Eve’s Wedding Knight

“He’s lying,” said Mirabella huffily. “Of course he is.”

“Yeah…” After a moment Summer opened her eyes and met Mirabella’s. “Then why isn’t she back yet? Where is she?”

Mirabella snorted. “This is Evie, remember. God only knows. And doing what, I shudder to think!”

Eve had come up with a plan. There was only one way out of the mess she was in. She was going to have to hot-wire a car.

But not to steal it-oh, heavens no. She was only going to borrow it, just long enough to get away and get help. She planned to give it back to its owner as soon as she possibly could, she really did- along with a nice letter of apology and a check. Well, maybe not a check-cash would probably be more prudent, under the circumstances. So that would make it all right, wouldn’t it? Sure it would. She didn’t see how anybody could put her in jail for that, especially once they knew she’d really had no other choice.

But first she had to find a car to hot-wire.

Didn’t anybody leave their cars unlocked anymore? She’d already been up and down the side street without success-and don’t think it was easy, creeping around in broad daylight wearing a filthy wedding dress and lugging around a bottle of vintage champagne. Most of which, admittedly, was inside Evie.

What now? Did she dare venture out into the square? There was a no-parking zone directly in front of the church, she knew, but from where she lurked, well-camouflaged behind some sort of sports utility vehicle and a large magnolia tree, she could see cars parked along the square itself, including a van with an official-looking logo on the door. Some sort of utility company, probably; it had orange cones set out fore and aft. Working on the lines somewhere in the area, she assumed, although she’d been standing here for several minutes now, and hadn’t seen any signs of work activity.

As she stood contemplating the van and its implications, her attention was diverted by a car-a late-model Jeep Cherokee-as it cruised slowly past the side street and her hiding place and eased to a stop in the passenger-loading zone at the foot of the church steps. Her heart gave a leap of hope as the driver’s side door opened and a man got out. She knew him at once, both by his unmistakable military bearing and the way the late-afternoon sun glinted on his all-American-boy handsome dark blond head. It was Troy, Mirabella’s exnavy SEAL brother-in-law, and if anybody could help Eve out of the jam she was in, it seemed to her, an ex-SEAL looked like a good bet.

She moved cautiously toward the corner, still keeping under cover behind the parked cars, while Troy hurried around to open both passenger doors and bent solicitously to assist his very pregnant wife, Charly, from the car. Charly had practically become a fourth Waskowitz sister since she’d come out from California to be maid of honor at Mirabella’s wedding and wound up falling in love and marrying Jimmy Joe’s brother and best man.

Meanwhile, an older but still slim and youthful-looking woman was climbing out of the back seat unassisted, followed closely by a barrel-chested man with rusty gray hair-hair that had once been as red as Mirabella’s. It was- oh God, it was her mom and dad, Pop and Ginger Waskowitz, come all the way from Pensacola to see their oldest daughter finally married, after they’d all but given up hope.

And seeing them, Eve gave a sharp little cry, which she quickly smothered with her hand. Her emotions had sneaked up on her, taken her by surprise. It had been a very long time since she’d felt that particular relief and gladness-the unadulterated joy a lost child knows when she spots her parents in the crowd.

But even as she surged forward to greet them, forgetting caution, a furtive movement caught at the fringes of her vision and sent her shrinking back behind one of the ubiquitous magnolia trees that line the sidewalks all over Savannah. Up at the top of the steps near the arched main doors of the church, a man dressed in a tuxedo had stepped forward out of the shadows.

Sergei! And he was looking intently up and down the street, obviously looking for someone. Looking for her!

With a little whimper, Eve slumped to the ground and leaned her back against the door of a Volvo station wagon. So near, and yet so far… A weepy lump of self-pity began to swell at the back of her throat, so she hurriedly swallowed it down with champagne. And winced-evidently on top of everything else, she’d bumped her lip during her ungraceful exit from the Dumpster. It had been numb before, but now it was beginning to throb.

What was she going to do now? That van had been her best hope for a hiding place, it seemed to her, but with old eagle-eye Sergei up there watching the street, she’d never make it across to the square without being spotted. She’d have to wait until he went inside for the ceremony.

But wait… what ceremony? There wasn’t going to be a ceremony. At some point that fact was going to be acknowledged and announced. As soon as that happened, Sonny and every single one of his “business associates” were going to come swarming out of that church with but one goal in mind-to find Evie!

She was running out of time. If she was ever going to make her escape, it had better be now.

It took some effort, but she managed to push herself into a crouching position from which to peer around the Volvo’s front fender. And what she saw taking place now up on the church steps once again sent the roller coaster of her emotions rocketing into the stratosphere.

It seemed that Sergei had been summoned to perform his duties as usher. Although clearly not happy about being forced to abandon his vigil, judging from the way he kept twisting and turning and trying to look back over his shoulder, he had nevertheless been called upon by someone in authority-probably that dragon of a wedding coordinator-to escort the mother of the bride to her seat of honor.

Tradition to the rescue!

It was Eve’s moment, and she wasted no time in taking advantage of it. In a flash she was out from behind the row of parked cars, sprinting barefooted down the middle of the side street to the corner, then across to the square. Crouched behind the car that was parked just behind the van, she took a moment to catch her breath while her mind careened wildly through the obstacle course of her options and possibilities. Which by this time, admittedly, could be classified as DWI.

Which probably explained why she arrived at the conclusion that the van was God’s answer to her prayers. Such a nice big van, the kind with double doors that opened in the back. All she had to do, it seemed to her, was open those doors, get inside that van and close them up after her, and she’d be safe. The best part of it was, she wouldn’t have to commit grand theft auto after all. Unless the doors were locked, and then maybe just a wee bit of breaking and entering… Hey-what was a little thing like a locked door to Evie Waskowitz? Piece a‘cake.

First, though, just a little bit more champagne to bolster her courage…oops-all gone. C‘est la guerre.

Her determination freshly primed, Eve tucked the empty bottle under her arm like a swagger stick, marched up to the rear of the van and took firm hold of the handle.

Chapter 3

Jake could not believe his eyes. What was this? What in the hell was going on?

First, Cisneros and a couple of his goons come running around the corner from the back alley, looking like kids with their pockets full of money and they’d just missed the ice cream truck. They look around all over the place for a while, up and down the street, then back they go.

A few minutes later, one of ‘em takes up a position at the front door, and tuxedo or no, the guy looks more like a bouncer at a biker bar than an usher at a wedding. Now here comes the bride herself, creeping up and down the street, hiding behind parked cars, looking in all the windows, like, if he didn’t know how crazy it was, he’d swear she’s looking to boost one.

Then the minute Cisneros’s goon turns his back, she’s hotfooting it across the street, looking like she’s got every intention of climbing into his van! What the hell was going on?

And what in the hell was he going to do about the woman out there right now, tugging and rattling his door handle? This wasn’t exactly a situation covered in the procedure manuals-not that Jake normally paid much attention to things like that-and there wasn’t anybody he could consult, as his partner, Burdell “Birdie” Poole, had