Havens?” Arnold asked. “She might have several influential friends, foreign friends I might add, but it seems this woman appeared out of nowhere. There are no school records, no birth records. I’ve heard of politicians unknowingly hiring an illegal alien, but to elect a governor who might place an illegal as the first lady of our state should be avoided.”

“Sonofabitch!” Dean yelled at the set. “She’s legal you ass-wipe.”

The news ran footage of Eliza’s press conference as well as a few shots of her at various functions. Many of which she stood by Billing’s side. Most of the shots hid some of her face, but not all.

One in particular reminded Dean of her mother. And if he noticed the similarities, so would others.

The broadcast switched to another story, and Dean forced himself from his favorite chair before grabbing the phone. He hoped to hell Eliza wasn’t serious about this guy. He and Jim needed to convince her to disappear, and he knew from experience that getting the cooperation from women in love was like stopping a cockroach from snacking on a forgotten doughnut.