Survive the Hunt

by Diana Duncan

  She marched up the church steps. If looks could kill, she was gonna fry Aidan O’Rourke’s gorgeous ass into a charcoal briquette.

  She didn’t lose her temper often, but right now it sizzled through her veins as hot and explosive as a lit fuse in a C4 factory.

  SWAT ... Sneaky Weasely Amoral Traitor.

  A good-looking blond usher approached as she stalked into the flower-laden vestibule. “Hello, and welcome.” She didn’t recognize the guy, but he had cop eyes. “Friend of the bride or groom?”

  Neither. “Groom.”

  “Would you like to sign the guest book?”

  It’d look weird if she didn’t. Gripping the pen in whitened fingers she resisted the urge to write KARMA, and instead scribbled her name.

  “I’ll escort you to into the sanctuary now, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” She self-consciously smoothed her gown, the only semi-suitable used formalwear she’d found in her size during her last-minute dash to the thrift store. The matching gently used sandals and clutch for five dollars were a bonus. “I’d like a seat in the very back, please.”

  The usher deposited her in the last pew, and she forced herself to take slow, even breaths. She wouldn’t cause trouble at Con’s wedding. But afterward—the mother of all showdowns. Aidan would not get away with this. She wasn’t letting the smooth-talking, sexy-walking, Irish bastard out of her sight ... until he paid for his treachery.

  She glanced around the packed sanctuary, where Celtic music drifted above the murmuring crowd. Sweet-scented pink and white roses bloomed everywhere and dozens of white candles twinkled like miniature stars. She gritted her teeth. Hanging on to her mad in the magical, romantic atmosphere grew tougher by the moment.

  It got even tougher when the sight of Liam’s K-9 partner Murphy, wearing a black bow tie and sitting happily in the front pew, made her grin.

  Soaring celebratory flutes and violins poured from the speakers. Celtic Woman’s “The Sky and the Dawn and the Sun” began to play. The crowd’s rustles and murmurs went silent. The poetic lyrics sang of the rising sun bringing light and paradise to conquer the dark night, and opening dawn’s skies to a forever love. For a couple who’d survived that terrible night in the mall together, it was a perfect, joyous anthem to begin their new life.

  Letty and the bride’s and groom’s mothers were escorted down the aisle, Maureen and Letty taking their seats beside Murphy.

  Four tuxedo-clad men sauntered in single file from a side door up front. Con, Aidan, Liam, and Grady assumed their positions to the right of the altar and then turned to face the guests.

  A collective feminine sigh rippled through the sanctuary. Zoe lost her breath, as if all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked from the stratosphere.

  Dear generous Irish gods.

  All the darkly delicious, mouthwatering O’Rourke men together, their potent masculinity showcased in formalwear, were enough to bring the entire female population to their knees.

  Weapons of mass distraction.

  She clenched her fists. Stay focused. No matter how magnificent, she was still going to wring Aidan’s neck.

  Following three bridesmaids clad in elegant pearl gray, three adorable little daughters of Syrone Spencer—Bailey’s mall security guard friend—danced down the aisle in fluffy white dresses, scattering pink rose petals on the white carpet runner.

  The music segued into a poignant Irish harp melody. Everyone stood as the radiant bride glided in on Syrone’s arm. As the groom watched a glowing Bailey float toward him in her blush-colored, fairytale princess organza ball gown, the awestruck, tender love on Con’s face jammed a lump in Zoe’s throat and sent hot tears trickling down her cheeks.

  She’d give everything she owned to have a man look at her with such yearning expectation. Such unfailing hope. Such immeasurable joy.

  She silently wept through the entire, beautifully touching ceremony, attacked by an unsettling cocktail of sentiment, frustrated regret, and empty, aching longing.

  And felt more alone than ever before.

  But she had time to rebuild her fury as she furtively followed Aidan’s car to the reception at the ritzy Montrose Hotel.

  His generous offer to clean up at his place had been a sham. A clever fraud, designed to lure her to his apartment so he could get her alone and defenseless, use her, then dump her.

