The Mighty Quinns: Sean

The agents pushed Eddie into the back of the sedan, then roared off down the street. Sean glanced at his watch again. It wouldn’t take him more than a half hour to deliver the message. After that, he’d head back to his apartment, type out a final invoice and get it in the mail. By next week, he could have his money, and the week after that, he could start looking for a small office. There was still advertising and office equipment to think about, of course. And he’d need a phone and an answering service and a beeper. If he was going to build a successful business, he’d have to start dressing for success, too—like suits and maybe a tie or two.

He strolled over to his car. “Milholme Street,” he murmured. “This should be fun.”

Milholme was only a few miles from Eddie’s place. Sean squinted against the midday sun, pulling his sunglasses down to read the numbers on the homes along the wide boulevard. But when he reached the address Eddie had given him, he discovered it wasn’t an apartment or a business, but a church.

He pulled the car into a spot on the street. Parked near the front of the church was a long limo with a Just Married sign pasted to the back. “What the hell is this?” Suddenly he regretted saying yes to Eddie. The last thing he wanted to was to tell some woman that she was going to be dateless for the wedding festivities.

Sean noticed several single women standing in front of the church, dressed in their Saturday-afternoon finery. One of them had to be Laurel Rand. He jogged across the street and approached the first woman he met. “I’m looking for Laurel Rand,” he said.

“She’s inside,” the pretty guest replied.

Sean nodded, then took the steps two at a time. The sooner he took care of this responsibility, the sooner he could get over to Quinn’s Pub and celebrate the successful closing of a case. He found a bridesmaid just inside the doors, clutching a bouquet of flowers in her hands. “Laurel Rand?” he asked.

“She’s down that hallway,” the bridesmaid said, pointing to the left. “Last door on the right. Are you the photographer?”

Sean frowned at the girl before he headed down the hall. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he knocked on the door. But when a woman dressed in a bridal gown opened it, he knew taking the money from Eddie had been a colossal mistake. He’d just been thrown to the lions and he was wearing sirloin shorts. “Laurel Rand?”

“Yes?”

Sean swallowed hard as her gaze met his. He recognized her as one of the women he’d seen with Eddie over the past few weeks. But he’d never realized how beautiful she was. She looked like a angel, all pale and perfect, dressed in white. He had to clench his fingers just to keep from reaching out and touching her. Her wavy blond hair was pulled back from her face and tucked beneath a veil, but a tiny strand had slipped loose, the only distraction from absolute perfection.

Her dress rustled, startling him back to reality. “You’re Laurel Rand?” Sean repeated, all the time praying that Laurel Rand was somewhere else inside the room, maybe arranging the flowers or polishing the bride’s shoes.

“Yes,” she said. “Are you the photographer? You were supposed to be here an hour before the wedding.” She reached out and grabbed his hand, then pulled him into the room. Her touch was warm and caused an unbidden reaction. “We only have thirty minutes before the ceremony is supposed to begin. How are we going to get all the shots I wanted? Where is your equipment?”

“I—I’m not the photographer.”

She let go of his hand. “Who are you? And why are you interrupting me? Can’t you see I’m the bride? You’re not supposed to make me nervous,” she babbled. “I’m supposed to be calm. Don’t I look calm?”

He fought the temptation to grab her hand again, to hold on tight while he gave her the news. “You…you look—” Sean took a deep breath, searching for a word to adequately describe her. “Beautiful. Stunning. Actually…I’d say…breathtaking.” For a guy who had trouble talking to women, he certainly wasn’t having any trouble now.

A tiny smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Thank you.”

Sean wanted to turn and run, content to keep the memory of Laurel Rand in his head just as she was when she smiled. To hell with Eddie. He was a bigamist, nine times over. But still, some inborn instinct to protect her from humiliation kicked in. “Can we talk?” he asked, reaching out to take her by the elbow, anxious for any excuse to touch her again.

“Talk?”

He shut the door, then gently steered her toward a chair, just in case she decided to faint. “Who are you marrying today?”

She stared at him for a long moment with a confused expression. “I—I’m marrying Edward Garland Wilson. But you should know that, if you received an invitation to the wedding.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “Are you crashing my wedding? Who are you?”

“Just one more question,” Sean said. “Is your groom about six-one, dark hair, graying at the temples?”

