Lucky in Love (19 page)

"
I still don't think that little stunt fell within the jurisdiction of the FBI investigation," I said primly.

Angela just smiled cheerfully.
"You can't tell me you didn't appreciate it."

"
I won't tell you that, but I'm not admitting anything, either."

"
I thought you'd like to know," Angela said, finally changing the subject, "I've gotten word on the condition of our rescued band of misfits."

"
How is Fisher doing? And Tamara?"

"
Fisher's still touch and go, but the doctors do expect him to recover. Dominick's men worked him over pretty well. He had some internal injuries. A ruptured spleen, some broken ribs."

I winced, picturing how easy it must
've been for them—Fisher was so skinny and gangly. Unless he had a black belt in Tai Kwan Do I didn't know about, it would have been a cakewalk for Dominick's goons. I pictured the last time I'd seen him, and hoped that they had gotten him some new glasses. For some reason, those damaged frames hanging crookedly from his savagely beaten face was an image that haunted me almost worse than anything else that had happened.

"
Tamara is doing better," Angela continued. "She's going to have some recovery ahead of her, too, but it'll be mostly mental. They don't think there's been any permanent damage, physically. She's been tucked away, too, along with the rest of the girls in different locations. Kristy is home with her parents—she says she never told Dominick or any of them where she was from, so it was determined she'd be safe enough there."

"
Was she a runaway?" I guessed.

"
Yeah, but from what I heard, her parents were overwhelmed to have her returned to them. She originally ran away because they refused to let her date until she was sixteen, and she had a crush on a boy at school. She's only fifteen," Her lips tightened in disgust, as she flicked on the turn signal of the rented Camry and turned down a residential street. It looked pretty blue-collar, but most of the houses were well-kept. Children played in the yards, their parents on front porches, in lawn chairs, or hovering over grills nearby, all of them oblivious to the evil that walked the world right beside to them. "My boss is thrilled that she'll be another deep nail in Dominick's coffin, but I'm just sickened."

That same combination of disgust and loathing were churning in my own gut.
"What about Julian? Nate?"

"
They're fine," she said. "Julian is a pistol and plays poker like a shark, according to his assigned agent, and Nate actually had a broken leg. If we'd have had any idea, he'd have been treated much sooner, but he was too busy playing tough guy to mention the excruciating pain he was in. Lucky for him it was a simple fracture. He's apparently been driving Agent Faulkner nuts with questions on Tamara's condition—I still can't believe he carried her like that on a broken leg."

"
Jeeze, you guys have quite a network," I said, consciously pulling my thoughts away from Tanya, whose fate Nate most likely was torturing himself over. "You've got enough gossip at your fingertips to fill up a
Young and the Restless
episode."

"
Well, it all stays internal," she said righteously. "Not sure who you'd go running off to tell, except your boyfriend, and he can't really go tattling either."

Angela pulled the car up to the curb in front of a little brown bungalow, where several other cars were already parked. Through the rolled-down windows, I could hear voices and laughter in the backyard. The smoky smell from the grill perfumed the humid air.

"Hey, I told my mom that I had a visitor with me, and if anyone asked, she was to say that you were a cousin on Dad's side, his late sister's niece that she found recently through Ancestry.com."

I
climbed out of the Camry, stepped down on the curb wrong and fell down in the grass, sliding partially under the car. I was still dragging myself out from underneath when Angela came around to help me up and a horde of children screaming, "Aunt Angela!" came pouring out of the back yard. They all stopped, staring at the crazy lady sitting in their front yard, dress hiked up around her thighs, big floppy hat askew, laughing like a loon. Bad luck was the one constant in my life and it was nice to know that some things didn't change. Shaking her head, Angela pulled me to my feet.

"You weren't kidding about that nickname, huh." She
hooked her arm through mine. "I feel like I might be taking my life into my hands here, but I'll say it anyway. Welcome to the family, Cousin Lucky."

Chapter 35

Angela dropped me off at the door of my room at around midnight. It had been an exhausting day. The Wilkinsons were noisy and boisterous and friendly, and had pulled me into their tight-knit circle without question. After a few hours in their company, and a huge parting hug given to me by Angela's petite but formidable Mama Rose, I was officially family, Witness Protection or not, and I already had an invite for the next family get-together.

I let myself into the room, smiling when I remembered Angela
's youngest brother Luther's wistful comment that he wished we weren't related. He was tall and handsome, with darker skin than Angela, and his dad's startling blue eyes. Once he hit high school, he was going to break all the ladies' hearts.

I stopped unsteadily when I saw the TV
was on, and my heart leapt into my throat, but the flickering light showed Chance, sprawled out on my bed, asleep. He had been watching an old western. John Wayne swaggered across the TV in black and white next to me as I passed in front of it, but the sound was muted.

I stood at the side of the bed for a moment, studying the thick column of his throat, the dark, thick lashes that rested on his cheeks. His lips were parted slightly, but unlike me, he didn
't drool in his sleep or snore unless he'd taken muscle relaxers apparently. Quietly, I grabbed the extra blanket from the tiny closet area and slipped off my sandals. Climbing carefully into bed next to him, so I didn't jostle and wake him, I eased the blanket over both of us and curled into his side. Just before I fell asleep, I felt his arm come around my back and nestle me in closer to him.

The next morning dawned dark and grey. The sky was a solid shade of pewter, and a warm drizzle fell sullenly, soaking everything. I didn't care, though. I woke cradled in Chance's arms, his lips nuzzling my hair.

"
Mornin,'" he mumbled sleepily.