  The SOB was a superb actor. His performance this afternoon merited an Oscar. And she was in terrible trouble. Her inborn lie detector had failed where he was concerned. Which meant she couldn’t believe anything he said or did.

  A horrifying fact she’d discovered only after the damage had been done.

  She lost track of him in the parking lot while removing the wedding gift from beside her new replacement survival bag in the trunk. Carrying the wrapped set of four Galway crystal wineglasses she’d also scored at the thrift store, she marched inside. Even at basement bargain prices, the dress, shoes, clutch, tote bag, and gift had blown ten day’s grocery money in twenty minutes.

  After a fruitless search for the target of her ire, she accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. She surveyed the crowded dance floor, where Murphy pranced with the three excited flower girls. The littlest one was missing her pink rosebud and dangling ribbon hair wreath, which now crookedly adorned Murphy’s head, an incongruous accessory to his bow tie.

  Letty bustled over, resplendent in lime green chiffon accented by a veiled hat piled with faux sugared purple grapes. “Hi, dearie, you look fab! How wonderful to see you again.”

  “Hi, nice to see you, too. Looking pretty fine yourself. Ah ... do you know where Aidan might be?”

  “Haven’t seen him, but I’m sure he’ll show before dinner’s served. That boy isn’t one to ever turn down a meal.”

  “Hmm.” Zoe sipped bubbly champagne, a very rare treat. “I notice Liam’s had three different partners just since I’ve been standing here. Does he ever dance with the same woman twice?”

  Letty heaved a sad sigh. “Unfortunately, poor heartbroken Love-’em-and-Leave-’em Liam never does anything with the same woman twice.”

  Heartbroken? Liam, the wicked charmer? Not likely. Zoe’s tongue burned with the urge to ask about Aidan’s girlfriends, but she quenched the urge with her remaining champagne.

  Thirty aggravating minutes later, she finally spotted Aidan’s tall, handsome, tux-clad bod—long legs planted in that aggressive male stance she knew all too well—near the back of the huge ballroom. Alone.

  All the better to make mincemeat out of your mangy, spurious hide, my dear.

  She wove through the throng, and stormed up to him.

  His brows lowered. “This is a private celebration for friends and family. The press is not invited.”

  Judging by his remote expression, she might have been a complete stranger instead of a woman with whom he’d spent an extraordinary afternoon. Obviously, their time together had only been meaningful to her. Their unique link one-sided.

  She’d thought him unable to hurt her any worse, but her stomach twisted. “I’m not here in an official capacity. Reserve a slot in your busy, scheming schedule for a chat after the reception.”

  “We have nothing more to say to one another. Go home.”

  Aidan’s mother materialized from the open doorway beside him, a mythical faerie queen resplendent in flowing, rich pewter satin that complemented her tall, fit form, and the bright flame of her classic up-do. “For shame, Aidan Jamison O’Rourke. I taught you better than to speak to a lady that way.”

  Red streaks slashed his cheekbones. “She’s a reporter.”

  “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, boyo.” Maureen smiled warmly at Zoe. “When I was in San Francisco with the rowing team last fall, I saw you on TV narrating a touching feature about hard-to-place children awaiting adoption. Thanks to your insightful story, I imagine some of those children now have loving homes.”

  Aidan’s glance flicked to Zoe. The painful uncertainty shadowing the choco
late depths slammed her with a startling, hit-and-run revelation.

  He wasn’t emotionally impervious to her.

  In fact, maybe the exact opposite.

  He ran from strong emotions. Perhaps her enigmatic cop went to such extremes to hide his interest in her because he, too, was leery of the powerful feelings simmering between them?

  Maybe Aidan wasn’t striving to protect only his family, but also protecting his heart.

  He frowned. “She barged in uninvited.”

  “She most certainly did not.” Maureen shot him the disobey-me-and-die look perfected by mothers around the globe. “I invited her, back at your apartment.”

  “Terrific.” His chest rose and fell in a frustrated sigh. “Enjoy the party, Zagretti. But stay the hell away from my family.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. Time someone called him on his self-delusions. Way past time someone pointed out a few hard, cold truths.

  And she was the perfect woman for the job. She angled her chin. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “Not a damned thing,” he gritted.

