Kitabı oku: «A Fortune's Children's Wedding»
Kate Fortune’s Journal Entry
Heavens me! My long-lost son, Brandon, has a grown daughter! Of course, no one in the Fortune family knew about Angelica until a blackmailer began threatening to murder the young woman and frame poor Brandon for this unspeakable crime. How ever can I help Brandon out of this mess?
Flynt Corrigan is the only person I can trust with this delicate business. I know, without a doubt in my mind, that Angelica is innocent. So I’ve just sent Flynt down to Birmingham with Brandon to protect the newest Fortune and to introduce Angelica to her father. Of course, even I never thought anything might develop between Flynt and Angelica. But it has. And now, with a little nudging from me, Angelica will not only know the love of the Fortune family but also discover true love with Flynt.
Dear Reader,
I was delighted to be asked to write a book in the Fortune’s Children: The Brides series, because I was already familiar with the Fortune family. I’d previously written Stand-In Bride for the original Fortune’s Children series and a short story in A Fortune’s Children Christmas.
The Brides miniseries introduces Kate’s brother-in-law Caleb’s grandchildren, but my book, The Hoodwinked Bride, brings back some characters from the original series. This intrigued me, because I’d always wondered, What happened when Brandon was returned to his family after he’d been missing for all those years? A little back story is probably in order here: shortly after birth, Brandon Fortune had been given away (but was presumed to have been kidnapped) by his father to demented movie queen Monica Malone. At the end of the series, Brandon learned his true identity, and this long-lost child—now an adult who’d been brought up as a spoiled Hollywood kid—came back to be with the Fortunes. Except we never saw those scenes!
Brandon wasn’t quite hero material, but it seems he has a daughter he didn’t know about. Angelica, living with her mother, who is Brandon’s first love, is found and is fascinated by Flynt Corrigan, the investigator her grandmother Kate hired. I hope you enjoy reading about them being “hoodwinked” into a wedding and a happy ending.
Sincerely,
A Fortune’s Children Wedding
Barbara Boswell
Meet the Fortunes—three generations of a family with a legacy of wealth, influence and power. As they gather for a host of weddings, shocking family secrets are revealed…and passionate new romances are ignited.
Angelica Carroll: At twenty-six years old, her life’s just starting, as she’s introduced to her real father and discovers soul-shattering passion in the strong arms of the investigator hired to protect her.
Flynt Corrigan: Jaded private investigator. What he thought was just a temporary assignment to secure Fortune’s business turns into so much more….
Brandon Fortune: This California playboy has barely adjusted to the news that he’s Kate Fortune’s son, but now he’s about to meet his grown daughter. And Brandon’s also about to be reunited with his first—and only—love!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Prologue
“I ’ve located your missing granddaughter, Kate,” Flynt Corrigan addressed the Fortune matriarch before turning to her son Brandon. “We’ve found your daughter, Brandon.”
“Nice work, Corrigan.” Sterling Foster, Kate’s attorney husband, nodded approvingly at Flynt, then laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. “Another grandchild! Congratulations, Kate, my dear. Oh, and, er, congratulations to you, too, Brandon,” he added quickly.
Flynt studied Brandon Fortune, assessing his reaction to newly discovered fatherhood. Once he’d confirmed the news, Flynt had come to the Fortune family’s estate. Kate had brought everyone into the study to hear his findings.
“So it’s really true?” Brandon was clearly stunned. He sank into a chair and ran his hand through his overly long blond hair. His skin, tough and leathery from too much California sun and surf, had turned ashen beneath his perpetual tan. “All of it, Flynt? The daughter? The threats? It’s all true?”
Flynt felt a surge of sympathy for the man. Brandon Malone Fortune, third son of Kate and Ben Fortune who’d built the multi-international Fortune Corporation and founded a dynasty, had led a very strange life indeed. Learning that he was a father at this late date—and the victim of a blackmail threat—was another startling chapter in it.
“It’s all true, Brandon,” Flynt assured him.
“Brandon has a daughter! How wonderful!” Kate Fortune was smiling. Even though she’d only learned about this possibility a few days ago, she clearly didn’t mind the revelation. “Except for the threats, of course.” Her smile faded. “Who could have sent that note to poor Brandon? It’s beyond cruel—first informing him that he is the father of a daughter and then threatening to kill that daughter and frame Brandon for the murder unless the Fortune family pays.”
