Not the Marrying Kind (Destiny Bay Romances - Forever Yours) (25 page)

“Shelley…”

Now he was just as angry as she was.
 
She found the rest of her clothes and her shoes and she made her way to the door.

“Shelley, wait.
 
Don’t go like this.”

“I’m going.
 
You can’t stop me.”

“Then wait a minute.
 
Let me get dressed.
 
I’ll drive you.”

“Don’t bother.
 
I have a cousin who lives just down the block.”
 
She flashed him a glare.
 
“I can take care of myself, Michael Hudson.
 
I don’t need you, no matter what you think.”

“
I’m a Carrington
,” she thought to herself defiantly.
 
“
About time I learned to act like one.”

And she was gone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
 

All Fall Down
 

It was over.
 
So over.
 

As far as Shelley knew, Michael was gone, off to Florida, never to be seen in Destiny Bay again.
 
That first day she’d cried all night and then headed to the ocean for a freezing sunrise swim to clean the pain and sorrow out of her system.
 
It didn’t work, but it did make her feel as though she’d done something harsh and serious to get rid of the way she felt about Michael.
 
It was a beginning.
 
It would just take time.
 

She heard from Robin.
 
It looked like her reunion with Jim was going swimmingly.
 
At least someone was having romantic success.
 
She was pretty sure that sort of thing was not in the cards for her.
 
Not ever.

But it didn’t matter.
 
She was ready for it.
 
She’d always thought that might be how she would end up—alone.
 
Michael had been her one real chance to break out of that mold, and now it had all gone wrong.
 
She should have known it would.
 
She could take it.
 
If only this black cloud that seemed to be lurking over her head would clear away.
 

But never mind.
 
She had been concentrating on her career for years.
 
Why should a little blip on the radar, a little fling with a magic man, stop that in its tracks?
 
No reason at all.
 
She was too serious about her work for that sort of thing to stick.
 

The only thing was, she was beginning to wonder if her career plans might not need a bit of adjusting.
 
Knowing Michael had made a change in her attitude.
 
She made a few calls.
 
Picked up a few packets of information.
 
And began to study the possibilities of getting into law enforcement.
 

Why not?
 
Michael had just been kidding when he’d teased her about trying his work for real.
 
But it had started her thinking.
 
There was a lot of room for good psychologists in criminology.
 
And she’d already had a taste of what that sort of thing might entail.
 
Now that she’d had the adrenalin rush, now that she’d seen what it was like to work with an expert in the field, she thought she might actually be good at it.
 
It would certainly be more exciting than what she’d been doing.
 
Maybe Michael had something when he reached for the interesting elements.
 
Maybe she ought to take a tip from him and give it a try.
 

All that was okay for her days.
 
It was the nights that were going to kill her.
 
It was the long sobbing bouts with a pillow and the wide-awake midnights and the memories—ah, those memories!
 
She had to find a way to erase them or she was going to go mad!

In the midst of all that, late in the evening, she got a call from her cousin Grant’s wife, Carrie.
 

“Shelley, I just thought you ought to know.
 
The babies are coming!”

“What?”
 
Shelley’s pulse soared.
 
“Your baby?
 
Janet’s?”
 

“No, Jennifer’s twins.
 
She’s at the hospital.”

Shelley tried to stay calm.
 
It was all so confusing.
 
All three of the women married to the Richard Carrington branch cousins were pregnant and due at roughly the same time.
 
But Jennifer, married to Reid, was the only one having twins.
 
It made sense that they might come first.
 

“I’ll be right there,” she told Carrie.
 

“Good,” Carrie told her.
 
“Because I’m starting to have a few twinges myself.
 
I could use another hand to hold.”

Shelley ran down to the carport and hopped into her car, prepared to start off toward the hospital.
 
She wished she could call Michael.
 
She wished he would come to the hospital, too.
 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided herself.
 
“He’s long gone.
 
Besides, he wouldn’t care.
 
What are babies to a man like that?”

Something caught in her throat and she felt tears threatening, but she blinked them away.
 
This was going to be a wonderful night for the Carrington family.
 
She wasn’t going to let sadness get in the way.
 
It was time for celebration.
 

Michael walked down the dark, empty street toward the marina.
 
The moon was riding high, strewing a golden reflection in a path across the inky water.
 
He was supposed to be on a flight to Florida right now, but something was keeping him here in Destiny Bay, something that nagged at him.
 
It was more than just pure instinct that told him something was going to go down tonight, and that he’d better be there.
 

He could see Mickey’s cafe on the corner.
 
The windows were dark.
 
The place had been closed all week, ever since Mickey had disappeared and Tag’s yacht had left its home in the bay.
 

He kept walking, heading for the marina.
 
At the end of the pier, he could see the dark figure of a man in an overcoat.
 
His gut feeling sharpened.
 
He was pretty sure he knew who that was going to be.
 

In fact, he’d been looking into some obscure records and listings ever since he’d heard the story of the supposed bridal kidnapping that had taken Mickey away.
 
Something about that story had appealed to his imagination.
 
He’d done some research.
 
