A Forever Christmas - By Marie Ferrarella Page 0,58

detective as Miss Joan protectively ushered her behind the counter and stood by her side. Miss Joan glared at Wynters.

“She says she doesn’t know you,” Gabe informed the stranger. “So maybe you should be getting on your way.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Some of the other customers had risen from their seats, their stance silently adding weight to Gabe’s words. For his part, the detective seemed totally unaffected.

“I thought she might try to pull something like this,” Wynters said to Gabe as he took a manila envelope out of the inside of his jacket. Slipping out the contents, he held it in his hand. “Got pictures of the two of us, plus one of her in front of the restaurant where she used to work.” He produced the latter, jabbing a finger at the background. “That’s Slice of Heaven,” he said for the benefit of the people who couldn’t make out the restaurant’s sign. And then he looked at Angel. “Bennett said to tell you that business hasn’t been the same since you left. Your old job’s waiting for you if you decide you want to come. To him,” he added, the silent implication was that in that case she had a choice. As far as coming back to him, she only had one choice. To agree.

With equal skepticism and reluctance, Gabe forced himself to look at the photographs.

It was Angel all right.

His heart suddenly felt like lead in his chest.

“Satisfied?” Wynters asked, putting the photographs back into the envelope before returning the latter to his pocket. “Now, if you don’t have any more objections, I’ll be taking Dorothy home with me.”

As the detective, who was a good four inches taller than Gabe, began to make his way around the counter in order to carry out his intent, Gabe grabbed hold of his shoulder and pulled him back for a third time, this time more roughly than before.

“No,” Gabe said firmly.

“No?” the detective echoed incredulously. Any pretense at common courtesy totally evaporated. “Who the hell do you think you are, telling me no?” he demanded.

“Someone who’s not going to let you just take Angel until she’s ready to go.” Gabe all but growled the words out.

Wynters gave him a once-over, a smug look entering his eyes. “What, she’s your girlfriend now?” he taunted. “Her name’s Dorothy,” he insisted. “Not ‘Angel.’ And I’d be careful if I were you,” he warned malevolently. “She’ll play you with those big blue eyes of hers, then, when you’re not looking, she’ll make off with everything you’ve got except for the fillings in your teeth—unless she’s gotten handy with a pair of pliers since she took off.”

He’d had about enough. “Like I said, I think you’d better leave, Detective,” Gabe ordered.

The gloves were off. The expression on the detective’s handsome face turned ugly. “The hell I will!”

The sound of a shotgun loudly being cocked caught everyone’s attention.

The detective and Gabe both turned to look behind them. Eduardo had come out of the kitchen, the shotgun that Miss Joan kept in the back held poised in his hands. It was aimed directly at the stranger.

“You heard the deputy.” Eduardo looked as if he’d welcome an excuse to fire. “Now go!”

“Put the shotgun down, Eduardo,” Gabe ordered gruffly. He wasn’t about to let the older man get into trouble because he’d been pushed too far by the taunting detective.

“I will, Deputy—as soon as this devil leaves Miss Joan’s place,” Eduardo answered. He was still aiming both barrels at Wynters, ready to discharge them at his target.

“He’s leaving now.”

The steely order came from the sheriff. Summoned by one of the customers on their cell phone, he’d come immediately. As he walked into the diner, there was an amiable look on his face, but one that meant business.

“Aren’t you, Detective?” He added the title after glancing at the badge that Wynters was still holding in his hand. The man treated it like a magic talisman that would allow him to have access to everything.

“But I know this woman,” Wynters insisted. “Isn’t that why you sent out that poster with her picture on it? To have someone come and identify her? Well, I’m identifying her!” he concluded angrily, behaving as if he’d expected accolades, not road blocks.

“And we appreciate you coming all the way down to our little town, Detective,” Rick said with barely veiled sarcasm. “But you can also appreciate the fact that I can’t just send her off with someone she clearly doesn’t remember.” As if to back up