Microsoft Word - FortunesFool.rtf (41 page)

If she could only untie herself.

* * * *

slammed a sledgehammer against his skull. His face hurt like a

sonofabitch, and a flood of memories came rushing back. After leaving

Miranda's apartment he had gone straight home to fax the ledger pages to headquarters. He hadn't anticipated two goons jumping out at him like a

couple of jack in the boxes. He had put up a good fight until one man

clocked him across the face while the other used his body as a punching

bag. Matt tried to move now and discovered his hands and feet were

bound. He lifted his head and was greeted with the end of a nine

millimeter barrel. A soft click warned him to stay comfortable on the

lumpy bed of pungent garbage and scraps. Somehow, he wasn't surprised

to find himself needing another hose-down when this was done and over

with.He cursed himself for allowing Miranda to cloud his judgment. The

woman had him so wound up he had forgotten to keep his guard up in

order to avoid incidents like this. Some agent he was! Never would he

have found himself in this predicament if it weren't for Miss Gypsy.

He blinked a few times and the blurred image came into focus. The

man pointing the gun at him looked like a contorted version of the guy

who had caught him with Miranda in the back room the night before.

Matt tried to formulate some escape plans when a piercing scream made

his assailant turn away.

"I would say don't go anywhere, but it looks like you're all tied up."

The big oaf chuckled as he walked away in the direction of the noise,

giving a self-congratulatory clap over his own wit.

Matt waited until the footsteps faded before maneuvering his body.

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Only a minute's worth of struggle loosened the ropes. "Musta failed Seamanship 101. Fuckin' idiot can't even tie a basic hard knot."

After a bit more kicking and tugging, he managed to free himself

from the restraints. Matt jumped out of the Dumpster and ran straight for the back door. He hoped to hell Miranda hadn't gotten herself into any

trouble.

Matt almost collided with the dopey goon in the alley doorway, but

he had the presence of mind to kick the gun out of the man's hand. A

solid right hook sent the criminal flying and Matt finished him off with the lid of a nearby trash can.

Matt figured the man would be out long enough for him to find

Miranda and get her out of danger. When he made it inside he found the

little vixen wielding a can of pepper spray like a deadly weapon. One of the goons lay on the floor yelping from the pain. A smile of relief spread across his lips at her bravery. He didn't know whether to kiss her or turn her over his knee and teach her a lesson for being so foolish.

Miranda squealed with delight upon seeing him and flung herself

into his arms. Matt gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"Now how'd you slip those ropes?"

She gave him a mischievous grin. "That was one of the few Girl

Scout badges I did earn." Miranda planted a hard smack on his lips and he chuckled. Matt would have to discuss that trick with her later when he had her safely tucked away in his bed.

"We don't have much time, Miranda. We need to tie up this other

buffoon and call for backup." He pried her away from his arms and she nodded in understanding.

The soft, familiar click of a cocked gun drew their gazes in Edith's

direction.

"You won't be calling anyone," the woman growled. Her kind face had twisted menacingly, while her wild eyes flashed.

Miranda knit her eyebrows together in confusion. "I don't

understand. You're involved?"

"I'm glad to hear you bought the Nana Edith routine. I've always

said that criminals make the best actresses." The woman gave her a

mocking smile.

Miranda's wounded expression increased Edith's delight. "Oh,

honey. Don't look so sad. I'm sure death won't be too bad. I'm actually

looking forward to it." The older woman raised the weapon and aimed at her chest. "It's a pity, though. You had a lot of potential."

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Matt stepped in front of Miranda to protect her and Edith gave him a

hard stare. "Let her go. It's me you want."

"Too late for chivalry, my boy. Say goodbye."

"Wait." Miranda stepped out from behind Archer. He gave her a

look that could kill, wondering what in the hell she was thinking. "You said I had potential."

Edith raised a silver brow. "Yes, well…I thought my sons had

potential." She indicated the crumpled figure on the floor with a nod of her head. "Look how well that turned out."

Miranda swallowed and took a step toward Edith. "You know I'm

nothing like them. I'm smarter, more reliable, more—"

"Yes, yes, I get it. You're the daughter I should have had. Get on

with it, I have a federal agent to kill." Her cackle echoed through the room.

"We could be a team, Edith."

"What?" Matt bellowed.

"Don't you move," Edith commanded, eyeing her Gypsy protégé.

Miranda continued, that smoky laugh of hers turned to ice. "I'm just getting the hang of the art of the con." She hooked a thumb back at Matt.

"This one half-believed I write
romance novels
for a living."

It was Edith's turn to laugh. The sound made Matt's blood run cold

and doubt began to set in. "So you want in, eh?"

"I think I've proven my acting skills." Miranda shrugged

nonchalantly. "Maybe actresses make the best criminals."

Matt's heartbeat ratcheted up another level. Could Miranda really

turn on him just like that?

Edith thought on this for a moment, her pale eyes like quicksilver.

"You're not blood. Why in the name of hell should I trust you?"

Miranda smiled. "Because I'm going to kill you a Fed."

"Be my guest, dear. Before you dispatch our hero, however, please

be advised that this gun will be trained on your every move. If you so

much as think about crossing me, I will not hesitate to murder you."

Miranda shrugged. "Of course."

"And please. No Mexican stand-off. It's such a cliché." Edith sighed wearily. "Now pick the gun off my worthless heap of a son over there and do what you have to do."

She did as she was told and whirled around to face Archer. His

mind's eye flashed with dozens of intense images of her. Naked in her

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of counterfeit. And now this final image. Her hazel eyes mocking him

over the barrel of a gun.

"Now say goodbye," Edith instructed.