  Ha. Predictably, he’d charged straight into the trap. “Glad to hear it. Then you’ll have no objection to a private confab after the reception. You and I are way overdue for a come-to-Jesus meeting.”

  Maureen developed a sudden coughing fit. A masculine snicker sounded from behind Zoe, and she turned to see Con, his arm around an amused, but trying to hide it, Bailey. When had the bride and groom arrived? Zoe glanced to her left. Oh hell. She and Aidan were surrounded by his entire family. Grady studied Zoe, his gray-green irises alight with speculation while Liam chuckled.

  Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “This is no joke.”

  Zoe shook her head. “No, it’s not. And if you’d stop being so ...” Pigheaded probably wouldn’t win her any points. Then again, she was clinging to the last dregs of patience with her cop. “So ...”

  “Officious?” Liam supplied helpfully.

  “Obstinate?” Con chimed in.

  “Overbearing?” Grady added.

  “Defensive,” Zoe amended. “And just listen—”

  “Very helpful, baby brothers.” She could hear Aidan’s back teeth grinding from where she stood. “Nothing like ganging up on a guy.”

  She exhaled a sharp breath. “I am not the enemy. Well, I wasn’t before you took ... Before this afternoon. Now, I’m not so sure.” She gazed around at the curious faces fixed on them, and turned to leave. “Um ... later.”

  Aidan’s hand on her arm stopped her as he glared at his brothers. “Does the bloody peanut gallery mind if we have a personal discussion here?”

  Con smirked. “Not at all. Go right ahead.” As Bailey elbowed her new husband’s ribs, he grunted.

  “Aidan.” Maureen’s stern expression brooked no argument. “Perhaps you should dance with our guest. And mind your manners, boyo.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he growled. “Excellent idea. Probably the only way we can have a conversation without an audience.” He took possession of Zoe’s hand and towed her toward the dance floor.

  “None of A-Man’s ladies ever talk back to him,” Liam muttered as Aidan whisked Zoe past. “If you ask me, he needs an irreverent woman.”

  “I’m not his woman,” she hissed over her shoulder. The last thing she wanted was an emotionally constipated male. That would be no different from living alone. Worse, in fact.

  Over by the DJ’s station, Letty waved at Zoe, and as if on cue, a new song began. “When a Man Loves a Woman.” Sexy, romantic music to argue by.

  Aidan pulled Zoe into his arms. “All right. What do you have to say that is all-fired important enough to disrupt my brother’s wedding?”

  “As if you didn’t know, you lying thief.” Held closely in his strong embrace, his clean, masculine scent washed over her, muddling her resolve. She shook her head in a futile attempt to clear the erotic haze. “I didn’t mean to start anything here. I only wanted to make sure I caught you immediately afterward. Before there are consequences, and it’s too late.”

  One big, capable hand swallowed hers and snuggled it to his shoulder, while the other slid around her. Her deeply-cut dress exposed almost her entire back to his broad palm that cradled her body close to his, and the erotic friction of warm, callused skin sliding from her bare nape down to the small of her back sent shivers racing over her. His low voice rumbled in her ear. “The damage is already done. Let’s have at it.”

  He held her gaze as they swayed. The seductive music wrapped them in an intimate cocoon, weaving a captivating spell. Her breasts pressed into his unyielding chest, where his heartbeat thundered beneath the tux. His rock-hard thighs brushed hers in a sensual caress. His warm breath feathered through her hair, sending tingles over her scalp and down her spine.

  With Aidan’s body joined so intimately to hers, there was no mistaking he was aroused. Incredibly aroused. And she was drowning in the deep, mysterious pools of his eyes.

  “Zoe.” Her name rolled off his tongue. Meant as a warning, it sounded more like he was savoring rich, intoxicating wine.

  She inhaled shakily. Battling to gather her splintered concentration, she attempted to pull away. “Um ... I’d better wait in the car. I’ll meet you outside when the reception is over.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” He held her tightly, thwarting her escape. “You came spoiling for a confrontation,” he murmured in her ear. “And I’m going to indulge you. Right here, right now.”

  Chapter 7

  9:00 p.m.

