The Marriage Profile

Did Justin know? Had he followed her career as she had followed his?

Probably not, she conceded. Why should he when he’d made it plain that he never wanted to see her again the day she’d told him she was leaving. Angela whooshed out a breath as she recalled how angry he’d been. She’d hurt him. Or perhaps it had been his pride that she’d hurt. She’d never been quite sure. All she had known was that Justin wasn’t a man used to failing at anything, and by choosing her as his wife, he’d failed big time. He certainly wasn’t going to be happy to have her showing up on his turf now. And he was going to be even more unhappy when he found out the reason why.

“Sorry about that,” Ricky said as he rejoined her. “You see what I mean about Pop being different?”

“He did seem distracted.”

“For a while after my mother died, he sort of shut down. You know, just didn’t seem to care about anything. But then he started making noises about how maybe Frank was right about my sister, that Haley really was alive. And I thought he was better. But now since I got back he’s changed. He’s gotten… I don’t know. Almost secretive.”

“Are you sure?” Angela asked. “He seemed sad, maybe a little lonely and confused, but sometimes that comes with age. He remembered who I was, even that he knew me as a teenager.”

“He’s only sixty,” Ricky pointed out. “But it’s not a memory problem. He remembers well enough. It’s some of the stuff he says. Not all of it makes sense. Like that business about him protecting my mother. She died of a heart attack. How could he have protected her from that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m worried about him, Angela. I can feel Pop slipping away little by little each day. And I’m afraid if I don’t do something soon, one morning I’m going to wake up and find he’s gone over the edge.”

“I know,” Angela replied, and patted his arm.

Ricky shoved a hand through his dark hair, then pinned her with anxious eyes. “You’ve got to help me, Angela. If Haley is alive and Pop’s right about that missing kid being hers, it could make a difference. You need to find that baby.”

“Ricky—”

“Please,” he pleaded when she started to withdraw. “Just hear me out.”

“All right, but I’m not sure there’s anything I can do. I’m here to work up a profile on a kidnapper.”

“You’re here to find that missing little girl.”

Angela neither confirmed nor denied his claim. “What is it you want?”

“When you find her, I want you to let me see her before you call in the authorities.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Angela insisted, taken aback by the request.

“I’m not asking you not to tell the cops you found her, just let me see the kid first.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because since I’ve been back, I’ve been watching my pop die right before my eyes little by little. He needs a reason to go on living. That baby could be it.”

“He has you,” Angela pointed out.

“All I’ve ever been for him is a headache, someone he doesn’t understand. Hell, even I don’t understand me. But Haley…Haley was his favorite. If the rumors are true, if my sister didn’t die in that boating accident and that missing kid is hers, it would make all the difference in the world to Pop. He’d have a grandchild who needed him, a piece of my sister again. He’d have a reason to live again.”

“Ricky, what you’re asking—”

“Is a lot. I know that,” he said, and caught her hands in his. “But I’m desperate, Angela. I’m desperate.”

The weight of Ricky’s plea enveloped her like a shroud, and Angela pulled her fingers free. She wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t make you any promises. I’ll tell you the same thing I told the FBI and the police chief—you shouldn’t pin your hopes on me. Justin Wainwright’s a good sheriff. He’ll have followed every possible lead to find that missing child. So will the Bureau. If they haven’t been able to find her by now, the chances are I won’t be able to find her, either.”

“You’ll find her,” Ricky said with the utmost conviction.

“Ricky, I’m not a miracle worker. I’m a profiler,” she protested.

“We both know you’re more than a profiler. My mama said you had a special gift. Second sight, she called it. You can see things, sense things that other people can’t. Like that time when I was supposed to make that truck run to Mexico and you called me, insisted you had to see me that night. It’s because you knew what was going to happen, didn’t you? Somehow you knew about that crazy hitchhiker, that he was going to kill the person driving the truck that night. That’s why you made sure I canceled the trip. You did it to save me.”

