I dont usually do this, he said.
He didnt usually kidnap women or unbutton their wedding gowns?
Crista knew she should ask. No, she shouldnt ask. She should move now, back away, lock herself in the bathroom until her emotions were under control.
But he slowly lifted his hand. His fingertips grazed her shoulder. Then his palm cradled her neck, slipping up to her hairline. The touch was smooth and warm, his obvious strength couched by tenderness.
She couldnt bring herself to pull away. In fact, it was a fight to keep from leaning into his caress.
Jackson dipped his head.
She knew what came next. Anybody would know what came next.
His lips touched hers, kissing her gently, testing her texture and then her taste. Arousal instantly flooded her body. He stepped forward, his free arm going around her waist, settling at the small of her back, strong and hot against her exposed skin.
She didnt move away.
* * *
His Stolen Bride is part of the Chicago Sons series: Men who work hard, love harder and live with their fathers legacies
His Stolen Bride
Barbara Dunlop
www.millsandboon.co.uk
BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canadas far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.barbaradunlop.com.
To Mom with love
Contents
Cover
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Extract
Copyright
One
A heavy metal door clanged shut behind Jackson Rush, echoing down the hallway of the Riverway State Correctional Institute in northeast Illinois. He paused to mentally brace himself as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Then he walked forward, his boot heels clacking against the worn linoleum. He couldnt help thinking the prison would make a perfect movie set, with its cell bars, scarred gray cinder blocks, flickering fluorescent lights and the scattered shouts from connecting rooms and hallways.
His father, Colin Rush, had been locked up here for nearly seventeen years, ever since he was caught stealing thirty-five million dollars from the unsuspecting investors in his personal Ponzi scheme.
His dramatic arrest had taken place on Jacksons thirteenth birthday. The police rushed the backyard pool party, sending guests shrieking and scattering. Jackson could still see the two-tiered blue-and-white layer cake sliding from the table, splattering on the grass, obliterating his name as it oozed into a pile of goo.
At first, his father had stridently proclaimed his innocence. Jacksons mother had taken Jackson to the courtroom every day of the trial, where theyd sat stoically and supportively behind the defense. But it soon became clear that Colin was guilty. Far from being a brilliant investor, he was a common thief.
When one of his former clients committed suicide, he lost all public sympathy and was sentenced to twenty years in jail. Jackson hadnt seen his father since.
Now he rounded the corner to the visiting area, prepared for stark wooden benches, Plexiglas partitions and hardwired black telephone receivers. Instead, he was surprised to find himself in a bright, open room that looked like a high school cafeteria. A dozen round red tables were positioned throughout, each with four stools connected by thick metal braces directly to the table base. The hall had high rectangular windows and checkerboard tile floors. A few guards milled around while the other visitors seemed to be mostly families.
A man stood up at one of the tables and made eye contact. It took Jackson a moment to recognize his father. Colin had aged considerably, showing deep wrinkles around his eyes and along his pale, hollow cheeks. His posture was stooped, and his hairline had receded. But there was no mistaking it was him, and he smiled.
Jackson didnt smile back. He was here under protest. He didnt know why his father had insisted he come, only that the emails and voice messages had become increasingly frequent and sounded more and more urgent. Hed eventually relented in order to make them stop.
Now he marched toward the table, determined to get the visit over and done with.
Dad, he greeted flatly, sticking out his hand, preempting what would surely be the most awkward hug in history.
Hello, son, said Colin, emotion shimmering in his eyes as he shook Jacksons hand.
His grip was firmer than Jackson had expected.
Jacksons attention shifted to a second man seated at the round table, half annoyed by his presence, but half curious as well.
Its good to see you, said Colin.
Jackson didnt respond, instead raising his brow inquiringly at the stranger.
Colin cleared his throat and released Jacksons hand. Jackson, this is Trent Corday. Trent and I have been cell mates for the past year.
It seemed more than strange that Colin would bring a friend to this meeting. But Jackson wasnt about to waste time dwelling on the question.
He looked back to his father. What is it you want?
He could only guess there must be a parole hearing coming up. If there was, Colin was on his own. Jackson wouldnt help him get out of prison early. Colin had three years left on his sentence, and as far as Jackson was concerned, he deserved every minute.
His selfish actions had harmed dozens of victims, not the least of which was Jacksons mother. Shed been inconsolable after the trial, drinking too much, abusing prescription painkillers, succumbing to cancer five years later just as Jackson graduated from high school.
Colin gestured to one of the stools. Please, sit.
Jackson perched himself on the small metal seat.
Trent has a problem, said Colin, sitting down himself.
What Trents problem could possibly have to do with Jackson was the first question that came to mind. But he didnt askinstead, he waited.
Trent filled the silence. Its my daughter. Ive only been inside for three years. A misunderstanding, really, I
Save it, said Jackson.
Seventeen years ago, hed listened to Colin protest endlessly about how hed been framed, then railroaded, then misunderstood. Jackson wasnt here to listen to the lies of a stranger.
Yes, well... Trent glanced away.
Jackson looked at his watch.
