Before The Fall, Page 2

  “I’m not sure.”

  “But you can make an educated guess.”

  She debated the wisdom of telling him, then figured sharing something as simple as a name and a little background couldn’t hurt in case something went awry. “Joey Mariscano.”

  “Who?”

  “A businessman from out of town who paid me a visit a while back. He suggested it would be in my best interests to let him and his ‘associates’ buy into Here Comes the Bride. I suggested he take the first plane back to Chicago. He wasn’t happy with my refusal, intimated I would regret my decision. At the time, I figured he meant I’d regret turning down bigger profits.”

  “You never said anything to me about this.”

  “It happened before we met. Several weeks, I think.” And they’d been seeing each other for more than three months. “I guess that’s why I didn’t think of him right away.”

  Douglas swirled his brandy. “What do you guess he wanted exactly?”

  “I’m not certain, but my father had been paroled a short while before. Maybe Mariscano assumed Father had taken more than a passing—and legal—interest in the family business. I suppose he figured he would do well to get in on the action while I was still in charge.”

  Not that she would ever let her father near Here Comes the Bride.

  After Tomas Dragonetti had been incarcerated—his business interests, property and investments all confiscated by the government—his wife had needed to find a means of support for her three children. Quiet, delicate Sylvie Dragonetti had sold off property she’d inherited from her parents and had used the money to start a bridal-wear shop. As the wedding capital of the world, Las Vegas couldn’t have too many of those.

  Angela had been fifteen at the time, Benedict seventeen, while Petra had been nine—only a kid. Angela and Benedict had protected Petra from the ugly truth as best they could. They’d also worked alongside their mother every chance they had.

  What else did they have to do with their free time after everyone they knew deserted them because of their father?

  Ostracized and humiliated, Angela had vowed that someday she’d show the world the stuff of which she was made. She’d also sworn never to trust anyone but her mother and siblings and had devoted herself to them and the company. After college, even knowing he’d wanted to turn his end of the business over to her and find a niche for himself in computer software, she’d

  sucked Benedict into helping her expand. Over the past decade, one bridal shop had become three. After which, they’d built their own wedding chapel. Started their own limousine service. Bought out a successful flower shop, which Petra now ran. Then, two years ago, Benedict finally left Here Comes the Bride for new challenges that were his own rather than hers.

  And Angela had been left in a position of sole control…which included taking responsibility if anything went wrong. Now she was facing the possibility of going to jail for something about which she hadn’t had a clue.

  How could this have happened to her?

  Douglas intruded on her thoughts. “Have you told anyone else about Mariscano?”

  “Not yet,” she hedged, hoping he would believe she meant to.

  “You should get Jenkins’s investigator on it.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  But Angela wasn’t planning on involving anyone else in this investigation if she didn’t have to. Certain she could manipulate Mariscano into spilling his guts if only she had the opportunity, Angela was plotting a face-toface meeting with the rat—as soon as possible. At the moment, only Douglas stood in her way.

  Yawning, she said, “About that nap…”

  He stroked her hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t mind holding you in my arms until you fall asleep.”

  Considering the disastrous state of her life at the moment, Angela wasn’t about to start a new phase in their relationship. Nor would she let herself be distracted from her purpose. “I’d rather be alone, if you don’t mind.”

  He did mind. His expression told her so. But Douglas was a true gentleman. He pretended he didn’t and left without a fuss, promising to call her promptly at noon the next day. She smiled and murmured noon would be fine, all the time knowing that she wouldn’t be available.

  She’d already be in Chicago.

  Making haste to pack an overnight bag, Angela tried not to dwell on the fact that by crossing the state line, she would knowingly break the law.

  OBLIVIOUS to the impending dawn, Micah Kaminsky stretched out on his bed and groaned in ecstasy. Finally he was going to get some much-needed rest, delayed by his latest job. The badly worn mattress might have lost some of its spring, but Micah was tired enough for it to feel like he was floating on a cloud. He was fast zeroing in on the twilight zone when the telephone shattered the silence and jarred his eyes open. Muttering a curse, he pulled a pillow over his head and let the damn thing ring.

