Marriage Prey

  Marriage Prey

  Annette Broadrick

  One

  Los Angeles, California Late March

  Steve Antonelli stirred in his sleep, vaguely aware that there was something wrong.

  He pulled one of his pillows over his head and burrowed back to his very erotic dream. For the past couple of months, ever since he'd returned to Los Angeles from his exotic island vacation, Steve had dreamed the same dream every night—the dream that whisked him back to his tropical paradise and all the memories he'd made there.

  But the dream was gone.

  Something wasn't right.

  His normally dark bedroom—with its thick shades and lined drapes always closed—glowed with an unnatural brightness.

  It couldn't be morning. Not yet.

  And even if it were morning, he did not have to get up. He had the day off. A few weeks back at work as a homicide detective with the LAPD was enough to erase all thought of his vacation, at least during the day.

  Now even his dreams were being disturbed.

  Although still more than half asleep, Steve knew he wasn't in danger. The highly technological alarm system he'd had installed in his late-model condominium would have alerted him to a possible intruder.

  So what was going on with the light he couldn't seem to escape?

  He groaned, tossed the pillow aside and rolled over onto his back, the sheet wrapping around his bare hips.

  Steve shoved his hair out of his face and opened his eyes against the unaccustomed glare.

  What he saw caused him to jackknife into a sitting position.

  Three men stood around the bed—one on each side and the third at the end. From Steve's vantage point, all three looked to be well over six feet tall. They could have been made from the same cookie cutter.

  Each one was broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, with long legs covered in tight-fitting denim jeans.

  Each "one wore a large, silver belt buckle that should be listed as a lethal weapon.

  Each one stood with legs apart and arms folded over heavily muscled chests.

  Each one had a look in his eye and an expression on his face that caused Steve a moment of unease.

  Well, maybe more than a moment. If he didn't know better, he would say they looked like three avenging men with a mission.

  "What the—" he began, reaching for the pistol that was never far from his reach.

  It wasn't there. The man standing to his right reached behind himself and lifted the pistol from the top of the dresser as though answering Steve's question, before he carefully placed it back on the dresser.

  Now Steve really did feel naked. Not having any clothes on was one thing, but not having his protection was another thing entirely.

  "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

  The man who stood at the bottom of the bed—who appeared slightly older and that much meaner than the others—continued to stare at him for a long moment of silence, then asked, "You Steve Antonelli?" in a low drawl that sounded as unhurried as the man appeared.

  His alarm increasing with every breath he took, Steve demanded, "How did you get in here?"

  The designated speaker glanced to the man on Steve's left. "Jim circumvented your system. Quite a sophisticated unit you've got hooked up here, according to him. We're impressed."

  Steve dropped his face into his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. Was this some kind of dream he was having? Was this his punishment for the highly charged sexual dream he'd been thoroughly enjoying? He scrubbed his face with his hands and cautiously looked up.

  All three men were still there, standing in the glow of the overhead light like hunters eyeing their prey.

  Steve got the distinct impression that he was the prey.

  Nobody had made any threatening moves toward him, but he certainly hadn't gotten the impression that they were there to sell him Avon cosmetics, either. He felt strangely unalarmed, though, in spite of the weird circumstances.

  "'Are you going to tell me who you are and why you're here?'' he finally asked through gritted teeth.

  "When you tell us if you're Steve Antonelli," his uninvited visitor replied.

  "Of course I'm Steve," he yelled. "You could have gotten that off my mailbox. Now tell me who you are and what you want!"

  The three men looked at each other, then back at Steve. Their obvious spokesman said, "We're here to personally deliver your invitation to attend our sister's wedding next week in Texas."

  Now he knew he was dreaming. A bunch of strangers show up in his bedroom, wake him up—he checked his watch; it was barely seven o'clock—and now had the audacity to mention somebody's wedding they wanted him to attend? No way this could really be happening.

  He fell back on the bed, rolled over—burying his head in his pillow once more—and muttered, "Shut the light out when you leave, okay?"

  He knew when he woke up he'd enjoy telling his buddy, Ray, about the most ridiculous dream he'd had in a long, long time. He was supposed to meet Ray later this morning for brunch at their favorite restaurant on Sunset Boulevard, but he still had a couple of hours before he had to get up.

  "Nice try, pal," the older one said from somewhere near his feet. "We're here to make sure you don't miss the wedding. How about getting dressed and packed so we can get out of here?"

  Steve opened one eye enough so he could see the legs of the man standing beside him. This particular dream was slowly turning into a nightmare. The men were still there.

  He sat up and threw off the sheet, stood without bothering to shield his bare body from them and said in his most polite voice, "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

  Steve leaned on the counter and stared into the mirror, his bloodshot eyes blearily staring back.

  What could have caused him to have such a bizarre dream? He rubbed his prickly jaw, then slowly straightened, staring at his lean form. His body still bore the signs of his recent stay on a tropical beach—deeply tanned except for the area around his hips. He rubbed his taut stomach, then scratched his chest, reflexively. Was he finally losing it after all these years on the force?