Discreetly, I checked for morning breath in my cupped hand, and I felt his chest rumble with a laugh.
"Good morning," I said, keeping my mouth closed as much as I could. The crumpled dress that I'd worn the day before was hiked up around my waist, and I slipped a hand between us to tug it down. Chance's hand, large and warm, stilled it and slipped around back to curve around my ass.

"
I could wake up next to this for the rest of my life," he said, squeezing gently. "How soon can we get married?"

I laughed, assuming he was joking.
"Right, because you're so the marrying type."

"
Actually," he replied thoughtfully, "I think I am. I don't typically run around having hot monkey sex unprotected and I think I'd feel better doing that with my wife."

I reared up on my elbows to glare into his face. The swelling around his shiner had gone down, and his eyes twinkled.
"You're not serious."

He flicked my nose and grinned crookedly.
"Yeah, I am. Now go brush your teeth, sugar."

He rolled out of bed, leaving me to gape after him.

"Did you just freaking propose to me and then tell me to go brush my teeth? Who
does
that?"

I was momentarily distracted by the rippling muscles in his back under his tee-shirt as he crouched down to rummage in a backpack on the floor. He didn
't answer, and I threw the pillow at the back of his head, jumping out of bed to stalk to the bathroom. I slammed the door on his chuckle.

I had showered, shaved my legs, dressed and brushed my teeth before I realized that my clothes were still in the other room. Oh, well, let him get an eyeful, I thought, trying futilely to stretch the miniscule towel over my top and bottom at the same time. Finally, I got my
ladybits mostly covered, except for my butt, and just figured I wouldn't turn my back to him. If he tried to get frisky, I'd make a grab for the sheet. He wasn't getting anything more than that. I didn't appreciate his sense of humor this morning.

He was stretched out on the bed with the morning news, drinking a cup of coffee when I came out. Eying me with a low, appreciative whistle, he saluted me with his
Styrofoam cup. I ignored him and dug a sundress and underthings out of a Target bag on the floor, maneuvering so the least amount of skin showed. Returning to the bathroom, I quickly changed into the knee-length, springy green gingham and eyelet dress and pulled my damp hair into a curling ponytail.

When I reemerged, he handed me a steaming cup and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the shower come on and sat down in his vacated spot. The news was still on, and I watched absently, listening to the shower running. A story was wrapping up about a school in Alabama growing a garden big enough to provide meals for their students all year. The volume was low, and I listened with half an ear, staring at the screen vacantly and trying not to imagi
ne Chance soaping himself down.

Then my picture was on the TV
—I recognized it as an old one from a few years ago, taken by my mom. It was snapped when I was in mid-flight, trying to catch a Frisbee, but they had cropped the Frisbee out, so it was just my face, sporting a weird grimacey scowl. I spilled half of the coffee on the sheets trying to find the remote.

I fumbled with the buttons until the reporter
's chipper voice blared out deafeningly.

"
Yesterday, we brought you the strange story of Paige "Lucky" MacFarlane, the recently announced Massive Millions lottery winner, and her mysterious disappearance."

They cut to my mom, looking all fluttery and bewildered, her blonde hair escaping in wisps from her bun, saying
"I'm sure she's just fine—she dropped off her cat." Mom shuddered visibly and continued. "She also left me a nice note saying she would be out of town for a few days."

A reporter practically shoved a microphone up her nose.
"Mrs. MacFarlane, do you think that your daughter was the victim of foul play?"

She looked uncertain for a moment, but shook her head.
"No, dear. My daughter is very independent and comes and goes as she pleases. I'm sure she'll call soon." Crap, I'd have to talk to Angela and see how soon we could arrange that. My mom wasn't known for her ability to gauge the gravity of a situation, or keep a secret for that matter, so it might be a tricky phone call.

The news story cut back to the picture of me. For Pete
's sake, at least my Witness Protection cover wouldn't be blown from that photo. I looked like a freak.

But the reporter
's next words stopped my self-critical musings short. "The clip you just saw was from a Fox news affiliate's interview with Miss MacFarlane's mother yesterday. But in a bizarre twist, the MacFarlane family has experienced two more disappearing family members since that footage was filmed."

My mouth fell open as another picture popped up on the screen. Jack
's signature smirk was softened a little around the edges, his arm around a beaming Addy, and both were dressed in their wedding clothes. Addy looked angelic and Jack—Jack, the masculine version of me with his wind-touseled auburn hair and snapping blue eyes, actually looked happy.

"
Oh, no." I whispered, and then screamed, "Chance!"

Chapter 36

I had my fist pressed to my mouth when he burst out of the bathroom.

"
Ssh," I hushed him frantically before he could speak, pointing at the TV.

"
Jack and Addyson MacFarlane, recently married and on their honeymoon in Seattle, Washington, were abducted two days ago. A waiter at a restaurant came to collect their check and instead found a cocktail napkin skewered to their table with a steak knife." The reporter grinned, relishing the details. I wanted to punch him through the TV screen, right in his toothy, capped grill. "Thinking that they had skipped out on their bill, he ran to the front doors, just in time to see Mr. and Mrs. MacFarlane being forced into a vehicle by two armed men."

"
Police are refusing to comment until further details are known, but an anonymous informant emailed our station this photo."

It was a grainy picture, but I immediately recognized the logo of Dominick
's hotel, the Lucky Seven. I sucked in a breath.

"
Current speculation is that the logo on the napkin probably refers to Lucky MacFarlane, and the kidnappers, knowing of her recent windfall, will be sending a ransom note."