“Yes,” Laurel said. “Are you a friend of Edward?”

“Not exactly. But he did send me here to give you a message,” Sean said.

Her expression brightened. “He did? Oh, that’s very sweet. But he could have come himself. I don’t care about those silly superstitions about seeing the bride before the ceremony. What’s the message?”

Sean cursed silently. Jeez, why had he agreed to do this? He should just turn around and get the hell out of Dodge. He didn’t need to break this woman’s heart. And he certainly didn’t want to see her cry. But he suspected there was no way he’d get out of the room without doing both.

He took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. “Edward won’t be coming to the wedding.”

LAUREL STARED at the handsome stranger, unable to comprehend what he was saying. “Is this some stupid joke?” she asked. Sure, it might be fun to tease the bride on her wedding day, but this was downright cruel. Didn’t she have enough to worry about?

“I’m afraid it isn’t,” the man replied. “Eddie gave me a hundred dollars to come over and tell you personally.”

“No,” Laurel said, shaking her head, panic quickly setting in. “This can’t be happening. I have to get married today. There are guests and bridesmaids. I spent two months picking out the music. He cannot get cold feet thirty minutes before we walk down the aisle!” Laurel pushed past the stranger. “Where is he? I want to talk to him.” She cursed beneath her breath as she headed to the door. They had an agreement! And he wasn’t allowed to back out, especially at the last minute.

He grabbed her hand as she brushed past him, his touch firm and sure. “He’s not here. And you can’t talk to him.”

“Why not?” she demanded as she yanked out of his grasp.

“Because he’s on his way to jail,” he said.

Laurel spun around and faced him. “Who are you? And why are you here?”

“I told you. Eddie sent me. My name is Sean Quinn. I’m a private investigator. And I’m…” He paused. “I’m the one who sent your groom to jail.”

She gasped. “Jail? You sent Edward to jail?” She wasn’t sure what possessed her at the moment. Maybe it was all the stress of the last few months—planning the wedding, making sure everything was perfect, finally finding a suitable man who wanted to marry her. Laurel didn’t expect a fairy-tale wedding, but she didn’t expect this nightmare, either! She balled her fingers into a fist, cursed beneath her breath, and punched Sean Quinn squarely in the stomach.

The punch caught him by surprise and the air left his lungs in a loud whoosh. For a moment he didn’t breathe. He just looked at her with shock. Then he took a ragged breath. “Nice punch,” he said. “I—I guess I deserved that.” He slowly straightened. “But I expected a few tears, not a right jab.” He cleared his throat. “I think after I explain, you might feel a little better.”

She leveled a withering gaze at him. “The only thing that will make me feel better, Mr. Quinn, is if you disappear into thin air and Edward appears in your place.”

“That’s not going to happen. Your fiancé isn’t who he pretends to be. His real name is Eddie ‘The Cruiser’ Perkins. He’s a con man and he’s wanted in eight states.”

“You must be mistaken. Edward is from a very good family in West Palm Beach. They’re in international banking and investments. I met his parents.”

“They were probably actors he hired,” Sean said. “That’s his modus operandi, according to his sheet. He’s very good at what he does. You shouldn’t feel bad for being duped.”

“Duped?” Laurel said.

Sean Quinn gave her a weak smile. “I—I didn’t mean duped. I—I’m not saying that you’re stupid.”

“Stupid?” She felt an edge of hysteria creep into her voice and she fought the urge to punch him again. “You think I’m stupid?”

“No,” Sean countered. “Not at all. I think you’re—”

“Naive? Trusting? Gullible?”

He shook his head and swallowed hard. “Like I said before. Beautiful.”

His gaze met hers and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. He had the most amazing eyes, an odd mixture of gold and green, strangely intriguing, yet direct, honest. Since he’d walked into the room, she hadn’t really bothered to take a good look at him. After all, this was her wedding day. She was supposed to have her mind on her groom.

Frustration welled up inside of her and she felt like screaming. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. This wasn’t the most romantic day of her life, but it did represent a milestone of sorts. From this day on, she was supposed to be in control of her life.

Laurel walked over to the window and fixed her gaze on the courtyard outside. “The best laid plans…” she murmured. How could they have gone wrong? “I can’t believe this is happening.”