“Terrible,” Sterling muttered, heading over to the bar in the study. “My poor Kate.”
Flynt glanced at Brandon, who still seemed to be in a state of shock. Sterling handed his stepson a shot of brandy, which Brandon drained in one gulp.
“I’m a father,” mumbled Brandon.
Flynt took his cue to proceed with the information he’d gathered. “Your daughter’s name is Angelica Carroll, Brandon, and she is—”
“Carroll?” Brandon sat straight up in the chair. “Romina?” He jumped to his feet. “But I haven’t seen Romina Carroll in years. Years!”
“Romina Carroll is the mother of your daughter, Brandon,” said Flynt. He was more than a little surprised that Brandon remembered Romina Carroll at all, given that it had been decades since the two had been together. And from his own investigation, Flynt had learned that Brandon’s list of female companions down through the years had been—well, numerous was one word that came to mind, which was something of a diplomatic understatement.
“You remember this Romina Carroll, Brandon?” Sterling Foster seemed to be speaking Flynt’s own thoughts aloud. Flynt met the older man’s wry gaze with his own.
“Of course I remember Romina!” Brandon began to frantically pace the room. “She was my high school girlfriend! Well, she didn’t go to Beverly Hills High School with me, she lived in East L.A. We met on the board-walk in Venice Beach one day when we’d both ditched school. It was like love at first sight for us and we—we were each other’s firsts, you know? You just don’t forget that! We went together for two years, longer than I’ve ever been with any other girl.”
He slumped back down onto the sofa, scowling. “Romina dumped me when she was sixteen and I was seventeen. I took it hard, and after that I never saw her again. Now, you’re saying she was—she was—” He couldn’t seem to get out the word.
“Pregnant,” Flynt said it for him. “With your daughter, Angelica, who is now twenty-six years old.” He reached into the file he was holding and retrieved a photograph. “Here’s a picture of Angelica, taken by one of my investigators. It was shot with a long-distance lens so the quality isn’t very good…” Before handing it over to Brandon, Flynt couldn’t resist taking another look at it himself.
Though it was grainy and not too clear, Flynt had spent an inordinate amount of time studying that photograph. He wasn’t sure why. She was pretty, that was quite evident despite the somewhat blurred black-and-white telephoto shot, but he’d never been the type to drool over pictures of pretty girls. Not that he was drooling over Angelica Carroll, Flynt promptly assured himself.
He was intrigued by the concept of her. That had to be it, Flynt decided. As a former FBI agent, he had naturally slipped back into full Bureau training mode, which required an eye for detail in a case. His eyes had certainly detailed Angelica Carroll, he acknowledged a bit sheepishly.
So he provided himself with another rationale. In his current role as president and founder of Security Management Services—SMS to the industry—he knew it would be good business to commit to memory everything to do with this case, because it involved the Fortunes, one of the most prominent and successful families in the country. Therefore, he had seared Angelica Carroll’s face into his memory, along with the facts he’d learned about her.
“Angelica is unmarried, has no children and works as a nurse-midwife at MetroHealth, a university-related hospital in Birmingham, Alabama.” Flynt recited the facts.
Brandon raised his eyes from the photo. “What about Romina?”
“Romina lives in Birmingham, too. She has three other children, all younger than Angelica. As for the threatening note you received—”
“Do you think it’s possible that Angelica herself might have sent Brandon the threat, Flynt?” asked Sterling. “Or perhaps the mother, Romina, sent it in a bid to cash in on the, uh, Fortune connection?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Flynt. “There is that possibility, of course. I haven’t met either of them. I thought I’d give you this information first and let you decide what to do with it before I proceeded any further.”
“Brandon must meet his child,” Kate decreed. “And if Angelica or her mother sent that awful blackmail threat—well, we shall deal with that misguided bid for attention later.”
“Kate, I consider a blackmail attempt to be a criminal action, not simply a misguided bid for attention,” countered Flynt. Breaking the law was a personal affront to him.
Kate shrugged. “I propose that Brandon go to Birmingham immediately to meet his daughter, and that you go along with him, Flynt. For protection as well as for moral support.”
She stood beside her son and fondly ruffled his stiff, dry hair. It was a maternal gesture, one that she’d been unable to make when Brandon had been a child because she hadn’t known him as a child. She hadn’t known him until he had come back into her life some nine years ago because he had been taken from her as an infant. Pain shot through her, as it always did when she thought of the terrible fate that had befallen Brandon—and herself.