  “I don’t want to make a scene in the middle of the reception,” Zoe countered.”

  “Now you’re concerned about it?”

  “Yes!” Her frantic glance darted over Aidan’s broad shoulder. As commanding on the dance floor as during a hostage siege, he’d smoothly maneuvered her to an open side door.

  He glided them out, and into the parking lot. “Don’t be. We’re doing this outside.”

  Fury surged back with a vengeance. Same underhanded method as before. He’d muddled her with blatant sex appeal and caught her off-balance—all a ruse to gain strategic advantage. With her body still held tightly to his, his erection jutted against her stomach, and she jerked out of his arms.

  Okay, that he couldn’t fake. But lack of sexual attraction wasn’t their problem.

  “Oh, you—” A dozen insults battled for freedom behind clenched teeth, but she believed in fighting fair. Stick to facts, no dirty tactics. “You seduced me this afternoon, against my will.”

  “What?” He looked and sounded as shocked as if she’d suggested that he run back through the reception naked and covered in glitter.

  She groaned inwardly. Stick to the main topic. Silently counting to a hundred, she marched deeper into the parking lot, brightly illuminated by the huge full moon overhead. She found herself standing behind her Corolla. Good. If she needed to make a run for it, her trusty wheels would be handy.

  Aidan followed, and she dragged in an inhale. “You stole something very important from me.”

  “Ah. Came to that conclusion so soon?” He pursed his gorgeous lips. “As you judiciously pointed out, if something is free for the taking, technically, it isn’t stealing.”

  “You used me.”

  He stepped closer. “I did not seduce or use you. Like you, I took advantage of an opportunity to get what I needed.”

  Confusion battled to the top of her warring emotions. “Are you trying to tell me the sizzle between us was ... is unintentional?”

  “As the Fukushima disaster, honey.” He thrust an unsteady hand through his hair. “If it helps any, I don’t like it any better than you do.”

  Confusion retreated under dismay. He’d steamed her veggies without even turning up the heat. He had way too much power over her. “So you didn’t deliberately get me ... hot and bothered this afternoon to distract me?”

  “Hell no.” He again stepped closer. Ha! She was wise to his favorite intimidation strategy and didn’t give an inch. He frowned. �
��While we’re slinging accusations, you want to tell me your motives are a hundred-percent altruistic?”

  She opened her mouth to retort, then hesitated. Honesty was her creed. The Greek word for truth literally translated to “unforgetting.” She could never forget that she didn’t know who she was or where she came from. Therefore, truth was much more important in every other aspect of her life.

  Even furious, she wouldn’t lie to herself or him. “I admit, I am hoping that nailing the DiMarco investigation will bump me up at the station. I need money to move my mom here. But I also sincerely want to help your family.”

  “We don’t want your help. Don’t need your help.”

  “Really? Without me, you wouldn’t have the hard drives you stole this afternoon. Substituting similar-sized books so I didn’t notice until after I got home was vilely brilliant, by the way.”

  “Those hard drives are evidence.”

  “Don’t cops have rules about stealing evidence?”

  “They didn’t actually belong to you, either. Besides, as long as evidence is in plain sight—and due to the rip in your other bag, it was—it’s legally admissible in court.” He crossed his arms, biceps bunching under the tailored jacket. “Which wouldn’t have been the case after you’d tampered with it. You have plenty to keep you busy trying to piece those shredded documents together.”

  She should’ve known. He was too smart to buy the plant mulch ploy. She stepped closer this time, practically nose-to-nose. Two could play space invaders. “You haven’t had time to give the hard drives to the FBI.” I hope.

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “I want them back.”

  He shrugged as tension crackled in the air. “Not happening.”

  “They’re mine. I did the research. I found the link. I dug them out of the garbage.” She stabbed his sternum with her index finger. “Until I get them back, I’m going to stick closer than your shadow. You won’t be able to sneeze without me saying gesundheit.”

  He wrapped his hand around hers and held it flat to his chest. Under her palm, his heart hammered like a war drum. His eyes flashed, but his grip was gentle, his voice black velvet. “You don’t want to go one-on-one with me, Zagretti.”