Angela remained silent as the memory of that day six years ago came back to her. She’d seen Ricky in the Mission Creek Café at lunchtime that day, and when he’d given her a hello hug, an image had flashed into her mind’s eye of a dark roadway, of the sign indicating the Mexican border thirty miles away, of the body of a dark-haired man lying beside a truck with a bullet in his temple. When Ricky had told her he was leaving that afternoon for Mexico, she’d panicked. She’d known at once that he was in danger. So she’d called him, made up an excuse that she needed to see him that night after she was off duty and begged him to cancel his trip. And he’d done as she’d asked. Regret washed over her anew as she realized she’d been so caught up in first saving Ricky and then later defending her meeting with Ricky to an angry Justin that she hadn’t thought to ask Ricky if he’d arranged for someone else to take his run. And because she hadn’t asked him, a man had died.

“You used your gift, or whatever you want to call it to save my life that night. Now I’m asking you—begging you—to use your gift again. Only this time use it to save my father’s life by finding that baby.”

Her gift, Ricky had called it. But for as long as she could remember, she’d considered her visions a curse, not a gift. “Marked by the devil” her father had claimed. And she’d believed him, believed she’d deserved to be isolated from her family, to grow up without the love and affection she’d craved. Even Justin, who had claimed to love her, had been uncomfortable when she’d tried to tell him, to explain to him about the visions. And because she’d loved him so desperately and feared losing him, she had gone along with him when he’d chalked up her uncanny knack for knowing things as female intuition. A cop’s instinct. A coincidence. Yet here was Ricky, a man with a questionable reputation and ties to the Texas mafia, a man with whom she’d shared nothing more than friendship, accepting without question that she could see things he didn’t. Know things others wouldn’t. Not only was he accepting it, but he was asking her to use her ability to help him. “I’ll try,” she finally told him. “That’s all I can promise.”

“And that’s all I’m asking.” He pressed a brotherly kiss to her forehead, then suddenly tensed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I just caught sight of your ex heading this way. And judging by his expression, he’s not a happy cowboy.” He stepped back, eyed her closely. “Want me to head him off for you?”

Despite the knot in her stomach, Angela shook her head. “I need to see him sooner or later. It might as well be now.” She paused, wet her lips. “Maybe it would be better if I spoke with him alone first. Would you mind?”

“You sure you want to do that? The man looks mad as hell.”

“I’m sure.”

“All right. I wanted to have a chat with Sal, anyway, see if he knows what’s going on between Pop and Del Brio. But I’m going to keep my eye on you. And if Wainwright starts giving you a hard time, I’m coming back whether you want me to or not.”

“Thanks,” Angela murmured.

Ricky winked at her, then headed to the corner of the room where his father and his cronies were gathered. Bracing herself, Angela turned around and waited for Justin to make his way to her. When he got waylaid by the town’s mayor, she took advantage of the moment to study him. Despite the sedate business suit and neatly combed hair, there was still something untamed about Justin Wainwright, an energy and restlessness about him that made her think of gunslingers and lawmen of the Old West. And blast her foolish heart if just the sight of him didn’t make her pulse quicken now as it had all those years ago.

As though sensing her scrutiny, Justin looked up, locked eyes with hers. Within moments, he was excusing himself from the mayor and heading toward her again. Angela’s heart pounded faster with each step he took. And as he drew nearer, she noted the changes in him—the new lines that creased the corners of his eyes, the hint of gray mixed in with the dark blond hair at his temples. She stared at his mouth, that incredible mouth that had always made her knees go weak when he smiled at her, that had made her skin burn when he’d kissed her, that had whispered promises of love and forever in her ears.

“Hello, Angela,” he said, his voice deadly soft.

“Hello, Jus—”

“You want to tell me just what in the hell you’re doing here?”

Two

Angela sucked in a sharp breath, taken aback by the stinging remark. Determined not to be intimidated, she hiked up her chin. “It’s good to see you again,” she said, and extended her hand.

For a second, something hot flashed in those green eyes before he looked down at her outstretched hand. But when he lifted his gaze to hers, those eyes were as cold as his voice as he said, “Too bad I can’t say the same.”

Angela’s smile died, along with any hope that Justin would make this easy for either of them. She dropped her hand to her side. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I know we didn’t part as friends, but I had thought…” She swallowed, tried again. “I had thought that after all this time we could at least be civil with each other.”

“Then you thought wrong.”

