Eve’s Wedding Knight

you like champagne… and here-I didn’t forget, I got you a straw, see? One of those bendy ones.”

While Eve was laughing at the prospect of drinking champagne with a bendy straw-how could she help it?- Sonny casually drew a flat velvet-covered case from under the tablecloth and handed it to her with a gruff and succinct “Here-this is for you.”

She set her champagne down untasted and reached for the case, while her cheeks flushed hot and her insides curled with a cold that felt like shame. She knew that case, knew without looking what she’d find inside; she’d seen it before, or one just like it, the night before what was to have been her wedding day, when Sonny had given it to her-his wedding gift.

She opened the case, gazed down at the pearl choker. Her throat closed. “Sonny, you shouldn’t have…”

“Hey-” He waved it off with a gesture. “Like I told you. What’s a pearl? Gives an oyster a bad case of indigestion. I had ‘em put a rush on it so it’d be ready for your birthday. It’s supposed to be an exact duplicate of the one that got stolen.”

“It’s beautiful. I wish-” Her hand fluttered involuntarily toward her collar.

“Hey, hey…” He leaned toward her, his voice low and guttural. “The day that damn thing comes off, I’m gonna take great pleasure in puttin’ these on you myself. I never did get to see you wearing it.” His eyes glittered in the candlelight.

Dry-mouthed, she whispered, “I know, I’m so-”

But he reached across the table to stop her with a finger touched to her lips. Then he closed the velvet case and took it from her and said with a grand wave of his hand, “Forget that-that’s just a replacement.” And with the air of an amateur magician producing a floppy bouquet from his sleeve, he handed her a smaller box instead. “Here ya go, babe-happy birthday.”

Eve took the box, moving slowly, as if in a dream-or a nightmare. She opened it and stared down at the twin diamonds that winked back at her from their bed of indigo velvet. Earrings. Exquisite diamond and dropped-pearl earrings. They must have cost a fortune, she thought dully. She felt strange-almost numb. Earrings. She didn’t even wear earrings, not anymore. Once upon a time she’d been the first in her circle of friends to get her ears pierced, but that had been years ago.

“I know you don’t wear earrings,” Sonny said, as if he’d heard her thought, and dismissed it with a shrug. “What the hell-they went with the necklace. I thought maybe someday you might wanna get your ears done, you know? And if not, hell, I’ll get ‘em made so you can wear ’em without.” Once again he reached for her hands, closed them around the earring box and brought them to his lips. “Can’t wait to see you in ‘em, you know that, don’t you, baby? And nothin’ else…okay, maybe the choker…” Then abruptly he let go of her and leaned back in his chair, swearing under his breath. “What the hell am I doing?” he muttered. “Makin’ myself crazy. Jeez, I hate that you have to be in that damn thing.”

Eve’s heart was pounding so hard, she couldn’t speak. She groped for her champagne, got the end of the straw between her lips and sucked greedily, draining the glass. “I won’t always be wearing this collar,” she said huskily. There… that was better.

Sonny refilled her glass, then lifted his to her in a toast. “I’ll drink to that… Reminds me,” he said, wiping champagne from his lips with a napkin, “your doctor called.”

Eve choked and then had to cope with champagne up her nose. Sonny had to get up and come around behind her and hold her steady while she coughed. She did have the presence of mind to say, “Ouch! Ow!” every time the spasms shook her, and Sonny, deeply concerned, said, “Jeez, don’t do that, baby-you’re gonna wind up in traction.”

“You said…my doctor called?” Eve wheezed when she was once again capable of speech. “What…what’d he want?”

“What? Oh-just said to tell you your appointment’s been changed to tomorrow afternoon. That’s in Savannah, right? You’re gonna need the limo-Sergei can drive you.”

Fortunately for Eve, who was once again carefully sipping champagne through her bendy straw, there came a knock at the door just then, and Sonny, instead of resuming his place across the table from her, said, “Hey-that must be dinner,” and went to admit the waiters. Because how on earth would she have explained the shine in her eyes, the deepening pink flush in her cheeks that could never be mistaken for anything else but joy?

