Married by Monday (The Weekday Brides #2)(28)
Author: Catherine Bybee

Carter wished he’d seen the old man’s face when Jay slighted him with the question. Maxwell should have been a five-star general in a former life. He commanded attention when he walked in a room, and seldom did anyone question his authority.

Jay questioned.

As Jay had assumed, the unexpected and unwanted visit from his uncle took a minute to absorb. Carter considered himself adaptable, but Uncle Max was the self ordained patriarch of Carter’s family and a first class son-of-a-bitch if there ever was one.

Jay managed to divert Max until Carter figured out why Max had sought him out.

Carter and Jay worked franticly, searching Carter’s cases with Max’s colleagues and friends. Sure enough, a son of a diplomat was due to appear in Carter’s court within the week. Prepared for the suggestion from his uncle, Carter met him for drinks that night at the hotel where his uncle was staying. There was small talk. A few, “How is the family doing?” questions, and then Max proceeded to try to bend Carter’s decision to Max’s will. Max smoothed the collar of his perfectly tailored suit jacket along his chest. The man was fit, barely carrying an extra pound around his belly, but the years in office were catching up with him. Streaks of gray peppered his brown hair. He was blessed with good looks and charisma, the two things money couldn’t buy in politics.

“I understand one of the Prescott boys is going to be in your court next week. Some kind of domestic issue.”

“Is that so?” Carter lifted his drink to his lips, completely prepared for what was coming next.

“Kids make mistakes.”

Not this one. Joe Prescott II was one spoiled bastard who had managed to escape justice for every misdeed he’d been guilty of since his teens. At twenty-three, the rape and physical evidence the prosecution had on Joe’s crimes should wipe the perpetual smirk of the kid’s face for a long time. Although Carter had yet to hear the case, the eyewitness testimony and physical evidence was apparently ironclad.

The evidence was what every cop wanted, and what every lawyer loved. As a judge, it made his job easy.

Joe had waved a jury trial in hopes of bribing the judge.

Carter hoped the police didn’t screw something up, and testimony or evidence wouldn’t have to be thrown out. Shitheads like Joe and his political friends needed to understand that some judges didn’t sell out. No matter who asked.

“Baseballs breaking windows are accidents. Tying defenseless women up and assaulting them…not so much.”

Max took of a swig of his drink. “The girl is unreliable. From a bad family.”

“That makes it okay?”

“Don’t be stupid. Prescott is a good kid. He’s changed.”

Carter sat back in his chair and watched the unease from his Uncle. He couldn’t help but smile and enjoy his moment of uncertainty.

“Prescott gives everyone with a ‘Y’ chromosome a bad name.”

Max’s glass hit the counter with a thud. “The case needs to go away.”

“To protect your political dollars?”

“Make it happen.”

The last thing Carter wanted was more politicians like his uncle running the country. Knowing his Uncle Max like he did, Carter said little more about the case and was determined to do all he could to send Joe to jail.

Less than a week later, Joe Prescott II was found guilty beyond reasonable doubt and had his own escort to the state penitentiary where he should have had plenty of time to contemplate his misguided life.

Should have.

Max never spoke of the trial, never spoke of the case. However, after only fifteen months in prison, an executive pardon exempted everything Joe Prescott did and set him free.

Carter was livid. He knew what happened. He knew the ties Uncle Max had pulled to set the kid free.

“Well? Is it Eliza?”

Jay’s question snapped Carter out of his past memories and to the present.

“Why would you ask that?”

“She’s beautiful. An easy distraction.”

That she was. Even though Carter trusted Jay, he wouldn’t reveal any of his true concerns when it came to Eliza. “I had a life before I decided to run for Governor.”

Jay tossed his head back and laughed. “No, you didn’t. I was there, remember?”

“Just because it wasn’t displayed for your eyes, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”

“Don’t give me that crap. Dating and an occasional toss don’t constitute a love life. And outside of your job you didn’t do squat. You’ve made this job a cake walk up until that stunt in the cowboy parking lot.”

The cowboy parking lot had mucked up his momentum and helped his rivals take the lead. If only Eliza would agree to marry him. Then he could keep an eye on her and make the good citizens of California see that he was the right person for the job.

“Is this distraction of yours going to keep you from the luncheon in Chicago tomorrow?

“No.” Lunch in Chicago to raise funds tomorrow, San Francisco the next night. How in the world was he supposed to snag a wife—no make that…snag Eliza—when he was jet-setting all over the country?

And what if someone was watching her?

What if the dirt-bag responsible for her parents’ deaths wanted to speed up Eliza’s date with death? A familiar burn in his stomach started to warm his insides. “Remind me again…who are Montgomery’s supporters?”

While Jay rattled off the Governor of Illinois’s allies in congress, Carter did his best to not think of Eliza and the four legged furry friend protecting her when Carter couldn’t be by her side.

****

“For a police dog…” Eliza waved three inch high heel at Zod while she yelled. “You sure have a thing or two to learn about manners!”

Zod tilted his head to the side and continued to pant. Not an ounce of guilt marred the dog’s expression.

Eliza eyed the puncture marks in the heel and felt her blood pressure soar all over again. She had a half a mind to send Jim and Dean a bill.

The front door to her home opened and a calm female voice announced the breach into the interior of the home as if it were a flight arriving on time at O’Hare. Front door! Equally annoying was the back sliding door opening, or a window being opened. Only when the system was armed would an actual alarm blaze a siren that would wake the neighborhood.

It was overkill. All of it. “Bad dog,” Eliza scolded one last time before dumping the shoe on the counter.

Gwen sailed into the kitchen with a garment bag in her arms. “I thought I heard you in here.” Gwen wore the perfect smile, under the perfect nose, without one hair out of place. Eliza was sure that the girls Gwen had gone to school with probably hated her for her perfection.