For years she had lived with the horror; her newborn baby boy had been kidnapped and despite a ransom payment, had never been recovered. And then nine years ago, the truth—and Brandon—had surfaced, breaking Kate’s heart all over again. Brandon hadn’t been kidnapped at all. He had been secretly given away to the legendary movie star Monica Malone by Ben Fortune, Kate’s first husband and Brandon’s father at the end of their tempestuous affair. Obtaining Brandon had seemingly satisfied Monica’s obsession to have a child by Ben. And Ben had never considered it necessary to mention the affair or the kidnap hoax or the baby boy to Kate ever again.
Brandon had been raised as a spoiled, yet emotionally neglected, Hollywood kid by the narcissistic movie siren. And though Kate had been overjoyed to have Brandon back, his upbringing had resulted in traits that annoyed or infuriated other members of the Fortune family whenever he visited from California. He had yet to be fully accepted by his siblings and his numerous adult nieces and nephews.
“Bad karma, huh, Mom?” Brandon stared up at her, seeming to read her thoughts. “I mean, Monica blackmailed Ben into handing me over to her and now here’s my own kid and more blackmail. I wonder what gives? What do you think, Flynt?”
Flynt was not one to delve into the arcane mysteries of karma. Now that he’d located Brandon’s daughter, which had been a personal request from his friend Gabe Devereax, husband of Kate’s youngest daughter, Rebecca, his mind was back on the business of running SMS. “I’m sorry, Kate, but I won’t be able to go to Birmingham with Brandon. That really isn’t the sort of work that—”
“I believe your company has handled some computer surveillance for the Fortune Corporation in the past,” interjected Kate. “But your firm does more than investigate electronic espionage, doesn’t it?”
“SMS provides a full range of services,” Flynt said eagerly. His company was his pride and joy. “We’re very well regarded in all branches of the security field.”
“Well, I have every confidence that we can arrive at an agreement that would be mutually advantageous to your company and ours, Flynt.” Kate easily resumed the executive mantle she’d worn for so many years. “One involving the full range of security services provided by SMS.”
“Kate, are you attempting to bribe Corrigan with a comprehensive contract for his Security Management Services?” quizzed Sterling. He didn’t appear to be averse to said bribe, however.
“My offer is to turn over all corporate security matters for the Fortune Corporation worldwide to SMS,” Kate said, spelling out the terms. “I’ll run it by Michael and Caroline—those are my grandchildren who are the company’s chief executives,” she added to Flynt in an aside, “but I’m certain they’ll agree.”
The offer—okay, so it really was a bribe—swirled in Flynt’s head. What an opportunity! The Fortune Corporation would be the most lucrative, prestigious account in his fast-growing business.
“Let me get this straight.” Flynt was pleased to hear how steady his voice sounded, as if he fielded fantastic offers like this every day. “SMS gets to handle all the Fortune Corporation’s security if I go to Birmingham with Brandon and set up a meeting between him and his daughter?”
Which meant that Brandon wouldn’t be the only one to meet Angelica Carroll. Angelica’s picture flashed before his mind’s eye. A thrill of anticipation jolted through Flynt, shocking him with its force. That the thought of meeting the unknown Angelica seemed to be engaging his interest as much as the extraordinary corporate opportunity was more than a little disconcerting. It was so unlike him. Work was—and had always been—his consuming interest.
“Not quite, dear.” Kate smiled shrewdly. “It’ll take time for Brandon and his daughter to connect. One meeting simply isn’t enough. Flynt, I’d like you to stay in Birmingham while Brandon and Angelica get to know each other. Then we’ll sign the contract.”
“And is the contract contingent upon a happy ending to this tale?” Flynt drawled. He should’ve known there was a catch. There always was. “Because if there is, I’m not interested. My time is too valuable to waste chasing rainbows.”
“You’re too young to be so cynical, my dear,” Kate reproved.
Flynt grinned in spite of himself. He was thirty-six, and it had been a long time since someone had told him he was “too young” for anything. He liked Kate’s take-action style. But not enough to accept the job unless the terms were sweetened in his favor.