  A three-week vacation should have been long enough for him to clear his head, catch up on his rest and learn to eat three meals a day with some degree of regularity. He'd returned home ready to face his real life again.

  Part of that routine was meeting Ray in a few hours for their weekly get-together. With a slight shake of his head, Steve turned on the shower and waited while the water warmed before stepping under the strong spray and forcing his body and brain to wake up beneath the steady onslaught.

  By the time he dried off, shaved, brushed his teeth and hair Steve finally felt he was ready to laugh off his early-morning delusion and get on with his day.

  He threw open the door into the bedroom and strode toward his closet. Halfway there he came to an abrupt halt.

  Three men stood shoulder to shoulder in a line between him and the door to the rest of the condo.

  Whatever was going on, this was no dream. He would just have to deal with whatever crazy stunt he'd been made a part of.

  "I give up," he said, throwing up his hands. "You've got me. Now tell me who hired you guys for this practical joke. Was it Ray? I'll admit I never thought he had this much imagination, but I'll admit he's good. You three look like you just came off the Universal lot of a Western town. All you need are six guns strapped to your hips."

  The spokesman of the trio glanced at the other two. "Can you believe this guy, pretending he doesn't know Robin?"

  Steve stared at them, unable to get his tongue wrapped around a coherent word. Finally, he managed a rather strangled rendition of the word "Robin?" He cleared his throat. "Are you by any
chance talking about Robin McAlister?"

  The men looked at him approvingly. "I'm glad to see your memory's improving," the one called Jim muttered.

  "There's nothing wrong with my memory. What I don't understand is what Robin has to do with you characters."

  "Well," said the third man who had been silent up until now, "it's this way. We're Robin's brothers and we're just here to make real sure that you show up at our sister's wedding next week...since you're going to be the groom."

  Two

  Los Angeles, California Previous December

  Steve let himself into his condo, turned off the alarm and then wearily entered the kitchen. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He was so tired that nothing sounded good.

  He opened the refrigerator and snagged a bottle of beer, his own form of a sleeping potion—one beer on an empty stomach would have him out in no time.

  The blinking light on his telephone registered three calls. He punched the replay button and listened.

  "Hi, Steve," a sexy female voice said. He frowned, then recognized Alicia's voice as she continued. "I haven't heard from you in weeks, honey. I know how busy you've been, but I miss you. Give me a call, okay?

  Anytime. Day or night." She ended with a breathy chuckle.

  "Yo, Steve, buddy, give me a call, okay?'' followed by a dial tone was the next message. Ray. He'd had to cancel their last two scheduled get-togethers.

  The third call made him straighten. It was his father. "Steve, give me a call whenever you get in tonight, will you please?"

  Steve glanced at his watch. It was past eleven o'clock, but then, his dad was never one to go to bed early. He reached for the phone and hit the speed dial number. His dad answered on the first ring,

  "What's wrong?" Steve asked as soon as his dad answered.

  "That's what I want to know," Tony Antonelli replied.

  Steve frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about, Dad. Your call sounded urgent."

  "It was. I'm concerned about you, Steve. You've canceled out on the last two family dinners your mother planned. Today was really important to her. I need to know what's going on with you."

  Steve dropped his chin on his chest and slumped against the kitchen cabinets. "It's just work, Dad."

  "You're letting it get to you, son," his dad replied softly.

  Steve rubbed his forehead and felt the ridges between his eyes. "This one was only five years old, Dad. Five. She was out playing in her yard and got strafed by a gang shooting. I'm going to get them for that, I don't care how long it takes."

  "I understand. I really do. And I admire your dedication, but, son, you've got to take some time off or you're going to end up as another statistic somewhere—of burnout, if nothing else. I know you aren't eating right or getting enough sleep. You've got to do something to get out of this rut you've built for yourself."

  Steve kneaded the muscles in his neck. "Yeah. I know."

  "Today was supposed to be your day off, wasn't it?"

  "Yeah."

  "So when was the last time you actually took your days off?"

  "I can't remember."

  "Uh-huh. How about Christmas? It's coming up in a couple of weeks. Can we count on your being here?"

  Steve smiled. "I'll be there. I promise."

  Tony's voice sounded gruff. "Good. I love you, son."

  "I love you, too, Dad," he replied. They hung up.

  Steve climbed the stairs and left a trail of clothes across his bedroom floor and into the bathroom. He stayed under the hot stinging water of a shower until the water began to cool, then dried off and fell into bed.

  His last thought was a reminder that he really needed to get a life.

  Austin, Texas

  "Just think about it, Robin, ten days away from everything we've ever known," Cindi Brenham said with an ecstatic sigh. ' 'Ten whole days cruising the Caribbean with nothing to do but eat all that fabulous food, flirt with the extremely eligible men who will no doubt look like male models. We'll break their hearts, work on our tans and then come back here to finish our last semester before graduation. Let's face it, we owe it to ourselves to have a little fun during our break."

