Aiden held up both hands. “Hang on there, slugger. Why are you bleeding?”
“Why am I bleeding? Why am I bleeding?” she laughed. “I’m bleeding for the same reason your best friend is missing his wedding. Because of you.”
“Franchesca, I can explain.”
“I don’t want an explanation! You’re too late. Chip’s already long gone—”
“Uh, Frankie?”
“Chip! What the fuck?”
Chip peeked through the patio door looking sheepish.
“So, I found a room that was open, but it was occupied, and I think they’re calling security.”
“Back up, Kilbourn. Just back the fuck up,” Frankie ordered, wielding the alarm clock.
“Hey, Aiden.”
“Good to see you, Chip.”
“Don’t talk to him. And don’t you come near us!” Frankie inched past Aiden, dragging Chip with one arm while holding the alarm clock pointed in Aiden’s direction.
Asshole Kidnapper moaned on the floor. “She broke my nose.”
“Good,” the three of them answered.
“Now, Chip and I are going to walk out of here, and you both are going to let us, or I’m going to start screaming bloody murder, and all of resort security will be breaking down that door in thirty seconds.”
Frankie backed them toward the door to the suite.
When Aiden made a move to follow, she shook her head. “Uh-uh, buddy. You’re persona non-grata. You stay here with your pal. We’ve got a wedding to get to.”
“You should probably do what she says,” Chip suggested to Aiden. “She’s terrifying when she’s mad.”
“I can see that,” Aiden said, looking more amused than terrified.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” Frankie growled. “I’ll make sure you regret this. Let’s go, Chip.”
“Hey, do you want a ride, Aiden?” Chip offered.
Frankie slapped him on the arm. “No, he doesn’t want a ride. Kidnappers don’t get rides from their victims.”
“Awh, Frankie, he didn’t really kidnap me.”
“Then he conspired to kidnap you.”
“No, I didn’t!”
“No, he didn’t!”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Frankie said, finally understanding just exactly how mad a parent had to be to use those words.
She pushed Chip out into the hallway. “Stay,” she said, pointing at Aiden who was helping his brother to his feet. “If either of you try to follow us, I’ll kill you.”
“I think the crazy maid means it,” Elliot stage whispered, still clutching his nose and looking terrified. “Lo siento, lady. Lo siento.”
“Seriously? We’re in Barbados, you idiot!”
She pulled the door shut and then pushed Chip toward the stairs. “Go! Go! Go!”
They sprinted to the basement and burst through the double doors. Footsteps sounded a floor or two above them. Flor in Frankie’s sundress was stocking a cart with mini shampoos.
“Can you lock that door?” Frankie asked, as she worked her zipper down her back.
Bianca raced to the stairwell door and locked it. “Someone’s running,” she reported, stepping away from the window.
“Thank you so much for everything,” Frankie said, shoving her way out of the dress. “Sorry about the blood. Those closet safes are sharp.”
Something, a good-sized body from the sounds of it, hit the doors at a run.
Frankie winced. She’d have nightmares forever of being chased down the stairs.
Flor stripped down quickly and handed the dress back to Frankie. “I hope you showed that asshole in 314 who’s boss.”
“I’ll apologize for the blood up there too,” Frankie said grimly.
Flor gave her a curt nod and clapped her on the shoulder. “Good luck, my friend.”
“May the force be with you,” Frankie offered. She was no good at pep talks or thank yous. “Let’s go Chip.”
They tiptoed out a side door and then half ran, half crawled, into the vegetation. The open scratches on her shins sang as she packed more dirt into the wounds. Her head throbbed and her hair was being picked apart by branches. But she had the groom.
“Ouch!”
Frankie looked back. Chip was holding a hand over his eye. “Are you okay?” she hissed.
“I got a branch in my eye.”
“Just look with your good eye. We’re almost to the wall.”
Finally, the great stucco monument rose before them. “Okay, we’re going to climb over, get in the car, and go get you married, right?”
“Right,” Chip said, still clutching his eye.
“Let me see your eye.”