Shes fallen victim, said Trent. He fished into the pocket of his blue cotton shirt. Its the Gerhard family. I dont know if youve heard of them.
Jackson gave a curt nod.
Trent put a photograph on the table in front of Jackson. Isnt she beautiful?
Jacksons gaze flicked down.
The woman in the picture was indeed beautiful, likely in her midtwenties, with rich auburn hair, a bright, open smile, shining green eyes. But her looks were a moot point.
Shes getting married, said Trent. To Vern Gerhard. They hide it well. But that familys known to a lot of the guys in here. Vern is a con artist and a crook. So is his father, and his father before that.
The woman obviously had questionable taste in men. Jackson found that less than noteworthy. In his line of work, hed come across plenty of women whod married the wrong guy, even more whose husbands didnt meet with the approval of their fathers. Again, this had nothing to do with him.
He looked back to Colin. What is it you want from me?
We want you to stop the wedding, said Colin.
It took a second for the words to compute inside Jacksons head. Why would I do anything like that?
Hes after her money, said Trent.
Shes a grown woman. Jacksons glance strayed to the photo again.
She looked to be twenty-six or twenty-seven. He doubted she was thirty. With a face like that and any kind of money in the mix, she had to know she was going to attract a few losers. If she didnt recognize them herself, there wasnt anything Jackson could do about it.
Colin spoke up again. She cant possibly know shes being conned. The girl places a huge value on honesty and integrity, has done her entire life. If she knew the truth, she wouldnt have anything to do with him.
So tell her.
She wont speak to me, said Trent. She sure wont listen to me. She doesnt trust me as far as she can throw me.
Im sure you can relate to that particular viewpoint, said Colin, an edge to his voice.
Thats what you want to say to me? Jackson rose to his feet. No way, no how was he buying into a guilt trip from his old man.
Sit down, said Colin.
Please, said Trent. Year ago, I put something in her name, shares in a diamond mine.
Lucky for her.
The woman might well be picking the wrong husband, but at least shed have a comfortable lifestyle.
She doesnt know about it, said Trent.
For the first time since hed walked in, Jacksons curiosity was piqued. She doesnt know she owns a diamond mine?
Both men shook their heads.
Jackson looked at the picture again, picking it up from the table. She didnt appear naive. In fact, if he had to guess, hed say she looked intelligent. But she was drop-dead gorgeous. In his eight years as a private detective, hed discovered features like that made women targets.
Hear us out, said Colin. Please, son.
Dont call me that.
Okay. Fine. Whatever you want. Colin was nodding again.
You hear things in here. And the Gerhards are dangerous, said Trent.
More dangerous than you two felons? Jackson didnt like that hed become intrigued by the circumstances, but he had.
Yes, said Trent.
Jackson hesitated for a beat, but then he sat back down. Another ten minutes wouldnt kill him.
They found out about the mine, said Trent, his tone earnest.
You know this for sure? asked Jackson.
I do.
How?
A friend of a friend. The Borezone Mine made a promising new discovery a year ago. Only days later, Vern Gerhard made contact with my daughter. Final assaying is about to be announced, and the value will go through the roof.
Is it publicly traded? asked Jackson.
Privately held.
Then how did Gerhard know about the discovery?
Friends, industry contacts, rumors. Its not that hard if you know where to ask.
It could be a coincidence.
Its not. There was cold anger in Trents voice. The Gerhards are bottom-feeders. They heard about the discovery. They targeted her. And as soon as the ink is dry on the marriage certificate, theyll rob her blind and dump her like last weeks trash.
Jackson traced his index finger around the womans face. You have proof of that? You have evidence that hes not in love with her?
With that fresh-faced smile and those intelligent eyes, Jackson could imagine any number of men could simply fall in love, money or no money.
Thats what we need you for, said Colin.
Expose their con, said Trent. Look into their secret, slimy business dealings and tell my Crista what you find. Convince her shes being played and stop that wedding.
Crista. Her name was Crista. It suited her.
Despite himself, Jackson was beginning to think his way through the problem, calculate the time hed need for a cursory look into the Gerhard familys business. At the moment, things werent too busy in the Chicago office of Rush Investigations. Hed planned to use the lull to visit the Boston office and discuss a possible expansion. But if push came to shove, he could make some time for this.
She was pretty. Hed give her that. Nobody in the Boston office was anywhere near this pretty.
Will you do it? asked Colin.
Ill scratch the surface, said Jackson, pocketing the photo.
Trent opened his mouth, looking like he might protest Jackson taking the picture. But he obviously thought better of it and closed his mouth again.
Keep us posted? asked Colin.
For a split second, Jackson wondered if this was all a ruse to keep him in contact with his father. Did Colin plan to string him along for a while for some hidden reason of his own? He was, after all, a gifted con artist.
The weddings Saturday, said Trent.
That diverted Jacksons attention. This Saturday?
Yes.
That was three days away.
Why didnt you start this sooner? Jackson demanded. What did they expect him to accomplish in only three days?
We did, Colin said quietly.
Jackson clamped his jaw. Yeah, his father had been trying to get hold of him for a month. Hed been studiously ignoring the requests, just like hed been doing for years. He owed Colin nothing.