  Cindi sat across from Robin McAlister at a small outdoor cafe near the University of Texas campus. Despite the calendar proclaiming it to be the middle of December, the weather was sunny and warm.

  Robin studied her vivacious friend. Sometimes she wondered how two people so opposite in temperament and looks could be so close, but she and Cindi had been friends since their first day of school in Cielo, a small town in the western hills of Texas. They had never questioned their friendship as they'd gone from grade school to middle school to high school together. No one had found it in the least surprising that they'd chosen to go to the same university as roommates.

  Cindi planned to make her mark in the booming computer industry, while Robin had set her sights in the field of public relations. They'd already spent the past two summers interning in those fields and were looking forward to getting out in the world in a few short months.

  In the meantime they were impatient to break out of their current educational routine and do something totally different.

  Robin sighed. "It sounds too good to be true, Cindi. Are you sure you understood your mother correctly?"

  Cindi bobbed her head, her black curls dancing around her face. "Aunt Nell bought and paid for two tickets on a cruise leaving January 5 and returning January 15, but Uncle Frank is in the hospital recovering from a heart attack. There's no way they can go, and it's too late to get their money back. It's a perfect opportunity for us."

  It sounded wonderful to Robin. A chance to get away for a while...a chance to be on her own. The idea of getting away from her three overprotective brothers sounded increasingly enticing, the more she thought about it.

  She loved her family, of course. Nobody could have more loving and generous parents than her mom and dad. Robin felt blessed to have inherited her mother's tall, slender figure, her red hair and her green eyes. Her mother had been a famous model before she had her family, and Robin had actually had a couple of offers to model herself since she'd been away at school. Of course, by then she'd known not to mention the offers to her family, especially her father.

  Robin hadn't expected, once she became a teenager, that her loving and normally easygoing dad would suddenly become a frowning, possessive guardian. What was worse, as she continued to grow and mature, he trained her brothers to watch over her like three ferocious guardian angels.

  Jason was the oldest at twenty-eight. He'd been named after their dad. Jim just turned twenty-five and Robin was almost twenty-two. Josh was the baby of the family at nineteen.

  Robin had hoped her brothers would relax their vigil once she went off to college, but it hadn't worked out that way. Jim was still in college at UT back then. By the time he graduated Josh had come along to take over the task of protective male in her life. It was enough to make her consider going over the wall and doing something completely crazy at times. Such as impulsively going on a Caribbean cruise in the middle of winter.

  "So, what do you think?" Cindi said, impatiently. "Don't you think it would be a perfect break from all this studying?"

  Robin nodded slowly, her thoughts churning. "Not only that," she said, "there's no way any of my brothers could get a ticket this late. I would actually be getting a chance to do something on my own without someone constantly hovering around me, scaring off any prospects for dates, like they've done for the past several years."

  Cindi grinned. "Oh, I don't know. If I thought I could convince Jase to come with us—'' she began in a teasing voice.

  Robin rolled her eyes. Cindi's crush on Jason was the worst-kept secret in the whole state. The fact that Jason totally ignored Cindi never seemed to dampen her ardor. Sometimes Robin wondered what Cindi would do if Jason suddenly showed her any attention. For all her bold talk, she'd probably run for the border.

  "Then you'll do it?" C
indi asked. "I told Mom I'd call her back tonight and let her know if we could go."

  "What should I tell my folks? I'm fairly certain my dad's not going to like the idea," Robin said, thinking out loud.

  "Then wait until just before we go. I mean, he never likes not knowing exactly where you are and whom you're with, so what else is new? But what could be safer than a cruise? We'll be rooming together. So we'll be keeping each other company and out of mischief. Besides, you're an adult now. He's got to let go sometime."

  "Uh-huh," Robin replied with more than a hint of skepticism. "You know that. I know that. But as far as my dad is concerned, I'm still the toddler he used to carry around on his shoulders or in front of him on his horse. It's a wonder my brothers didn't hate me, the way he was always carrying on about his one and only daughter."

  Cindi grinned. "I think it's sweet, myself. Let's face it, behind that gruff exterior, your dad is a pushover. He's never been able to say no to you for long. His first glimpse of tears and he surrenders."

  "So if I wait to tell him until just before we leave, vou think he'll take it better?"

  "Nope. You just won't have to listen to him for as long. By the time you get back, he'll have calmed down a little. Maybe." Robin laughed. "Yep, that's my dad, all right." "We also have time to shop for cruise clothes. Oh, Robin! This is going to be the greatest time of our lives! We'll look back on this later and tell our grandkids about the time we took off to explore the islands in a cruise ship."

  "Let's just hope neither one of us gets seasick." Cindi stood, dropping a tip on the table for the waitress. "Well, we're about to find out, aren't we?"

  Santa Monica, California December 28

  "Let's face it, Steve," Ray said, walking off the court after they finished their last game of tennis. "You've been working too hard and you're out of shape. I can't believe you missed that last one." He slapped Steve on the back. "I never thought I'd see the day when I could beat you so consistently. Let's face it, ol' buddy, you aren't the challenge you used to be."