He dropped his hand. There was a red welt that continued on either side of his eye. The eye itself was as red as a bloodhound’s.
“Oh, God.” She clutched a hand to her mouth. Frankie’s stomach could handle a lot of things. Wounded eyes were not one of those things.
“Why are you still bleeding?” Chip gagged. “It’s smeared all over your face.” He bent at the waist and dry-heaved.
“Let’s just stop looking at each other and climb the wall.”
Frankie shoved Chip up and over, and when he leaned down to offer her a hand, he wisely squeezed his eyes shut tight.
They landed unceremoniously alongside the highway two hundred feet from Antonio and his stupid little car. The engine roared to life as they approached. Frankie stuffed Chip in the backseat.
“Buckle up,” she warned, before jumping in next to Antonio.
The kid sped away from the resort with the vigor of a NASCAR driver in a brand-new sports car. Frankie pulled out her phone.
“Oh, my god.” She had nineteen missed calls. All but two from Pru. The others were from Aiden. She played her friend’s most recent voicemail and winced. Pruitt was sobbing uncontrollably.
Frankie hit redial with one hand and clung to the dash with the other. “Pru? Can you hear me?”
“Where are you?” Pru wailed. “Chip is gone. Aiden’s missing. And you abandoned me! My dad is looking for a weapon, and Chip’s mom already broke into the cocktail hour appetizers. I’m supposed to be getting married in twenty minutes, and I don’t have a groom or a best friend.”
“You have both, Pru. I have Chip with me, and we are on our way back.”
“You have Chip?” At least, that’s what Frankie thought she said. It was too high-pitched and blubbery to be sure.
“He’s right here. And there’s no rules about talking before the ceremony, right?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Pru sobbed.
“Here,” Frankie said, shoving her phone into Chip’s hand. “Talk to your bride?”
“Pru, baby?” Chip crooned into the phone.
“Is there always this much drama at weddings?” Antonio asked, veering around a pothole big enough to swallow their buggy.
“Really this is par for the course for most American weddings,” Frankie said.
“Really?”
“No! Jesus, Antonio. This is a complete shit show. Kidnappings and rescues—”
“And car chases,” Antonio added looking in the rearview mirror.
Frankie twisted in her seat to look. A big, black SUV was glued to their tail. She didn’t recognize the driver, but she sure as hell knew the passenger.
Chapter Twenty
Frankie released her safety harness and leaned out her open doorway to give Aiden a better view of her middle finger.
“It’s just Aiden,” Chip said, trying to juggle the phone and eye injury while shooing her back into the vehicle.
“Just Aiden? His brother kidnapped you!”
“That’s kinda the way they do things.”
“Your friends are horrible people,” Frankie yelled.
“Pru, baby?” Chip said into the phone. “Yeah, kidnapped. I know, right? Look, I gotta go. Aiden’s calling, and Frankie’s hanging out of the car, and we’ll be there so soon. I’ll explain everything after you’re my wife. I can’t wait to
see you in your dress. I love you,” Chip shouted over the wind.
“Don’t you dare answer that call—” Frankie’s warning did no good.
“Oh, hey, Aiden. Oh, good. You’re right behind us… No, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to tell her that right now. She’s pretty mad at you… I don’t know. We haven’t really had time to talk.”
Frankie reached behind her and snatched the phone back. “What the hell are you going to do, Kilbourn? Run us off the road? Shoot us in the back of the head?”
“Sit your ass down, buckle your seatbelt, and try to stay alive,” he growled into the phone.
“Excuse me? I don’t take orders from kidnappers.”
“He didn’t kidnap me!” Chip said.
“I didn’t kidnap him!”
“Whatever. Don’t even think about trying to keep us from the wedding. It won’t go well for you.”
“I’m not trying to keep you from the wedding, you irresponsible, exasperating idiot. I’m on your side.”
“Bullshit. You knew your brother had Chip.”
“I did,” he admitted. That temporarily shut her up. “I realized it when you read the business name on the room register last night. It’s a subsidiary of the family company.”