“Apparently,” she conceded. “Still, I had hoped…”

“What? That maybe I’d forgotten how you walked out on me five years ago?”

“I didn’t walk out on you.”

“Funny, that’s sure how it looked to me when you packed your bags and hightailed it off to San Antonio.”

“I asked you to come with me,” she reminded him.

“Because you knew I wouldn’t go.”

It was true, Angela admitted in silence. She’d known he would never leave Mission Creek. So she’d run away to save both of them from hurting each other even more.

“Evidently you forgot what I told you when you left here.”

“I didn’t forget,” Angela told him. It was a scene she would never be able to forget no matter how hard she tried. Just as she’d never forget that look of shock and disbelief on Justin’s face when she’d told him she was taking the job in San Antonio. Nor would she ever forget seeing that shock turn to desperation when he’d pleaded with her to pass on the job, to stay in Mission Creek with him and work out the problems in their marriage. Even now she could still hear the lie trip off his tongue as he’d insisted that her being unable to have a baby didn’t matter to him. And when his attempts to reason with her had failed, his passionate pleas had turned into a white-hot anger that bordered on disgust and had left her chilled to the bone. She pressed a fist to her heart at the ache that came as she remembered the frigid way he’d looked at her and the coldness in his voice when he’d warned her that if she walked out that door, their marriage was over and he never wanted to see her again. Two weeks later she’d saved him the trouble and had filed for divorce.

“Then you know you’re not welcome here. Go back to San Antonio, Mason. You don’t belong here.”

Angela tipped her chin up a notch higher, met his cool gaze. “You don’t own Mission Creek, Justin. And you certainly don’t own the hospital. I have as much right to be here as you do.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you give a damn about Mission Creek? You wanted the bright lights of the big city, remember?”

“That’s not why I left, and you know it,” she told him, irritated with herself for letting him goad her. “We both know why I left Mission Creek.”

“Yeah. You left to get away from me,” he said, his voice bitter, his expression hard. “So I’ll ask you again, Mason, what are you doing here? Better yet, when are you leaving?”

His words stung, hurting her more than she’d ever thought they would. But after growing up in a household where her visions had made her a frequent target for her father’s verbal and physical lashings, she’d learned long ago that it was better not to show pain or fear. So she lifted her gaze and met Justin’s chilling green eyes. And with an aplomb she thought worthy of an acting award, she said, “In answer to your first question, I’m here as a guest. As to when I intend to leave, I’ll go when I’m ready. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

He blocked her path. “No. I won’t excuse you. I don’t want you here.”

He was so close, Angela caught the woodsy scent of his aftershave and spied the muscle ticking in his jaw. “You’ve already made that clear. Unfortunately, we don’t always get what we want.”

Johnny Mercado clamped a hand down on his son’s shoulder. “Ricky, quit badgering Sal here and go see to your lady friend. Looks to me like the sheriff is giving her a rough time.”

Ricky shifted his gaze to where the woman in question was in what appeared to be a heated discussion with Sheriff Justin Wainwright. “Angela can handle herself,” Ricky informed him.

“What kind of talk is that?” Johnny countered. “The lady came with you, didn’t she?”

“Angela Mason’s no schoolgirl, Pop. She knows what she’s doing. Give it a rest.”

When Ricky started to turn back to Sal, Johnny cuffed the back of his son’s head—something he had done many times when Ricky had been a teenager, hell-bent on getting into trouble. “You show some respect for me, and for that girl.”

Ricky smoothed a hand at his nape, eyed his father warily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

Johnny sighed. “I know you didn’t,” he said, softening toward this dark-haired, dark-eyed stranger that was his son. It had always amazed him that such a handsome and fierce young man had actually come from him and Isadora. Ricky had always been so much braver, so much stronger than he had been, Johnny thought. He still didn’t know what the hush-hush military mission was his son had just returned from, but he had no doubts that it had been dangerous. Ricky had never shied away from danger. And whatever this mission was his former commander sent Ricky on, it hadn’t frightened his son. Ricky hadn’t hesitated to go. Since his return, the boy had seemed different, more serious. But Ricky had said little about what had happened. Perhaps if he himself had been half the man his son was, Johnny thought, his Isadora would still be alive.