  Eventually, the answering machine would pick up….

  Only it didn’t.

  And the telephone refused to shut up.

  Irritated, he grabbed the receiver and growled, “This better be important!”

  “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be bothering you.”

  Immediately recognizing the voice, Micah made an attempt to concentrate as the man on the other end called in a long-overdue favor.

  “She goes by ‘Angela Dragon,’“ the man continued, “though she used some alias to book her flight. She’s on her way to Chicago now.”

  “Jumped bail, huh? Not too bright.”

  “Don’t underestimate her, Kaminsky. She’s damned smart and she’ll fight you tooth and nail. Do whatever is necessary to get her back to Las Vegas pronto. Agreed?”

  “Done. We both know I’m in your debt.”

  “This’ll square things between us.”

  Good. Micah hated owing anyone anything. Listening to a detailed description of the woman in addition to other pertinent information, he forced himself back up to his feet, his only regret having to abandon the siren song of his bed yet again. Stretching, he smothered a yawn. A pot of coffee would be in order before leaving for the airport to intercept the woman. He needed a clear head. Not that he felt especially challenged by the assignment.

  Compared to the jobs he’d executed lately, getting a headstrong woman back where she belonged would be a piece of cake.

  NOON CAME AND WENT before Angela pulled the rental car in to the McCormick Place parking lot. She couldn’t stop peering over her shoulder.

  Though she hoped she’d been imagining it—courtesy of a guilty conscience over leaving Nevada illegally—she’d had the weirdest sensation of being followed, first from the airport to Mariscano’s home, then from the North Shore suburb to the convention complex. Every so often, in her rearview window, she’d gotten sight of an older-model dark coupe cruising some distance behind. There was a good probability that she’d actually spotted several different cars similar in style, but she hadn’t wanted to take any chances. She’d done some fancy driving and had gone miles out of her way to lose any possible tail.

  Her paranoia taking up enough time so that she’d missed Joey Mariscano by minutes.

  A fair acting job on her part convinced the housekeeper that she had important business with the man.

  The woman had acknowledged that her employer wouldn’t be home all day—he was escorting his newly engaged daughter DeeDee to a bridal exposition.

  So here she was, home away from home. She couldn’t count the number of similar showings she’d attended for new ideas and products over the years. She’d even been to this particular event more than once in the past few years and was personally acquainted with several of the major vendors.

  As she started to proceed to the center on foot, a flash from the corner of her eye prompted her to glance around the parking lot. A midnight blue car pulled in to a vacant spot in the next row. The same vehicle that she’d imagined had been following her? She hesitated, waiting to see who got out, but the driver didn�
��t seem to be in any hurry to leave the car. Shaking away her trepidation, she started off, alert to the possibility of trouble. But none materialized.

  Inside, the crowded lobby rang with excited female voices and seventies music played by a DJ for hire. Once equipped with an official pass, Angela wondered where to start. She couldn’t feature Joey Mariscano scouring the vendor area, where booth aisles were choked with thousands of women pawing over naughty lingerie, devouring tidbits from various caterers or comparing travel agents for the best honeymoon package.

  Checking the special-events list, she noted that a bridal fashion show featuring several exclusive designers would begin in half an hour. This particular event meant primarily for buyers wasn’t generally open to the public, though an individual with clout could obtain a pass.

  And she’d bet anything Joey Mariscano had clout.

  As she was about to follow her instincts, a prickling sensation at the back of her neck made her hesitate. Had the shady businessman found her first? Tightening her jaw, Angela lifted her chin and turned around.

  The man who was staring at her from a distance was definitely not Joey Mariscano. At least, she thought he was staring. Hard to tell what those eyes were doing on the other side of his mirrored sunglasses.