Apparently, Kate realized that. “As much as I want Brandon’s relationship with Angelica to develop into a lasting one, I realize it might not happen.” She sighed. “The contract isn’t contingent on a happy ending, but there must be time and effort on your part to help their relationship along, Flynt. However, if Brandon and Angelica are simply incompatible, it won’t be your fault. We’ll sign that contract, regardless of the outcome.”
“It’s an extremely generous offer,” said Sterling. “If I were legally representing you, I’d urge you to accept it, Corrigan.”
It took Flynt all of one minute to follow Sterling’s advice. “With computers and faxes and phone conferences, I can temporarily run the business from Alabama as well as from anywhere. I’ll schedule a trip to Birmingham with Brandon,” Flynt said decisively. “Is tomorrow too soon to go, Brandon?”
Brandon wore the expression of a man poised on the ledge of a building, trying to decide whether or not to jump.
“Tomorrow would be wonderful,” Kate answered for her son. “Isn’t that right, Brandon?”
Brandon’s panicked eyes met Flynt’s, who took pity on him. He gave him a bolstering, fraternal pat on the back. “Brandon, pack your bags. We’re heading for Birmingham.”
Chapter 1
F lynt knocked on the door of the small, white frame house and wondered if he’d erred on the side of caution by not bringing Brandon along with him for this first visit to the Carrolls. Did he really need to play “advance man”?
Word around this well-tended, working-class neighborhood was that Romina Carroll tended to keep to herself but was hardworking and well thought of. She supported herself and her two youngest children by running a pet-sitting service, caring for the pets of people on vacation and others who worked during the day. She also baked and sold cookies to college students at Samford University and the University of Alabama’s Birmingham branch campus.
He knocked again, and the door opened a crack. Flynt tried to make himself look innocuous; he even managed what he hoped was a cheery smile. The mouthwatering smell of freshly baked cookies drifted from the house, and he inhaled deeply. And decided to act on a hunch. “I’m not from the State or the City Health Department, I swear.”
“The neighbors called to warn us that somebody was snooping around, asking questions about us,” a husky feminine voice replied from within.
“I bet it was old Mr. Willard next door who sounded the alarm about the Health Department,” Flynt said dryly, trying to see inside. It was almost impossible, with the door barely cracked. “He asked me more questions than I asked him, and they were all about permits and inspections and cookies like his mother used to make without government harassment.”
“Mr. Willard claims government jackals want a piece of everybody’s pie.” The female voice sounded amused. Yet wary and still on guard.
Flynt was tired of being stalled; it was past time to come to the point. “I’m Flynt Corrigan.” He slipped his business card through the crack. “I need to speak to Angelica Carroll.”
“What about?”
“I need to speak to Angelica Carroll,” he repeated.
“This card says you’re president of something called Security Management Services.” The insider’s voice was not only skeptical, it blatantly mocked him. “Am I supposed to believe that a president of a company is going door-to-door selling— What exactly are you hawking, anyway? Home security alarm systems? Well, we don’t need one, we’re already protected. Maybe you didn’t notice the sign posted in the yard? Or the decal on the front window?”
“You think I’m an incompetent salesman with a bogus business card?” Flynt shook his head, his voice laced with irony. “Ouch. My ego is decimated.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Corrigan.”
He knew the door was about to be closed and wouldn’t be reopened to him. All his law-enforcement reflexes were instantly activated. Flynt went straight for the door, wedged himself in the opening crack and pushed hard.
He heard an indignant gasp but he kept pushing, until the door was wide open and he was standing inside the house in a small, dimly lit vestibule.
“If you come one step closer, you’re toast, mister.” The threat was delivered by his husky-voiced sparring partner, but her words didn’t fully register with him.
Instead, Flynt found himself gulping for air. The sight of the young woman standing in the shadows a few feet away from him had literally taken his breath away.
It was Angelica Carroll. After all the time he’d spent studying her picture, Flynt knew he would’ve recognized her anywhere. What he hadn’t expected was her powerful physical impact on him. She had been intriguing in that grainy photo, but in person she absolutely captivated him. He reminded himself to inhale while his observational skills catalogued her.
