There Goes the Groom by Rita Herron Read Free Book Online Page B

forehead, and that big… gun could almost make a girl forget she had a ring on her finger.
    She glanced down at her hand.
    Well, technically now she didn’t have that diamond because the cops had confiscated it, but she was engaged.
    Not really, a tiny voice whispered.
    Because her fiancé had fled from the altar like a bat out of hell.
    Or a guilty man…
    Images of the paperwork the detective had shown her haunted her. Her dream house…not hers at all.  Her paid tuition…non-existent. Her bank account, all those tips she’d worked her butt off to earn… gone.
    Her future…in shambles.
    What if she was convicted and sent to jail?
    The sumo guy sat up, rubbing his eyes, but the drunk old man across from her was deep in never-never land, the smell of booze reeking off of his dirty clothes and beard. She wondered what he’d look like cleaned up.
    Was his son really a lawyer?
    If so, she needed his name. She just hoped he’d take an IOU since she was broke,
    Suddenly footsteps echoed on the cement floor, and the low rumble of voices in the distance. Two guards.
    The one who’d frisked her and taken her ring the night before appeared with Detective Muller by his side.
    Embarrassment flooded Marci as she realized she must look a fright. Where the handsome cop – irritating as he was – was dressed in a dark blue shirt that looked decadent against his olive skin, and he’d shaved and his hair was still damp from the shower.
    God, she wanted a shower.
    His dark gaze raked over her, then he gave her his deadpan cold stare. “Your sister is here to see you.”
    Relief warred with disappointment. Kim must be furious. She’d had to deal with the fallout from the runaway groom and the bride in handcuffs and handle the details of the wedding that didn’t happen.
    What had they done with all those drinks and that beautiful wedding cake?
    Oh, wait, the memory returned. Paul had knocked the cake off the stand when he’d raced through the ballroom with the police on his tail. As far as the drinks, she wished she had one now.
    God. Kim hated publicity and had made a reputation in the community for helping kids.
    She’d probably hidden out all night in shame. Once again because of her.
    How was she going to face her today?
     
    *~*~*~*
     
    Cade rolled his shoulders as he escorted Marci to the front. Protests from the others in the neighboring cells echoed in his ears. The same group that she had won over the night before in her cellblock rallied to free her this morning.
    Hell, they’d been singing Kumbaya and holding hands through the cells like they were at some kids’ camp before the guards had finally made them shut down around midnight.
    “You’d better not hurt her again!” Dottie yelled.
    “She’s innocent,” the sumo guy shouted.
    The drunk reached for her hand as she passed his cell.  “Remember to call my son Harry. He’ll take care of you.”
    If the man’s son was a lawyer, why he hadn’t come to bail his father out?
    Marci was rubbing her wrists, and he winced as he glanced down. The bruise on her arm had turned a nasty purple. She must bruise easily.
    He had not hurt her.
    At least not intentionally.
    That stupid dress swished again, then got caught in the door as he opened it.
    “Darn it,” Marci muttered as she tried to pull it free.
    He growled in frustration then opened the door again, crinoline bunching up in his hands as he shoved the miles of fabric through the opening. Still, three inches of the white lacy stuff ripped and remained wedged in the door edge when he closed it again.
    “Thank you,” Marci said primly.
    He simply glared at her because she was being so damn nice to him, and he knew she had to be uncomfortable after sleeping on that cot with the bubba woman.
    Besides he had a bad feeling he might have lost Pendergrass again.
    And if the scene he’d watched with Marci leading that sing-along was any indication, the only thing Marci was guilty of was being snowed by the