“Pop, you okay?”

Johnny shook off thoughts of his many failures. “I’m fine. Now, quit fussing over me like an old woman and go see about your lady friend.”

Ricky hesitated a moment, his gaze shifting from Johnny to Angela and back again. “All right. But you and I are going to talk, Pop. And I need you to be straight with me. I want to know what Del Brio said that’s got you upset.”

“Who says I’m upset? Do I look upset to you?”

“Cut the act, Pop. Sal told me you and Del Brio had words. I want to know what it was about.”

Johnny eyed his friend. “Salvatore doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Now, go see about little Angela and quit fussing over me. I can take care of myself.”

“Pop—”

“La Madre di Dio! Basta! Leave it alone, Ricky. Just leave it alone,” Johnny commanded, and stalked away from his son toward the bar.

By the time the bartender handed him the glass of red wine, Johnny’s hands were no longer trembling from the rage that had been burning inside him for weeks now, ever since he’d put two and two together and had realized the truth—that Frank Del Brio had played a hand in Isadora’s death. Mixed in with the rage was shame. Shame at his own cowardice. He stared at the glass of red wine, remembered the sight of his Isadora lying in the hospital bed all battered and bruised. What kind of man was he to have gone along with Isadora’s claim that she’d been mugged when in his heart he’d known the truth? She’d been beaten as a warning because he had not followed Del Brio’s orders.

He hadn’t been a man at all, Johnny conceded. He’d been a coward, a yellow-bellied coward and a weakling. And because of him, Isadora was dead. He took a swallow of the merlot and squeezed his eyes shut as he thought of his sweet, tiny wife who had never had an unkind word for anyone.

Forgive me, Isadora. Forgive me.

How could he have been so blind? Johnny wondered as he left the festivities and wandered outdoors, away from the noise, away from the lights, away from the memories. He stared up at the sky, noted the dusting of stars, the half-moon. Yet his thoughts remained on Del Brio. How could he have failed to see before now how truly evil the man was? And to think at one time he had even condoned the man’s offer and allowed him to become engaged to his daughter, Haley.

Haley. My pretty, smart Haley. You knew what he was, didn’t you? That’s why you disappeared. It’s why you pretended to drown and let us believe you were dead. But all these years, all these years, your mama knew. She knew you were alive. And that baby girl, the little one called Lena that was kidnapped, she’s your baby, isn’t she? My granddaughter. My flesh and blood.

“I’m going to get her back for you,” Johnny murmured. And once Haley’s baby was safe, he would make Del Brio pay. He would pay for destroying his family. For forcing his daughter into hiding. For what he’d done to Isadora. Johnny clutched the now-empty wineglass between his palms as anger festered inside him. And when the pig was pleading for his life, when he was begging that he not be killed, Johnny would show the dog the same mercy that he had shown Isadora. None.

“Johnny, I’m sorry,” Sal said as he came up behind him. “That boy of yours, he tricked me. He said you’d told him you and Del Brio had had an argument. So I thought he knew.”

Johnny held up a hand to stem his friend’s apology. “It doesn’t matter. Ricky’s a smart boy. Both he and his sister have always been smarter than their old man.”

Sal frowned at him. “You talk as though Haley’s still alive. I thought you said you didn’t believe all that stuff Del Brio’s been spouting off, you know, about her not dying in that boating accident.”

“I don’t believe it,” Johnny lied, and silently cursed his slip of tongue. It was bad enough that he’d persuaded his son that Del Brio was right in his suspicions that Haley was alive. Now he wished he hadn’t. While he was convinced that the nun the nurse reported seeing in Isadora’s room shortly before her death had been Haley, he’d probably have been wise to keep that to himself. “Sometimes I get confused and forget that she’s dead. Too much vino, I guess,” he explained, holding up his empty glass.