“Well, good news for you.”
“I promise you, I’ll deal with Elliot later. For now, let’s try to get the groom to his wedding in one piece.”
“You are the worst human being in the world, and I know a lot of people,” Frankie shouted into the phone.
“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” He disconnected before she could have the satisfaction of hanging up on him.
“Agh!”
“So Money Bags kidnapped you?” Antonio asked as he skirted through an alley.
“Yes,” Frankie said.
“No,” Chip said. “Hey, are you old enough to drive?”
They made it to the resort in one adrenalized piece. The big black SUV maintained its course and pulled up to the hotel behind them. Frankie tossed every bill she had in her wallet at Antonio, blew him a kiss, and dragged Chip out of the car.
Aiden burst out of the passenger door of the SUV, and the three took off at a dead run through the lobby.
The concierge and front desk manager gaped after them.
“We have to get you dressed,” Frankie said, pushing Chip toward the elevator. The doors miraculously opened, but Aiden slid in behind them. The close quarters were what pushed her over the edge. She launched herself at Aiden. Her hands were so angry they didn’t know whether to slap or punch and instead flopped uselessly against his chest.
“She’s going Solange on you,” Chip observed.
“Thank you. I can see that,” Aiden said dryly, wrestling Frankie into the corner of the elevator. “Stop. Hitting.”
He held her there with the weight of his body. Frankie’s rage kicked up another notch when her body reacted as if it was happy to have six-plus feet of lying asshole pressed against it. Stupid, traitorous body.
“Hold still, Franchesca. I’m just trying to look at the cut on your head.” He gripped her chin from behind as she flailed against him. “Stop.” He gave the order softly.
She winced when his fingers prodded the cut.
“It’s not too deep. But you should have it looked at.”
“Oh, sure. I’ll make an appointment with a doctor in the next, oh, two minutes before the ceremony starts.”
“What happened to your eye?” Aiden asked Chip.
“Tree branch during the escape. This is going to be some story for the grandkids someday.”
“Yeah, just remember who rode to your rescue and who was the bad guy,” Frankie muttered.
The elevator doors opened, and they spilled out into the hallway. Chip jogged toward his room, one hand clamped firmly over his eye. Aiden stood rooted to the spot. “We need to talk,” he said to Frankie.
“Yeah, well, that’s not happening either. I have nothing to say to you.”
“Let’s go Kilbourn. Gotta get me married,” Chip called from the end of the hall.
“Don’t get abducted again,” Frankie called after him. She whirled on Aiden and stabbed him in the chest with her finger. “He trusts you. But I don’t. And if you do anything to fuck this up for him and Pru, I’ll be taking your balls home with me in my carry-on,” Frankie warned him.
“I’m rather attached to them.”
“Don’t be cute with me.”
“You’re beautiful when you’re covered in blood and pissed off.”
“Then I must look like a fucking super model right now.”
She flipped him off one more time for good measure and stormed down the hall to her room. She’d forgotten until she got inside about the dress. The mangled, stained dress. The garment bag was hanging in the closet. She was too nervous to look to see if the hotel laundry had been able to work a miracle. She shucked off her now ruined sundress and shoved herself into the strapless bra and friggin’ forty-seven dollar satin briefs that had to go with the dress.
With shaking fingers, she unzipped the bag. Oh god. There were still visible berry stains. The tears at least looked… better-ish. It still looked like the dress had been run through a garbage disposal.
Her phone rang again and she stabbed the speakerphone button as she shimmied into the dress.
“Yeah?”
“Frankie, you’ve got to get down here. My dad and Chip’s dad are fighting in the aisle.”
“Fistfight or wrestling?”
“Ha. Basically, screaming at each other about how the other’s kid is a selfish asshole.”
Frankie could hear shouting in the background. “What are the groomsmen doing?”
“Putting action on it. Most of them think my dad can take Mr. Randolph because of the years of pent up rage.”
“Ugh. I’ll be down in two minutes. In the meantime, have your wedding coordinator do literally anything.”