Since he’d investigated her background, he knew of her mother’s mixed Romanian-Spanish descent. Those elements, combined with the distinctive Fortune good looks, created an ethnic hodgepodge mixing exotic, adorable and classic features into one unforgettable face, Flynt thought dizzily. He was at once amazed and dazed in a way he’d never been before. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She was small-boned, and he gauged her height at somewhere around five foot three or four. Her big dark eyes were framed by dark lashes and brows, her mouth beautifully shaped, the lips sensuously full. She had an ivory complexion, a striking contrast with the inky black color of her hair. It fell around her shoulders in a thick, silken curtain.
He blinked. And then visibly started. For not only was she incredibly attractive, she was also holding a gun, a snub-nosed .38, pointed straight at his chest.
“I’m not kidding,” Angelica said sternly. “One false move and you’re—”
“Toast,” Flynt completed the threat. “Yes, you mentioned that already.”
“You don’t really believe I’ll do it, do you?” Angelica sounded disgruntled. “Well, don’t challenge me or else—”
“I’ll be burned toast?” Flynt suggested.
Perhaps he was being reckless, but he wasn’t afraid of being shot by Angelica Carroll. The uncanny spell she seemed to have cast upon him struck him as far more dangerous than that gun, Flynt mused. Why else would he be gazing at her like a dumbstruck yokel in the presence of a royal princess?
“Angel, I heard voices, what’s going on? Who is this?”
The woman who joined them in the vestibule just had to be Romina, Flynt decided. Angelica’s response confirmed his hunch.
“Everything is under control, Mama. Don’t worry.”
“He’s with the FBI!” Romina exclaimed, her dark eyes pinning Flynt with a laser stare.
Flynt felt a peculiar frisson ripple through him. He was dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt and a jacket and knew his hair was a tad too long for regulation Bureau standards.
“What makes you think that?” He tried to sound casual but Romina’s response disconcerted him. He’d rarely been so quickly identified on sight as an agent, even when he actually had been working for the FBI.
“Instincts, honey. I operate on them,” Romina said flatly.
Flynt attempted to study Romina a bit more covertly than the frank way she was studying him. She looked like a version of Cher, he decided. Long, dark, straight hair and bangs, piercing dark eyes. Average height, average weight. Dressed in black leggings and an extra-long, crimson University of Alabama T-shirt.
Since his presence so far had only inspired Angelica to threaten to shoot him, he decided to address Romina instead. “I’m Flynt Corrigan, of Security Management Services, and I’d like to talk to you about your daughter, Angelica.”
“What about my Angel?” Romina bristled, her body language as defensive as her tone.
“I’ve been retained by the Fortu—” Flynt began, before Romina let out an ear-piercing scream.
“Mama, it’s all right,” Angelica said to calm her.
“Ms. Carroll, Romina, please get control of yourself,” Flynt ordered, but Romina kept screaming.
Within seconds, a teenage girl and a younger boy came racing into the vestibule.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” cried the boy.
The girl took action. She seized an umbrella from the tall ceramic stand in the corner and began to smack Flynt with it. “What did you do to our mama? Get out of here! Get out now!”
The attack was so unexpected that the girl got in two good whacks across his back and shoulders before Flynt’s trained reflexes kicked in. He grabbed the end of the umbrella and yanked it out of the teenager’s hands.
The boy emitted what may have been an attempt at a warrior’s whoop and charged Flynt, who easily sidestepped him. The young charger crashed into the wall instead.
“Oh, Casper!” Romina heaved a deep sigh.
“Stop right there, son!” Flynt’s voice, which had once caused criminals to halt in their tracks, proved just as effective on the boy, who was about to rush at him again. Casper froze in place. The girl shrank against Romina.
“There is no cause for alarm.” Flynt changed his tone into one of soothing reassurance.
He directed his attention to the boy and girl. They had to be Romina’s younger children, fourteen-year-old Sarah and twelve-year-old Casper, who’d been mere footnotes in his fact-finding probe. Now here they were in the flesh. Flynt knew there was another sibling too, Daniel, a twenty-one-year-old Marine currently serving in Bosnia.
Sarah looked wholesome and perky in her cheerleading outfit, her hair caught up in a dark ponytail. Young Casper, short and skinny with his thick-lensed eyeglasses sliding down his nose, was small and scared and literally trembling. Flynt felt sorry for him.
“I’m Flynt Corrigan, and I came here to talk to your mother and older sister.” He knew he’d better talk fast because Romina looked like she was gearing up to shriek again. “I think your mom must have misinterpreted what I said, because I certainly have no intention of causing trouble or harm to any of you.”
