Married by Monday (Weekday Brides) (15 page)

“
And there’s no arguing with you.”

“
Few have even tried.”

Eliza laughed. “I’ll bet.”

Chapter Eleven

Carter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the text message from Neil that said only one word.

Done!

Although the information Jay was telling him about the latest polls was important, the room around him faded as Carter’s thoughts turned to Eliza. Her house was secure and she wasn’t alone. Not that Gwen would offer much in the way of protection. At least Eliza had company when he couldn’t be there.

The night before when he’d dropped her off, he didn’t want to leave. He had walked around her home making sure there wasn’t anyone lurking in the shadows and hadn’t said a thing. Her arms had been crossed over her chest in an obvious sign of “leave me alone.” Carter took the hint and moved along.

“
Did you hear me?” Jay asked.

Carter shook his head, “I’m sorry. I’m distracted.”

“
That’s obvious,” Jay scowled and tossed his pad and paper aside. “What the hell is up with you lately?”

Carter rolled his head from one side of his neck to the other, all the while searching for the answer Jay wanted. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“
Which is obvious to me and the voting public. Care to share so I can fix your problems and we can move on?”

“
You can’t fix my problems, Jay.”

“
The hell I can’t. That’s what you hired me for. I find your problems before they submerge from the depths of the Atlantic. So what is it? Family? A woman? What?”

Jay was the best. He’d been in Carter’s employ for a few years. Started out as an assistant and worked his way to campaign manager. Jay had earned Carter’s trust when two years ago Carter’s uncle, Senator Maxwell Hammond, decided to pay an unexpected visit to Carter’s office unannounced.

Jay recognized the senator on sight, but when the man announced he was Carter’s uncle, Jay thanked the man for the introduction and then asked if he had an appointment.

Carter wished he’d seen the old man’s face when Jay slighted him with the question. Maxwell should have been a five-star general in a former life. He commanded attention when he walked in a room, and seldom did anyone question his authority.

Jay questioned.

As Jay had assumed, the unexpected and unwanted visit from his uncle took a minute to absorb. Carter considered himself adaptable, but Uncle Max was the self ordained patriarch of Carter’s family and a first class son-of-a-bitch if there ever was one.

Jay managed to divert Max until Carter figured out why Max had sought him out.

Carter and Jay worked franticly, searching Carter’s cases with Max’s colleagues and friends. Sure enough, a son of a diplomat was due to appear in Carter’s court within the week. Prepared for the
suggestion
from his uncle, Carter met him for drinks that night at the hotel where his uncle was staying. There was small talk. A few, “How is the family doing?” questions, and then Max proceeded to try to bend Carter’s decision to Max’s will. Max smoothed the collar of his perfectly tailored suit jacket along his chest. The man was fit, barely carrying an extra pound around his belly, but the years in office were catching up with him. Streaks of gray peppered his brown hair. He was blessed with good looks and charisma, the two things money couldn’t buy in politics.

“
I understand one of the Prescott boys is going to be in your court next week. Some kind of domestic issue.”

“
Is that so?” Carter lifted his drink to his lips, completely prepared for what was coming next.

“
Kids make mistakes.”

Not this one. Joe Prescott II was one spoiled bastard who had managed to escape justice for every misdeed he’d been guilty of since his teens. At twenty-three, the rape and physical evidence the prosecution had on Joe’s crimes should wipe the perpetual smirk of the kid’s face for a long time. Although Carter had yet to hear the case, the eyewitness testimony and physical evidence was apparently ironclad.

The evidence was what every cop wanted, and what every lawyer loved. As a judge, it made his job easy.

Joe had waved a jury trial in hopes of bribing the judge.

Carter hoped the police didn’t screw something up, and testimony or evidence wouldn’t have to be thrown out. Shitheads like Joe and his political friends needed to understand that some judges didn’t sell out. No matter who asked.

“
Baseballs breaking windows are accidents. Tying defenseless women up and assaulting them…not so much.”

Max took of a swig of his drink. “The girl is unreliable. From a bad family.”

“
That makes it okay?”

“
Don’t be stupid. Prescott is a good kid. He’s changed.”

Carter sat back in his chair and watched the unease from his Uncle. He couldn’t help but smile and enjoy his moment of uncertainty.

“
Prescott gives everyone with a ‘Y’ chromosome a bad name.”

Max’s glass hit the counter with a thud. “The case needs to go away.”

“
To protect your political dollars?”

“
Make it happen.”

The last thing Carter wanted was more politicians like his uncle running the country. Knowing his Uncle Max like he did, Carter said little more about the case and was determined to do all he could to send Joe to jail.

Less than a week later, Joe Prescott II was found guilty beyond reasonable doubt and had his own escort to the state penitentiary where he should have had plenty of time to contemplate his misguided life.

Should have.

Max never spoke of the trial, never spoke of the case. However, after only fifteen months in prison, an executive pardon exempted everything Joe Prescott did and set him free.

Carter was livid. He knew what happened. He knew the ties Uncle Max had pulled to set the kid free.

“
Well? Is it Eliza?”

Jay’s question snapped Carter out of his past memories and to the present.

“
Why would you ask that?”

“
She’s beautiful. An easy distraction.”

That she was. Even though Carter trusted Jay, he wouldn’t reveal any of his true concerns when it came to Eliza. “I had a life before I decided to run for Governor.”

Jay tossed his head back and laughed. “No, you didn’t. I was there, remember?”

“
Just because it wasn’t displayed for your eyes, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”

“
Don’t give me that crap. Dating and an occasional toss don’t constitute a love life. And outside of your job you didn’t do squat. You’ve made this job a cake walk up until that stunt in the cowboy parking lot.”