Apparently satisfied, Sal nodded. “So, you going to tell Ricky what you found out? You know, that stuff about Del Brio ordering that potass…that potass…”

“Potassium chloride,” Johnny said, supplying the name. He’d read up on the subject after learning that Del Brio had taken a keen interest in the substance shortly before Isadora’s death. He’d also discovered that potassium chloride was one of the four electrolytes found in the body, but if injected into an IV in large doses it would be lethal and cause a victim to suffer a heart attack. His Isadora had never had a heart condition. That she had suffered a heart attack within a week of her hospital stay was reportedly a coincidence. Well, he’d lived too long and seen too many people he cared about hurt to believe in such coincidences. “And no, I have no intention of telling Ricky. I don’t want him involved. This is between me and Del Brio.”

Sal’s eyes darted around, searched the shadows. “Talk like that will get you killed,” Sal hissed in warning.

“I’m not afraid of Del Brio.” And he wasn’t, Johnny admitted silently. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid.

“Then you should be. You know what kind of man he is, Johnny. He sees shadows when there are none. He thinks you’re out to get him, and he won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Not if I kill him first.”

Sal swore. “You’re my oldest friend, Johnny. I’m godfather to your son. I’m begging you to listen to me. Forget about this plan of yours,” Sal pleaded. “You’re no match for Del Brio. Not only is he almost half your age, he’s dangerous, and he has the power of the family behind him. His taking over for Carmine the way he did instead of Ricky, it only made him more dangerous. For you to even think of taking him on would be suicide.” He placed a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Let it go, Johnny. Forget what I told you about Frank ordering that drug. It’s too late to help Isadora now. And she wouldn’t want you to do something stupid that could get you killed.”

Johnny shook off Sal’s hand and whirled around to face his friend. “You think I really care what happens to me now?”

“You should,” Sal told him. “Frank isn’t like your brother, Carmine. He’s ruthless. He’ll kill you, Johnny. He’ll kill you without blinking an eye.”

“I told you, not if I kill him first. I intend to have my vengeance. An eye for an eye.” Una vita per una vita. A life for a life, he added silently.

Sal looked furtively around them again. “We shouldn’t even be talking about this, not here. You know as well as I do that the shadows have eyes and ears.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should. Maybe you’ve lost Isadora and Haley, but you’ve still got a son, Johnny. And Ricky’s still part of the family.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Ricky,” Johnny said, and stared at Sal Nuccio, a man much like himself. Someone who had been born into the life of corruption and had followed the dictates of the ruling family all of his sixty years. It wasn’t the life he’d wanted for either of his children. Haley had been smart enough to try to get out. But instead of escaping, Ricky had used the skills he’d learned as a marine to grow more entrenched in the family business. It was one of his greatest regrets, Johnny admitted. Maybe if he could make things right now, find Haley and her little girl and take out Frank Del Brio, Ricky would finally break away, lead an honest life, the life that he and Isadora had wanted for their son. “This is between me and Del Brio.”

“Do you really think that will matter to Del Brio?”

It would, Johnny promised. Just as soon as he found Haley and his granddaughter, he’d make sure that Del Brio never hurt anyone in his family again.

He was being a real bastard, Justin admitted. Though she’d tried to hide it, he hadn’t missed Angela’s wince before she had lowered her gaze. Disgusted with himself, he didn’t have to stare into those blue eyes of hers to know that he’d hurt her. He could remember all too well that bruised look she got when he’d hurt her feelings in the past. Hell, he’d been haunted by the memory of those sad blue eyes of hers for more years than he’d wanted to admit. Just as the woman herself had haunted every corner of his life for the past five years.

When she’d first walked out on him, he hadn’t been all that sure he would get over her. Those first few weeks had been a real bitch. But eventually time and burying himself in work had helped to dull the pain.

He’d gotten over Angela Mason. Or at least he’d thought he had gotten over her—until she’d walked through the doors of the hospital for tonight’s party. And now in less than an hour after seeing her again, she had him all tied up in knots.

He didn’t want her here. At least he’d been honest with her about that. What he hadn’t told her, and had no intention of telling her, was that he didn’t want her here because he didn’t want to remember what it was like to be with her, to hold her, to touch her, to taste her.

Justin shoved a hand through his hair. Dammit, he didn’t need this kind of grief. Not now. Not when he had so much on his plate trying to train a rookie deputy, finding the judge’s murderer, dealing with Del Brio and finding that missing baby. Having Angela show up now would only screw up his head, something he could ill afford at the moment. She would simply have to go, Justin reasoned.