“Very impressive,” Angelica said coolly. “You play both bad cop and good cop, and you segue from one to the other without missing a beat. Now, drop the umbrella or I’ll shoot it out of your hand.”
Flynt realized that he was indeed still holding the umbrella. He let go, and it clattered to the scuffed wood floor.
“Put your hands up in the air,” ordered Angelica. “The way they do on TV.”
He reluctantly raised his hands in TV-style surrender. He had a feeling this scene was being enacted straight from a television cop show Angelica had watched. Unfortunately he’d landed the hapless role of criminal intruder.
“He did it!” Casper exclaimed, his voice squeaky with relief. “He listened to you, Angel.”
“When someone has a gun pointed at you, it’s wise to go along with the suggestion, son,” said Flynt.
“It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order,” snapped Angelica.
“And I’m not your son,” said the boy. He adjusted the frames of his thick glasses, his face scrunched in sudden confusion. “Am I, Mama?”
“No, I’ve never seen the man before in my life.” Romina took a few steps closer. Automatically, Sarah and Casper moved closer, too. They studied Flynt, their faces reflecting suspicion mingled with curiosity and fear.
“What I really think,” Romina said confidentially, “is that he’s some kind of undercover cop.”
Angelica appeared to consider the likelihood of this. “If so, he’s refined the usual police procedure. He seems to be trying to be personable.”
“Am I succeeding?” Flynt asked lightly.
“I’d swear he’s FBI, but the haircut doesn’t jibe.” Romina frowned thoughtfully.
Flynt watched them, listening, his investigatory instincts on full alert. Something was going on here. Had they actually been interrogated by an FBI agent at some point? If so, why? And if not, why the paranoia?
Unless they had sent that blackmail note to Brandon and now feared they’d been caught?
His eyes swept over Angelica Carroll. God, she was a knockout! She had the face of an angel—it seemed altogether fitting that her nickname was Angel. But her faded, snug jeans and ribbed sky blue shirt displayed a curvy, enticing figure that did not conjure up celestial thoughts. Far from it.
Flynt swallowed hard. She somehow combined a sweet wholesomeness with sexual intensity, an intriguing combination that fascinated him despite his efforts to ignore her allure.
It occurred to him how very much he did not want Angelica to be the blackmailer, and he tried to admonish himself for his uncharacteristic loss of objectivity.
“Why don’t you just drop your act and tell us the truth, Mr. Corrigan?” Angelica’s eyes met his, and he felt another jolt of awareness.
He quickly looked away from her, uncomfortable with the disturbing sensual power this woman he did not know—and most certainly couldn’t trust—seemed to hold over him.
“All right, I’ll tell you the truth. There is no reason not to, I have nothing to hide.” He knew he sounded slightly defensive. “I used to be a field agent with the FBI, but I retired from the Bureau five years ago to form my own company. We handle investigations and security for companies, universities and certain private individuals.”
“You used to be an FBI agent?” Sarah repeated doubtfully. “Why’d you quit?”
“Because the hours and the pay in the private sector are a lot better than working for the government.” Flynt injected a note of friendly humor in his voice, remembering their neighbor’s antipathy for “government jackals.”
He watched the Carrolls exchange glances, but could discern nothing from their blank expressions. Which were suddenly so thoroughly blank, the effect had to be calculated. Contrived. Flynt recognized a mask when he saw it, and right now he was seeing four.
Such total uniformity wasn’t accidental, Flynt decided, it had to have been previously rehearsed. He might have nothing to hide, but these people definitely did.
The question was what? Their plan to milk their connection to the wealthy Fortunes for all it was worth? They didn’t look like a clan of conniving blackmailers, but he knew from experience that judging on appearance could prove to be extremely unreliable.
“Could you put the gun down now, Angelica?” he asked.
“You didn’t say please.” Her tone matched the pseudo courtesy of his, word for word.
“By all means, let’s keep this party polite.” Flynt managed a forced chuckle. “Please, Angelica. You possess a remarkably steady hand, but being held at gunpoint is making me a little uneasy.” He was aware that he was trying—too hard?—to sound personable.
“I understand. And you’re not only uneasy, you’re insulted,” Angelica said sweetly. “Having a girl point a gun at you is insulting, isn’t it? After all, you have your big macho male image to maintain.” She kept the gun trained on him.
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