Back in Black (37 page)

“They’ll all be on your side.”

That was cold comfort at this point. Faith welcomed the anger starting to surge through her. It kept the pain and humiliation at bay.

So much for her happy ending. Faith had continued to believe in her fairy-tale wedding even when Alan hadn’t shown up for the pre-ceremony photographs, even when his best man had refused to look her in the eye, even when the minister had approached her privately to ask if she wanted to delay the proceedings.

“He’ll show up,” Faith had kept saying. “You’ll see. He’ll show up. And he’ll have the lamest excuse for being late.”

Her belief in Alan and her faith in a positive outcome had lasted longer than it should have and was now as tattered as the lace handkerchief she’d nervously shredded with her beautifully manicured fingers.

Last night he’d claimed he loved her, yet today he didn’t want her. How did that work? Did Alan love her like he loved fine wine and the Cubs instead of the way you loved the person you were supposed to marry? Weren’t Cub fans supposed to be the most loyal guys on the planet?

Faith was having a hard time thinking coherently and she felt cold enough to get frostbite. The man she loved didn’t want her. She couldn’t think about that or she’d dissolve into a sobbing mess. But she could think of nothing else.

Her parents burst into the anteroom. “I finally tracked him down,” Jeff West said. His usually smooth brown hair was messed from him running impatient fingers through it. “The bastard took a flight to Bali an hour ago. One way.”

Alan has gone to Bali searching for adventure and excitement, because he couldn’t fi nd any with me. So much for love and commitment. I guess those things don’t matter to him.
I
don’t matter to him.

What had she done to make him change his mind about marrying her? He couldn’t have thought she was boring when he proposed. So what had changed?

Would Alan have stayed if he’d known she was a crack shot with a gun? Her dad had taken her to the firing range and taught her himself when she was ten. Faith had never told Alan about her weapons training because she didn’t like to brag about the marksmanship awards she’d won. Maybe she should have. Maybe then he’d have thought twice about dumping her. Maybe then he’d have thought she was more exciting. A children’s librarian who had a gun and knew how to use it. Yeah, that ranked right up there on the excitement scale with . . . what?

What
was
Alan’s definition of exciting? Interest rates and the stock market? Sex in the middle of Wrigley Field? A blow job in Bali?

“You poor baby.” Faith’s mother, Sara, sat beside her and hugged her. “He seemed like such a nice investment banker.”

“There was nothing in his background to indicate he’d bolt like this,” her dad said. “I had him thoroughly checked out. Other than being a Cubs fan instead of a Sox fan, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him. He wasn’t seeing another woman, or another man, wasn’t defrauding the bank or his clients.”

“Maybe he just got a case of cold feet,” Megan said. “He could still come back.”

“And when he does, I’ll beat the crap out of him,” Jeff growled.

Faith would have thought that her fiancé would be smart enough to figure out that dumping her at this late date meant there was no place he could hide. Not even Bali. Her father would track him down and make him pay . . . big time.

Only one person was more imposing than Jeff West and that was Aunt Lorraine, who was now trying to push her way back into the room.

“Get rid of her,” Faith begged her parents.

“Gladly,” her dad said. “Do you think I haven’t wanted to make her disappear for years now? But your mother would never let me.”

“She’s my much older sister,” Sara said apologetically. “She practically raised me.”

“And she scares you shitless,” Jeff said. “Believe me, I get it.”

“She implied it was my fault Alan left,” Faith said. It turned out the Duchess of Grimness was right. According to Alan’s brief text message, it was obvious that he blamed Faith for being too dull for him.

“Your fault? That does it.” Sara glared at Lorraine, who was still trying to get in the room but was being prevented by Megan. “She’s gone too far this time.” A curtain of fierce determination fell over Sara’s face. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle her.” She marched over and moved Lorraine out of the room.

Watching her mother’s totally uncharacteristic behavior, Faith realized anything was possible. Anything but her wedding. There was no saving that now.

