The Hero's Sin. Darlene Gardner

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      M ICHAEL WATCHED the couples on the floor, deliberately not meeting anyone’s eyes. As soon as he danced one polka with Sara, he was out of here. He wouldn’t have stayed this long if not for that catering truck.

      He expelled a short breath. Who was he kidding? The driver had probably moved that truck an hour ago. The reason Michael hadn’t left yet was wearing a pink and red dress.

      “What the hell are you doing here, Donahue?” The words were slurred, but Michael recognized the voice before he saw the speaker.

      Kenny Grieb, the ex-high-school jock Chrissy had dated before Michael. He wasn’t as lean or as muscular as he’d been in high school, but the bitterness in his expression was the same.

      “I was invited,” Michael said.

      “You shouldn’t have come,” Kenny drawled, moving closer as he talked. His floppy brown hair was untidy, his shirt coming loose from his dress slacks, his face flushed.

      Michael had never been afraid of Kenny and wasn’t now, but put his hand up like a stop sign. “I don’t want any trouble.”

      “Too late.” Kenny took another step and nearly tripped over an empty chair. It upended and clattered to the floor, drawing attention.

      If Michael didn’t get out of here soon, Kenny would create a scene and cast an ugly pall over Johnny’s wedding day.

      Michael glanced in the direction Sara had gone but didn’t see her. Regret seized him that he wouldn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but it couldn’t be helped.

      “I was just leaving,” he said.

      “That’s right,” Kenny yelled, his voice competing with the polka music. “Get out and don’t come back.”

      Michael’s hands fisted at his sides, but for Johnny’s sake he said nothing. He stopped only long enough to intercept Marie Dombrowski and ask her to give Sara his apologies.

      Then he left, a prospect that no longer held the same appeal now that he’d met Sara.

      Dusk had settled over the town, but the temperature had dipped into what felt like the sixties, downright cool compared to Niger’s heart. He removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, trying not to look back.

      That was a problem of his. He usually couldn’t help looking back.

      The catering truck was no longer double-parked behind his rental car, clearing a path for him to drive away from the reception. Away from Indigo Springs. Away from Sara, who had been a pipe dream anyway.

      He took the keys out of his pocket and hit the remote. The lights of his PT Cruiser blinked on, sounding a short, shrill beep at the same time somebody called, “Not so fast, asshole.”

      Great.

      Kenny Grieb had followed him.

       CHAPTER THREE

       S ARA RUSHED BACK to the table, her dress damp from where she’d blotted up the wine. Her round trip had taken longer than expected because Johnny’s father waylaid her when she was exiting the restroom.

      “Great to see you and Michael hitting it off,” Nick Pollock had said. “I get the feeling he doesn’t socialize much in the Peace Corps.”

      “The Peace Corps!” Sara repeated. Why hadn’t she put that together herself when she learned of the far-flung places Michael had worked? “He never told me he was a volunteer.”

      “Didn’t think he would. He’s sort of a serial volunteer. Been signing up for two-year assignments since he put himself through college. Holding down a full-time job at the time. He probably didn’t tell you that, either.”

      “No,” Sara said. “But why are you telling me?”

      “Because Michael’s a good man,” he’d said enigmatically, his expression suddenly serious. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

      “Why would anyone say differently?”

      He’d sighed and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Michael had it tough growing up. Did a couple of things he shouldn’t have. Angered some people. But he got through it and turned himself into somebody to be proud of.”

       Stop talking in circles! she wanted to yell. Instead she thanked him for enlightening her, a sixth sense urging her to hurry back to Michael. His empty chair confirmed her intuition that he’d been about to bolt.

      She surveyed the smiling couples twirling around the dance floor as the polka music played, hoping she was wrong, hoping Michael was among them. Somehow she knew she wouldn’t find him.

      Marie Dombrowski spotted her and separated herself from her husband, her brows pinched together in what looked like sympathy. “Michael asked me to tell you he had to go.”

      Sara must not have kept the dismay from her face, because Marie squeezed her hand. “I don’t think he wanted to leave, but another man—I didn’t recognize him but I do know he was drunk—was creating a scene. It seemed to me Michael left so there wouldn’t be trouble.”

      Sara thought over what Nick Pollock had told her, but she didn’t have enough information about Michael’s past to figure out why somebody would accost him.

      “He’s СКАЧАТЬ