And what he’d found had confirmed his suspicions.
 

Mickey had been about to marry Robert Harding.
 
Michael had found out a bit of the man’s background, and it wasn’t such a rosy picture.
 
He was in banking, and in finance, and yes, he was rich, but he also had some gangland ties that looked questionable.
 
And from all accounts, he was furious that Tag had taken his bride-to-be away.
 
This had all the ingredients for a resolution that was going to come down in an ugly way—elements that set his antennae quivering, and his instincts were usually spot on.
 
So he’d stayed behind, looking into possibilities.
 

This was the second night he’d come down here, searching for answers, and this time it seemed he’d come up with a bit of pay dirt.
 
He’d spent some time at the station, chatting up his friends there, and he’d dug up some interesting information.
 
It seemed authorities had been monitoring Tag’s itinerary and it looked like the yacht was due back late tonight.

 
He’d never met Robert Harding, but he would bet dollars to doughnuts that was him standing out on the pier, watching for a yacht to come cruising into the harbor.
 
An unholy welcoming committee.
 
Was he hoping to talk Mickey into coming back to him?
 
Or was he waiting to exact a measure of revenge?
 
Something told him the latter was the more likely outcome.
 

Walking quietly, staying in the shadows, he got pretty far down the pier without any indication that the man had noticed his approach.
 

“Hey Robert,” he called ahead, testing.
 

“Yeah?”
 
The man turned, his right hand going reflexively to the inside of his coat before it relaxed and fell back to his side.
 
So now Michael knew two things: who the man was and where he had his weapon.
   

“Who’s that?” he asked gruffly, peering into the gloom.
 
“What do you want?”

Michael stepped into the light and nodded coolly, staying loose.
 
“Hudson’s the name,” he said crisply, pulling out the badge he wasn’t officially authorized to carry and flashing it at him.
 
It had come in handy a few times and now it might work for him again.
 
“You Robert Harding?”

“Why?”

Michael stopped a few feet away.
 
“Because of Tag Carrington and Mickey Adams.”

He stiffened.
 
“What about them?”

Michael stayed cool, loose and in control.
 
He also stayed silent for a long moment, letting Robert wonder awhile longer, giving him a chance to let his nerves begin to undermine his confidence.
 

“Well?”
 
Robert barked out.
 
“What about them?”

Michael drew in a long, audible breath before speaking.
 
“There’s been a request made that you be dissuaded from harassing them.
 
And I’m here to enforce it.”

“What the…?”
 
Outrage was brimming from his tone.
 

“This marina is private property, Mr. Harding.
 
I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

His hand made a move toward his weapon again, but he balled it into a fist and stopped himself.
 
“Did the Carringtons put you up to this?
 
Of course they did.
 
Why do I bother asking?”

Michael could almost feel the suppressed rage in the man.
 

“You can try to sue them in the morning,” he suggested pleasantly.
 
“In the meantime, you’re going to have to go.”

He stood still with legs fairly wide and his suit jacket swinging open, allowing Robert a quick look at the glock he wore in his shoulder holster.
 
The man’s head went back and his eyes narrowed.
 
He hesitated, looking as though he was going to challenge the situation.
 
But he thought twice, pressed his lips together, and nodded slowly.
 

“Sure,” he said, his voice a sneer.
 
“Why not?
 
The Carringtons always get their way, don’t they?”
 
With a mirthless chuckle, he began to saunter back toward the shore.
 

Michael watched him go for a moment, then the flash of a light drew his attention to the mouth of the bay.
 
A yacht was coming in.
 
Tag and Mickey?
 
Could be.
 

He looked back at the path up toward the parking lot.
 
He didn’t see Robert on it.
 
He frowned.
 
He couldn’t have made it all the way up the hill that fast.
 

He was still somewhere in the marina, probably on one of the vacant boats that sat side by side all around him.
 
Just like that, he’d lost him.
 

Michael swore softly, called himself a name for stupidity, and pulled out his cell.
 
The timing wasn’t all that good.
 
He needed back up.
 
Good old Sam was home and hopefully he hadn’t gone to bed.
 
If he had, he was going to have to climb back out again and make some phone calls, because Michael wasn’t going to be able to handle this all on his own.
 

Shelley looked to the heavens in exasperation.
 
Was she cursed or something?
 
She could hardly believe this.
 
Nothing but bad luck.
 
It was almost midnight and here she was, walking the streets of Destiny Bay, trying to get to the hospital.
 

She’d gone down to the carport below her apartment right after Carrie called.
 
Jumping into her car, she’d been ready to rush on over.
 
She turned the key, and nothing happened.
 

It had to be her battery.
 
She’d known it was getting sluggish.
 
She should have taken the car in.
 
But she hadn’t.
 
So there she was, stuck.
 
It was too late at night to knock on the doors of any friends in the building.
 
It was also too late to call a friend on the phone.
 
Pulling out her cell, she tried a triple A station.
 

“Hey, this is Joe at the Dune Beach station.
 
We’re all out on calls right now, helping stranded motorists just like you.
 
Leave your name and number and we’ll get back to you as soon as we are in.”