Jake! I’ll see him tomorrow. Tomorrow!

Jake peeled off his headphones and dropped them on the narrow countertop. “I need some air,” he growled, pushing back his chair. He dove through the back doors of the van and kept going. He didn’t intend to stop until he’d reached the top of the nearest dune, where maybe the wind off the Atlantic, harbinger of the first nor‘easter of the season, would be strong enough and cold enough to blow the cobwebs out of his brain.

Brain? What brain? Because as far as he was able to tell, at the moment all he had between his ears was a scrambled mess of rage and frustration… Yeah, okay, admit it-and fear.

“What’s goin’ on?” Birdie joined him on the dune, puffing a little, Jake observed. He’d have to have a talk with Margie-the woman was too good a cook for her husband’s own good.

He shrugged, jerking his shoulders in the manner of someone shaking off an unwelcome burden, and punched words through his tightly clenched teeth. “Couldn’t take it anymore. Had to take a break.”

“Take what? You mean, Cisneros?” Jake snorted. Birdie hunched his shoulders against the chill wind and chuckled. “He is one charming son of a gun when he wants to be, isn’t he?”

Jake didn’t share his partner’s amusement. In his opinion, Cisneros was about as charming as a rattlesnake, and his wordless reply was more snarl than chuckle.

“What?” Birdie shot him a look along his shoulder. “Come on-you’re not afraid she’s falling for it?”

Jake kicked at a hummock of grass with the toe of his shoe. “The way that bastard’s laying it on?” He made a sibilant sound, replete with disgust. “You gotta hand it to him, he sure knows how to push the buttons. Champagne, flowers, candlelight, jewelry, pretty words… Hell, it worked once, didn’t it?”

Birdie was silent for a moment, kicking at his own hunk of grass. Then he shook himself-or maybe shivered-and said, “You don’t think he might have…genuine feelings for her? Hey-” he held up both hands to defend himself against Jake’s snort of derision “-even wise guys fall in love…get married.”

Jake swore bitterly. “If he’s convinced you, what’s he doing to her?”

“Come on…”

“You’re forgetting. Cisneros isn’t just a wise guy, the man’s a classic sociopath. He doesn’t have feelings for people-he uses people. That’s the only value they have for him-to be used. Otherwise he cares about as much for them as you do for that weed you’re stomping to death. If he’s giving her the royal treatment it’s because he wants something from her-period. I just hope she’s smart enough to realize that, is all.”

“Come on,” said Birdie after a moment, sounding unhappy, “you don’t really think she’d fall for it, do you? After what she heard? Knowing what she knows? What, just because he gives her some jewelry?”

Jake snorted, and this time the sound was meant to be laughter. “Some jewelry… That ‘replacement’ he was talking about? The one he said he had made like the one that got stolen? You know what that little bauble consists of? I know, because I took it off of her myself. It’s a pearl necklace-the real thing. Three strands perfectly matched with a diamond clip. Had to cost more’n you and I make in a year, and now she’s got two-a matched set.”

“Big deal,” said Birdie, “she’s only got one neck.” He punched his hands deep into his jacket pockets and shook his head, laughing softly. “All I can say is, I hope she doesn’t ever find out we had this conversation. She didn’t strike me as the type who could be bought with diamonds and pearls.”

She hadn’t struck Jake that way, either, and to be honest, it wasn’t the jewelry he was riled up about. And it wasn’t anything Cisneros had said or done-he was pretty much used to the way the man operated; nothing surprised him anymore. What had done it to him was Eve’s voice, whispery with tears. “Sonny, I wish…” Low and husky… “I won’t always be wearing this collar. ”

As for why that should be, well…he didn’t want to go there himself, much less bring his partner along for the ride. In the years since his divorce, Birdie and Margie Poole had done way more than their share of matchmaking on his behalf and he’d just as soon not give them any new ideas to work with.

So he grunted cynically and said, “I thought all women were the type-yours excepted, of course-you know I firmly believe Margie’s a saint. She’d have to be, to put up with you all these years.” He elbowed his partner, who