“What are we going to do?” Faith asked her dad. “All those people are out there waiting. We’ve got the wedding reception at the Ritz-Carlton. You paid so much for everything.” Tears welled again but she dashed them away. Alan had said there were only a handful of people he wanted to invite. His parents were dead and he had no other close family. Since almost all of the guests were from her side of the family, Alan had been perfectly happy to have Jeff foot the bill, and her dad had done so with boatloads of paternal pride.

Again, what would Jane Austen do? She would take control.

“Tell the people in the church that due to circumstances beyond our control, the ceremony has been canceled,” Faith said. “Tell them the reception is still on. Don’t cancel it. You might as well enjoy it.”

“That’s my girl,” her dad said. “We’ll get our money’s worth as a celebration of friends and family. And it makes good business sense since a lot of West Investigation’s top clients are also in the audience and will be at the reception.”

“Are you nuts?” her mom said, having rejoined them in time to hear Faith’s request.

“Probably,” Faith muttered.

“I was talking to your father.” She turned to face him. “Your daughter is suffering and all you can do is talk about business and money?”

“I could put out a hit on Alan,” Jeff growled, “but I’m restraining myself.”

“I know people who could do the job,” Faith’s paternal grandmother said, speaking up for the first time. Her blue eyes and high cheekbones proclaimed her Scandinavian heritage while her gelled, spiky haircut revealed her rebel nature. “They’re in the Swedish mob.”

Jeff frowned. “I never heard of the Swedish mob.”

“Of course not. They’re very discreet. Not like the Finnish mob.”

“I appreciate the offer, Gram, but it’s not necessary,” Faith said.

“Well, if you change your mind, the offer stands,” Gram assured her.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that.” She patted Faith’s hand. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

“Thanks.” She took a deep breath but felt the walls closing in on her. “Listen, you guys don’t have to stay with me. Go on to the reception and please give everyone my regrets, but I just can’t . . .” She shook her head, unable to go on.

“You have nothing to be regretful about,” her mom said.

“Except regret at ever hooking up with Alan the Asshole to begin with.”

“Are you sure you want us to go?” Her mom looked uncertain.

“Yes, I’m sure. Megan will stay with me, right?”

“Of course I will.”

“See, I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will . . . in time.” Gram patted her hand again. “A year or two should do it.”

When they finally left, Megan looked at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Not yet. But after a few mojitos I will be. Now please help me get out of this damn dress!”

 

 

FAITH woke with a hammering headache and the sound of intense roaring in her ears. Her eyelids didn’t seem to want to open but she was able to sneak a peek through a narrow slit. The limited view was not enough to tell her where she was.

“This is your captain speaking. We’ll be landing in Naples in about an hour.”

Her eyes flew open.

“The flight attendants will be going through the cabin . . .”

Faith didn’t pay attention to the rest of the announcement as the events of the day and night before came rushing back. Left at the altar. Humiliated, brokenhearted, angry. She and Megan downing several mojitos at a neighborhood bar before heading to Faith’s Streeterville condo only to trip over Faith’s suitcases just inside the door. A matched set of luggage packed with carefully chosen outfits for her dream honeymoon to the Amalfi coast in Italy.

Alan had wanted them to spend their honeymoon elephant riding in India because his boss at the bank had done that and raved about it. Personally, Faith was not that fond of pachyderms. Had he left her because of that? Because she didn’t want to boogie with the elephants?

It wasn’t like her choice was dull or boring. Who didn’t like sunny Italy? Faith had longed to go to the Amalfi coast ever since she’d seen the movie
Under the Tuscan Sun
and watched Diane Lane swept off her feet in the beautiful town of Positano.

She distinctly remembered shouting at her living room wall the night before. “Alan ruined my wedding, but he’s not going to ruin this, too! I refuse to allow him to mess up any more of my life! I’ll show you exciting and adventurous! I’m going to Italy! Solo! Solo Mio!”

Faith spent the last two years trying to please Alan. This trip was one of the few times she’d stood her ground and refused to back down. Once he didn’t get his way, Alan had completely lost interest and told her to handle all the arrangements. Gladly, she had—which was why she had possession of the nonrefundable tickets and the rest of the travel reservations.