“Hurry!”
Frankie hung up and stared in horror in the mirror. The left side of her face was covered in blood. Only some of it was dried. Her carefully coiffed hair was exploding out of the last of the torture pins that were still hanging on. She had an entire vine stuck in there somehow. And the dress?
The dress was cleaner now but still destroyed. Did bridesmaid dresses come in distressed fabric? Pru was definitely going to kill her.
There was a knock at the door, and Frankie tripped over the hem in her haste to get to it.
“What the hell do you want?”
Aiden was standing there in an annoyingly pristine, perfectly tailored tux. No blood or bruises on his face. Just a ghost of a smile and a garment bag slung over his shoulder.
“I thought you might need this,” he said, handing over the bag.
“Like there’s anything you could give me that I’d accept right now,” Frankie snapped. Her head hurt and so did her heart.
Seeing that she wasn’t going to, Aiden reached over and unzipped the bag himself.
It was her bridesmaid dress. Or at least an exact replica. “How in the hell—”
“Do you really want to know how, or do you want to put it on?” he asked.
“On.” Anger and shyness be damned. She had a best friend to please. Frankie slid out of her dress, shoving it into a pile on the floor.
Aiden lost that smug smile and simply stared.
“Like you haven’t seen a thousand tits before,” she muttered, stepping into the new dress.
He steadied her when she wobbled and zipped her up in the back.
“Perfect,” he said.
“How did you know my size?”
“Did you forget I’ve had my hands on you?”
“That was eighteen hours ago. How did you get a gown in my size here that fast?”
“Why don’t we take care of the blood and the hair instead of focusing on the hows?” he suggested.
“How did you get dressed so fast? Is Chip ready? Oh, God. You didn’t leave him alone did you?”
/> Aiden pushed her into the bathroom and wet a washcloth.
“Why are hotel towels always white?” Frankie winced, as he began to clean her face. “Those stains aren’t coming out.”
“Do you always babble when you’re nervous?”
“Nervous? I’m not nervous. I’m a freaking rock over here. I didn’t almost die or give myself a concussion or ruin my best friend’s perfect day.”
“Shhh.” Aiden worked the cloth gently around her temple.
“Look. You don’t have to be all gentle about it. We gotta get down stairs and keep Win and R.L. from killing each other. They were four seconds away from wrestling when Pru called.”
“Got it covered.”
“You have everything covered, don’t you?”
“I would if you’d let me.”
“You could have told me. That you knew who had him. That you were working on a plan.”
“I didn’t want to involve you in Kilbourn business. It’s messy and ugly, and I’m trying to impress you. So, how appealing would I have been if I told you my half-brother orchestrated this entire thing to ensure my vote for a new chief financial officer?”
“I find honesty a lot more attractive than someone who never gets dirty, Aiden.”
She turned to look in the mirror. He’d done the best he could with the cleanup, and she no longer resembled a car accident victim. “Oh, my hair.”
“Leave it down.” He pulled a pin out before she could object. “Don’t try to tame it.”
Their eyes met and held in the mirror. She was still mad. But marginally less mad. It must be his pheromones that he was giving off. Sexy, wealthy pheromones.
“We better get down there,” she said, grabbing a stick of deodorant and her lip gloss and shoving them in her clutch. “I can finish in the elevator.”
She made a dash for the door only to turn around. “Shoes!”
Aiden held up his hand, her sandals dangling from his fingers.
Chapter Twenty-One
The wedding was, despite the events leading up to it, picture perfect.
Well, after Pruitt’s father, R.L. tried to take a swing at Chip when he handed off his daughter to her groom. But besides that, it had been rather nice, Aiden decided.
Pruitt glowed in her gown and didn’t even seem to mind that Chip was wearing an eye patch. A scratched cornea, according to Dr. Erbman, an optometrist who was attending the wedding. The couple said their vows and sealed them with the requisite kiss. It appeared as though all transgressions had been forgiven and everyone was ready to enjoy the party. Everyone except Franchesca.
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