Miranda's eyes flicked over to Edith and then back to Archer.

"Goodbye."

A shot rang out, whizzing past Matt's ear and ricocheting around the

room until a groan rose up from the man on the floor.

"You little bitch!" she wailed. "You shot my idiot son!"

Matt smirked.
That's my girl.

He jumped out at Edith and chopped at her gun hand directly above

the wrist, moving her hand inward and forcing her to drop the gun. "I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of death," he said, looking into her cold, narrow eyes. "So look forward to this."

Matt whipped a pair of cuffs out of his pocket. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a

court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at interrogation time and at court."

Miranda followed suit, tying up Edith's sons while Matt stood up

and pulled out his cell phone to call for reinforcements. Neither one

wanted to take any more chances.

"Great," he said. "They put me on hold."

He eyed her movements with admiration while listening to the

smooth jazz on the line. "That was some diversion, Miss Gypsy. Where'd you come up with that?"

Miranda shrugged, but glowed with his praise. "I've written a few

Westerns in my day. She said no Mexican stand-off, so I went to the next best cliché I could think of."

Matt shook his head and roared out his appreciative laughter. "You

are something else, Miranda Franklin. C'mere." He pulled her against him as they slid down into the corner.

Miranda laid her head on his shoulder while he trained the gun on

Edith and her sons. "Oddly enough, there's no place I'd rather be right now than the dank backroom of a criminal's lair waiting for back-up."

Archer kissed her head and smiled. "I know the feeling."

* * * *

Miranda jumped up from her desk and did a victory dance in her

bathrobe and flip-flops. Two weeks to the day from her exploits with

Archer, she had finished the first draft of the manuscript for
Illegal
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Tender
. Never mind that she hadn't heard from Archer during that time.

She could still use his moves to write one hell of a great sex scene

between Agent Chad Hartner and his sexy psychic, Samantha.

Miranda sighed blissfully. All of her worries had melted away with

three little words.
Three. Book. Deal.
Archer was a putz for disappearing like that, but she wouldn't let it get her down. She was a woman who

could appreciate great sex and leave it at that. Even if their union had seemed somehow predestined.

Mystical.

"Enough with mysticism. Time for a hard, cold dose of reality."

Miranda grabbed the waiting bag of trash from the kitchen and headed

out the door. She gave her attire a rueful glance, but told herself no one would be hanging around the alley waiting for her to show up looking

like a vagabond.

She reached the Dumpster and tossed in her trash, whirling around

when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Does that Dumpster make you as misty-eyed as it does me?"

Archer looked refreshed. Happy. Miranda tried to ignore her body's surge of remembrance at the sight of his tousled light brown hair and

delightful, sarcastic brown eyes.
Well, good for him.
Meanwhile, her hair was frizzy and her bathrobe was ratty.
Great.

Miranda narrowed her eyes. "Hardly."

"Well, I for one have fond memories of that tin box."

"I believe you're referring to the one behind New Elm Street. But

I'm sure you'd fit well in either," she scoffed.

"I've spent some time in both," he replied.

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "I'm not even going to ask."

"That's a good thing for you
and
me." He cleared his throat.

"Knowing you as I do, which is not very well…" he winked, "I figured you might want to know where I've been for the last two weeks. But you

wouldn't ask me, would you, Miranda?"

"No, I wouldn't." She wrapped her bathrobe tighter around herself.

"When a man says 'see you around,' I don't ask questions."

"I'm going to answer them, anyway." He took a deep breath. "When I arrested you…when I…
we
took down Edith's sons…I wasn't actually authorized to do it."

"Oh, God, I knew it. You're not even a Fed, are you?"

Archer's sensual lips curved into a triumphant smile. "Not anymore.

I was on suspension during my investigation of Farra's Fortunes. When I

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brought those thugs in, they reinstated me, but I decided to give my two weeks notice."

"Why?" Miranda asked incredulously.

"I found that I much preferred to uncover the seedy underbelly of

small towns like Elmhaven, rather than go for the gold with all of those competitive assholes up at headquarters. So I'm branching out on my

own." He handed her a card.

Matthew Archer, Private Investigator.

Elmhaven, MA.

Miranda's heart skipped a beat.

"I'll be able to use a bit more of my, err…
unorthodox
methods as a P.I., anyway."

"Would those methods include seduction of your suspects?"

He hauled her over to him, bathrobe and all. "Only if they're very

lucky."

Miranda gave him a pseudo-playful punch. "You're so damn full of

yourself."

"So I am," he said. "How about you reform me over a dinner date?"

She wrinkled her nose in response. She wouldn't mind giving

Archer another chance, but after all that excitement, dinner and a movie just seemed so…Elmhaven.

"Okay, then. I've got a stakeout tonight. You interested?"

Miranda flung her arms around his neck, grinning as she leaned in

to whisper in his ear. "I'll bring the donuts."

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About the Authors

A life-long martial arts enthusiast,
Bianca D'Arc
enjoys a number of hobbies and interests that keep her busy and entertained such as playing the guitar, shopping, painting, shopping, skiing, shopping, road trips, and did we say shopping? A bargain hunter through and through, Bianca

loves the thrill of the hunt for that excellent price on quality items,

though she's hardly a fashionista. She likes nothing better than curling up by the fire with a good book, or better yet, by the computer, writing a

good book. Learn more about Bianca D'Arc and her books at

biancadarc.com. Read Bianca's blog at: http://biancadarc.blogspot.com.

Always an artist,
Eva Gale
started writing to keep her sanity and instead found her life's passion. She loves thinking up characters and can get

happily lost in endless hours of research. Along with other erotic

romance stories, she is currently working on a full-length historical