Megan had been supportive as always. “Go for it! I’d come with you but I can’t get away from work right now.”

Sitting on the plane, Faith felt as if she’d just woken up from a long, drugged sleep. Unlike Sleeping Beauty, she hadn’t been brought back to life by a kiss from a handsome prince. Instead she’d been brought back to reality by the handsome prince screwing her over.

The ironic thing was that Faith was usually a worst-case-scenario specialist, always prepared in case things went wrong. One of her dad’s favorite mottoes, which she’d imbibed, was “Expect the worst, and if it doesn’t happen, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Her relationship with Alan was the one time she’d allowed herself to believe . . . and look what happened.

She ended up on a flight to Italy. Alone. Her first solo trip ever. But it was better than moping in her condo crying her eyes out. She’d taken action. She’d left the mayhem behind in Chicago, calling her dad and telling him she was fleeing the country.

There was no time to reflect further on her actions as the flight attendants prepared for their landing. Her arrival in Naples went smoothly as she cleared customs with no problem. Two aspirins and a bottle of Pellegrino water took care of the headache. Her rental car was ready . . . and so was she.

She
was
ready, right? She wasn’t going to let fear hold her back, right? She could do this. She
would
do this.

Faith plugged her iPod into the sound system and moments later the Gnarls Barkley song “Crazy” blared out of the sporty little red Italian convertible’s speakers. She’d had to put her smaller suitcase in the passenger seat next to her since it didn’t fit anywhere else.

The instant she hit the road, all the other drivers seemed determined to
hit
her. She refused to let them. She’d handled rush-hour traffic in Vegas, not to mention on the Kennedy Expressway in Chicago during construction season. The crazy Italian drivers didn’t scare her. Being alone on her honeymoon scared her if she thought about it. So she refused to think about it and instead stepped on the gas, cranked up the sound system, and sang along with her favorite Bon Jovi CD,
Lost Highway
.

 

 

CAINE Hunter had his instructions. Keep an eye on Faith West, keep track of her actions, and report them back to Chicago. He knew a lot about her already—children’s librarian, jilted bride, handy with a gun. Her team from the library in Las Vegas where she’d worked two years ago had come in second place in the city’s Corporate Challenge, an event where organizations compete in various sporting events. She’d aced the shooting event.

Caine was only mildly impressed. She still seemed liked a spoiled little rich girl to him, with her fancy wedding in one of the most prestigious churches in Chicago, a fancy banker fiancé, and a condo in Chicago’s trendiest Streeterville neighborhood. Not that the wedding or the fiancé had panned out for her in the end. Too bad, so sad.

No one had ever accused him of being the sentimental type.

He’d say this for Faith West, she didn’t drive like a librarian . . . more like race car driver Danica Patrick. Driving in Italy, especially around Naples, was not for wimps.

Yet here she was, weaving in and out of traffic, music blaring. Was she really that reckless or just plain stupid? Hard to tell at this point, but Caine aimed on finding that out . . . among other things.

 

 

FAITH’S knuckles were permanently white by the time she reached the small town of Positano. The infamous “road of a thousand curves” on which she’d been traveling clung precariously to the steep cliffs and was narrower than her parents’ driveway at home. That didn’t stop huge tour buses from barreling around the blind curves, hogging the entire road, and making her fear for her life and her sanity.

But she’d done it. She’d made it here. Alive. In one piece. Jane Austen would be so proud.

“Welcome to the Majestic Hotel, Mrs. Anderson.” Huge terra-cotta urns filled with flowers bracketed the reception desk adorned with colorful majolica tiles. The lobby, with its antiques and artwork, was a study of understated elegance. “We have the honeymoon suite all ready for you and your husband.”

Her stomach clenched. This was no honeymoon and she had no husband. But she did have sunshine, breathtaking views, and the scent of citrus blossoms in the air. “It’s Ms. West. Faith West. Not Mrs. Anything. I called ahead to explain the change . . .”