  As for the rest of him, all six feet plus was on alert, though he was evidently trying for a casual pose, shoulder wedged against a pillar. The deep blue T-shirt that showed off his impressive musculature was a bit casual for the event. And beard stubbled his strong jawline, while golden brown hair too long to be in vogue splayed across his high forehead and broad cheeks. His rumpled appearance suggested that he’d just gotten out of bed.

  And perhaps he had, she thought, flushing.

  Figuring he was a flirtatious bridegroom-to-be, Angela took pity on the woman who would marry him, shook off the odd feeling he aroused in her and rushed toward the hall set up for the fashion show. Flashing her pass, she stepped inside. Nearly full already.

  How would she ever find the man she was pursuing?

  Logic told her he would command one of the best seats in the house, as close as possible to the merchandise. Her gaze traveled along the temporary runway…stopping at a broad back covered by a navy blue suit that might be expensive but that was also a half size too small. She’d recognize that chunky body anywhere. And he was talking with both ring-bedecked hands waving.

  Joey Mariscano’s size hadn’t changed…nor his vanity.

  Smiling, Angela murmured, “Gotcha!” then appraised the situation and impetuously formulated a daring plan.

  “LISTEN, DARLING, my lady is one of the models,” Micah smoothly lied to the pretty young redhead at the door.

  “She should have given you a pass.”

  He cocked his sunglasses up into his hair and crinkled his eyes at her. For some reason, women always responded well to that.

  “She was supposed to leave me a pass, but we got up late. Know what I mean? She was in such a hurry to get out of the apartment that she plumb forgot….”

  “Uh, I suppose it won’t hurt anything….” Color creeping into her cheeks, the young woman looked around as if to make certain they weren’t being watched. “Go on in. Hurry.”

  Micah didn’t waste any time. He slipped into a seat at the back of the hall and scanned the room for a brunette in a bloodred suit with black trim.

  He’d been told Angela Dragon was a looker. No exaggeration there, he thought, reflecting on the woman he’d just caught sight of at the airport. Slightly tilted almond-shaped dark eyes. Narrow nose, high cheekbones and hollow cheeks framed by lush dark hair. Lips full enough to tempt a man. And with those long, long legs and waist small enough to encircle with his hands, she really could be a model.

  Angela Dragon would stand out in any crowd…only…not this one.

  For, try as he might, he couldn’t place her. Worried that this time she really had lost him—she’d driven erratically all morning as if she’d had reason to suspect she was being followed—he cursed to himself. He should have snatched her from Mariscano’s property, no matter that the elderly woman next door was paying closer attention to Angela’s doings than to her gardening.

  He hadn’t wanted any witnesses. No need to call attention to his actions. He’d meant to wait to get her alone…but now he worried that she’d given him the slip and he might not get her at all.

  Thinking about the possibility of having to admit failure made him wince inside.

  “VIDA, YOU’RE A LOVE. I’ll never forget you for this,” Angela told the designer whose line of bridal fashions sold like hotcakes for Here Comes the Bride.

  The other woman clucked to herself as she fussed with the material. “I still really don’t understand why you want to do this.”

  Angela hadn’t been too specific. She’d merely asked for the favor and had said it was important to her.

  “All right,” she said. “To give a certain man in the audience the surprise of his life.”

  Wasn’t that the truth!

  A knowing expression softened Vida’s exotic Eastern European features. “Ah, the light dawns.” She tapped her forehead with her palm. “I am so stupid. No, he is the stupid one for not marrying you already.”

  Cringing inside at her deception, promising herself she’d make it all up to the designer later, Angela hugged the smaller woman. “Thank you.”

  “No need for thanks. Such a romantic gesture makes my heart flutter,” Vida said with her usual drama. “Why else would I be in this business?”

  “Why else, indeed?” Angela echoed, her realistic nature silently answering For the money, of course.

  “When your lover sees you looking so radiant, how will he resist proposing?”