The cowboy parking lot had mucked up his momentum and helped his rivals take the lead. If only Eliza would agree to marry him. Then he could keep an eye on her and make the good citizens of California see that he was the right person for the job.

“
Is this distraction of yours going to keep you from the luncheon in Chicago tomorrow?

“
No.” Lunch in Chicago to raise funds tomorrow, San Francisco the next night. How in the world was he supposed to snag a wife—no make that...snag Eliza—when he was jet-setting all over the country?

And what if someone was watching her?

What if the dirt-bag responsible for her parents’ deaths wanted to speed up Eliza’s date with death? A familiar burn in his stomach started to warm his insides. “Remind me again…who are Montgomery’s supporters?”

While Jay rattled off the Governor of Illinois’s allies in congress, Carter did his best to not think of Eliza and the four legged furry friend protecting her when Carter couldn’t be by her side.

****

“
For a police dog…” Eliza waved three inch high heel at Zod while she yelled. “You sure have a thing or two to learn about manners!”

Zod tilted his head to the side and continued to pant. Not an ounce of guilt marred the dog’s expression.

Eliza eyed the puncture marks in the heel and felt her blood pressure soar all over again. She had a half a mind to send Jim and Dean a bill.

The front door to her home opened and a calm female voice announced the breach into the interior of the home as if it were a flight arriving on time at O’Hare.
Front door!
Equally annoying was the back sliding door opening, or a window being opened. Only when the system was armed would an actual alarm blaze a siren that would wake the neighborhood.

It was overkill. All of it. “Bad dog,” Eliza scolded one last time before dumping the shoe on the counter.

Gwen sailed into the kitchen with a garment bag in her arms. “I thought I heard you in here.” Gwen wore the perfect smile, under the perfect nose, without one hair out of place. Eliza was sure that the girls Gwen had gone to school with probably hated her for her perfection.

“
I’m telling Cujo here to lay off the shoes.”

Gwen set her bag down and wagged a finger in Zod’s direction. “Are you misbehaving?”

Zod’s tongue rolled out of his mouth as his big brown eyes glanced between the two of them.

“
I’ll give the dog points for taste. He only eats expensive. My guess is his original owner was a man.”

“
Why do you say that?”

“
He hasn’t touched my running shoes.”

“
Perhaps he needs more exercise,” Gwen said. “Our dogs back home run the grounds of Albany and seldom sit inside.”

Albany was Gwen’s family estate. Eliza had been there on occasion to celebrate with Blake and Samantha. Gwen’s idea of a yard was hundreds of acres of land. Eliza’s postage stamp back yard didn’t compare.

“
I’m still not sure why you’d want to live here and not the virtual palace you grew up in.” Eliza picked up the ruined shoe and plunked it in the trash.

Zod stared. It was as if the dog knew he could take you out and didn’t give a rat’s rear end that he messed with your stuff.

“
There is more to life than a big home.”

“
Big homes don’t suck.” Eliza loved Samantha’s Malibu estate. The views, the pool. The kitchen was even tempting although Eliza’s idea of cooking consisted of a microwave and a toaster oven. She always said that if she had a “cook’s kitchen” she’d learn how to bake a pie.

“
I’ve had luxuries my entire life, and though I appreciated them, I know I took them for granted. For once I’d like to earn my own way.”

Eliza laughed. “You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten dehydrated noodle soup for lunch and dinner.”

A look of horror passed over Gwen’s face. “That sounds ghastly.”

“
Be careful what you wish for, Gwen. I’ve had next to nothing, and it’s less than fun. I can see how earning your own way might sound enlightening to you. For the rest of us, it’s old fashion hard work.”

“
I’m not afraid of hard work,” Gwen defended herself.

“
I’m happy to hear that. We have a mixer we’re attending tonight. Fancy ordeal at The Royal Suites in Beverly Hills. Very upscale. The kind of thing you should fit in quite well with.”

Gwen flashed a smile and lifted her chin. “I’ll be eager to learn what you and Samantha do.”

Eliza heard a muffled sound behind her and noticed Zod inching toward the back door and another pair of forgotten heels.

She yelled at the dog to stop in German, and then picked up her shoes.

“
I find it hard to believe that Zod will ignore beef, but eat shoes.”

“
We might not want to tell anyone his weakness, or we might find a shoe salesmen ransacking the house.”

Chapter Twelve

The mixer was black tie and formal gowns, the kind of affair Eliza endured but didn’t love.

The fake smiles and meaningless endearments rolled off the tongues of the attendees like cheap lines at a beer bar. “Nice to see you again… Don’t you look lovely… What a smashing gown…”

Who in the real world used a word like
smashing
?

Uptight, rich yuppies who managed to invest their trust funds and make money, that’s who.

The first time Samantha had brought Eliza to one of these functions to work the room, prospecting for clients and the women willing to marry them, Eliza nearly tripped on her formal gown. Back then, she couldn’t talk current affairs of the rich and connected. Gwen however was a natural. A daughter of a duke who understood the rich better than Eliza ever would, Gwen veered away from Eliza as soon as they left their coats with the doorman.

Eliza kept a glass of wine in her hands and managed one sip. She didn’t drink at these functions, but always kept a glass in her hand. A salesman might try to work the room as an outsider, she didn’t play that way. She tried obtaining the trust of her clients by acting as one of them.

Thus far, her strategy had worked.

No one guessed she had a compact nine-millimeter strapped to her thigh. At affairs like this one, a purse would be cumbersome and leaving a firearm unattended was never smart. There had been many events in the past year where she left her gun at home. Thanks to Dean and Jim, she didn’t feel as if she could do that, anymore.