The Marriage Profile

“Because neither one of them will be able to stay away.”

Bobby scratched his head. “Come again?”

“The whole purpose of tonight is to acknowledge Carmine Mercado for his generous bequest to the hospital in his will. Ricky will come out of respect for his late uncle and for the Mercado family name.”

“And Del Brio?”

Justin smiled as he thought of the beady-eyed thug with the vicious temper. “Del Brio will come because he’s paranoid. He may have beat out Ricky as Carmine’s successor, but he doesn’t trust Ricky. So he’ll show up here tonight and flex his muscles just to make sure that Ricky and anyone else who thinks that a Mercado should be running the family business thinks twice before challenging him. He wants everyone in the family to see that he’s the boss now and that he isn’t going to tolerate any disloyalty.”

“Well, if they’re going to show, I for one wish they’d do it soon. I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

“There’s plenty of food here,” Justin pointed out, noting the half-dozen finger sandwiches and appetizers the deputy had piled onto his plate. He didn’t bother pointing out that the younger man had already consumed enough to feed several people.

“This stuff?” Bobby countered as he devoured one sandwich and then another whole. “Barely enough to put a dent in a two-year-old’s belly. I need something that will stick to my ribs.”

Since the guy was built like a running back for the Dallas Cowboys and had a good three inches and twenty pounds on his own five-foot-eleven frame, Justin reminded himself to be grateful that he wasn’t responsible for feeding his deputy. “Try eating some of the cheese or fruit,” Justin suggested.

Bobby obliged by scooping several chunks of cheese from the buffet spread, along with a handful of crackers, then followed Justin away from the table. “Any chance I can talk you into taking me over to the Lone Star Country Club for a meal when this thing is over?”

Justin snorted. “You’d have better luck winning the lottery,” he told the younger man. “I haven’t forgotten that you conned me into buying you a lunch there last week that nearly bankrupted me.”

“Hey, you were the one who offered to buy.”

“Yeah. Before I realized you had a hollow leg that needed filling,” Justin teased. “Sorry, cowboy. When we’re finished here, you might want to try Coyote Harry’s or the Mission Creek Cafe. There’s no charge for seconds on the specials.”

“Yeah, but the food at the club’s better.”

Justin cocked his brow and studied his deputy. “You sure it’s the food at the club that’s caught your interest?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean is it the Lone Star Country Club’s food you find so attractive, or is it that little blond waitress I saw you talking to?”

“What waitress?”

“You know, that one they call Daisy.”

For the space of a heartbeat Justin could have sworn he saw a flicker of alarm in the other man’s eyes. Then Bobby scratched his head and gave him a perplexed look. “Daisy? She the one with those sexy dimples?”

“No, that’s Marilee, and she’s a brunette,” Justin informed him.

Bobby’s lips spread into what Justin considered a college boy’s grin. “Whoever she is, she’s a real looker.”

“She’s also real married to a fellow who rides bulls for a living. You might want to steer clear of her.”

“No harm in looking, is there?”

“Not as long as all you do is look,” Justin advised the younger man.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

Justin nodded, taking a sip of the plain soda he’d been nursing since his arrival before discarding it on the tray of a passing waiter. When several moments ticked by with no newcomers arriving, he found himself growing impatient. “I’m going to move around a bit, see if I can pick up on anything. You might want to do the same.”

“Will do,” Bobby told him. “Want me to start over there where Johnny Mercado’s holding court?”

Justin followed the direction of his deputy’s gaze, frowning as he noted that Bobby was right. Surrounded by several members of the crime family and speaking emphatically about something, Johnny did seem to be holding court—which didn’t fit with the older man’s normal fade-into-the-background demeanor. Justin had concluded long ago that Johnny Mercado hadn’t been cut out for the business of crime he’d been born into. He was too weak willed and lacked the ruthlessness of his late brother, Carmine. Unfortunately, that criminal gene hadn’t bypassed Johnny’s son, Ricky.

As he studied Johnny, Justin couldn’t help feeling sympathy for him. Never a man to stand out in a crowd, Johnny was an easy man to overlook. And since the death of his wife, it was as though he’d disappeared within himself. He seemed to have aged overnight and had lost what little spark he’d once had. Or at least that had been the case until recently, Justin amended. Staring at Johnny now, he couldn’t help but notice the difference in the man’s demeanor. He was more intense, almost angry, Justin thought.

“Looks like you were right,” Bobby said. “Del Brio just walked in.”

Justin shifted his attention to the doorway where Frank Del Brio strutted into the reception flanked by two of his henchmen. Tracking his progress, Justin watched him make his way over to where Johnny and his cohorts had gathered.

“Want me to see if I can get closer and find out what they’re talking about?” Bobby asked.

“Not yet,” Justin told him, noting the adversarial body language between the two men. “Let’s see what happens first.”

Del Brio leaned in and said something to Johnny. Nearly a half-foot taller and leaner than Johnny, Del Brio blocked the older man’s face momentarily. But when Del Brio straightened, Justin caught a brief glimpse of Johnny’s furious expression—just before Johnny lunged at Del Brio. “Aw, hell,” Justin muttered. “Let’s go.”

Intent on moving in before things got ugly, Justin had taken no more than a half-dozen steps when he spied Johnny’s pals restraining him and halted midstride. Bobby nearly collided into his back. Justin held up a hand and said, “Hang on a second.” Still poised to step in if necessary, he waited several seconds until a smug-looking Del Brio sauntered off, leaving an angry Johnny Mercado staring daggers at his back.

“You want me to tell him and Del Brio to leave?”

“No,” Justin replied. “It looks like Johnny’s friends have him under control. Besides, the whole point of this thing tonight is to pay tribute to Johnny’s brother, Carmine, for his donation to the hospital. It wouldn’t look too good to kick Johnny out.”

“Wonder what Del Brio said to set old Johnny off?”

“I was wondering the same thing. I think I’ll go have a little chat with Johnny and see if I can find out. In the meantime, you keep an eye on Del Brio.”

“Will do. I—” Bobby’s jaw dropped. He let out a low whistle. “Oh, man, how come these wise guys have all the luck when it comes to women?”

At his deputy’s comment, Justin turned to see what had put that dumbstruck look on Bobby’s face.

And his own jaw dropped at the sight of Angela.

Feeling as though he’d been sucker punched, it took Justin a moment to regain his breath as he watched his ex-wife greet one of the hospital’s board members. Emotions stormed through him at breakneck speed—anger, disbelief, regret. He stared at her, noted that her hair was shorter now than it had been five years ago, a cap of sexy dark curls that framed her face and emphasized her cheekbones and those incredible blue eyes. She was thinner, too, he decided, as he followed the lines of the little black dress that skimmed her breasts, her waist, the curve of her hips. Disgusted by the unmistakable tug of sexual attraction, Justin scrubbed a hand down his face.

Get a grip, Wainwright.

He and Angela had both moved on with their lives since their disastrous attempt at marriage. She was a hotshot profiler now, and he was the sheriff of Lone Star County. And they had even less in common now than they had had when they’d split, he reminded himself.

But damn if just the sight of her didn’t still have the power to make his blood heat, his body ache for her. And if he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself falling under her spell all over again. Infuriated by that realization, he swore. “What in the hell is she doing here?”

“If by ‘she’ you mean the hot number with the legs, she came in with Ricky Mercado.”

Justin looked across the room at Angela again. A red haze of fury rushed through him as he stared at that scumbag Mercado whispering something in Angela’s ear, placing his hand at her back.

“Sheriff?”