  “He’d better not resist me,” Angela murmured as she turned to the mirror for a final check. She couldn’t wait to see Joey Mariscano’s face when he recognized her.

  Hardly recognizing herself, she stared in surprise. Flushed with excitement, she looked exactly like a radiant bride in a cream-colored creation embellished with handmade lace, silk rosebuds, Austrian crystals and seed pearls. The full bustle and train added to the cut of the garment emphasized the smallness of her waist and the fullness of her breasts.

  And the matching lace veil secured with several large bobby pins to the loose dark curls gathered at the top of her head—hair tamed courtesy of Vida’s stylist, despite the wretched Midwestern humidity—would hide her features until it was too late for the crook to make his getaway.

  NERVES STRUCK HER as Angela stepped onto the runway and into view of the crowd. But the “oohs” and “aahs” of the audience reassured her. They were concentrating on the dress. Not on her. No one suspected a thing.

  She swept down the length of the runway even as she’d seen it done thousands of times. The classical music beneath the announcer’s voice helped keep her calm. Passing the model making her way back, Angela twirled gracefully, glad the only pair of available heels they could find to fit her were far lower than her own. She needed to keep her equilibrium, she thought, stopping directly in front of Joey Mariscano and his daughter—a pretty young thing, her hopes for the future reflected in her beaming smile.

  Angela swallowed hard. Poor DeeDee. Her day was about to be ruined…if not her image of her father. She certainly could empathize.

  Through the veil’s lace she stared at Mariscano with his dyed-black hair and full jowls. He wasn’t even looking at her. The focus of his attention, his daughter wore almost as much gold jewelry as the father.

  Angela gritted her teeth at the crook’s loving expression for his child…the same as she’d seen on her own father’s face.

  Distracted, she lost her momentum. But only for a moment. Then she finished her tour of the stage and stepped down into the audience, where other models were gliding along various aisles, giving buyers a closer look at the goods.

  The audience’s attention shifted to the next model, and Angela went straight for her target. She stopped directly in
front of him, blocking his view of the stage.

  “Joey, we need to talk.” She lifted the veil. “In private.”

  She saw instant recognition flare in his eyes before he covered it with a mask of polite confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “Daddy, who is this woman?”

  “No one, sweetheart.” Expression blank, he said, “You mistake me for someone else. We’re here to find a dress for my daughter’s wedding.”

  Angela turned this way and that, pretending to be modeling for an interested customer. “And I’m here to clear up a few things between us.”

  The daughter gasped. “She isn’t one of your women, for heaven’s sake, is she? You’re not going to invite her to the wedding, are you?”

  “She’s no one—”

  Angela bristled. “My name is Angela Dragon.” Lifting an eyebrow, she gave Mariscano a haughty glare. “Not exactly no one.”

  She forgot what she’d been about to say when a hulking form rose behind father and daughter. Broad as a bear, he appeared equally mean, the corner of one narrowed eye distorted by a nasty scar. His lips thinned in an imitation of a smile.

  “Mr. Mariscano, you want I should take care of this situation for you?” he growled.

  “I am not a situation,” Angela countered.

  “No. Sit, Adolpho.”

  His grimace telegraphing his disappointment, Adolpho sat on command. A well-trained bear, Angela decided, noting that heads were turning in their direction and that Mariscano seemed a bit uneasy. Good for her.

  “As for you, Miss…uh, Dragon, is it?…if you wanna talk to me, call my office for an appointment.” He held out his card. “Tell my secretary I said to find some time for you.”

  She ignored the card. “Time is exactly what I don’t have…as you well know.” At least, she was pretty certain he did, Angela thought, hoping she wasn’t making a fool of herself. What if Mariscano really didn’t know anything? For a moment she wavered. Better a fool than convicted without trying to clear her name, she thought. Aware of the interest of patrons around them, she said, “We need to talk now. I suggest we step out into the hall.”