by Denise Wells
What? Does he want her to fuck up the entire mission? First, he spills it about the restaurant location. Now, he’s got her on the guest list for the ceremony and the reception. A guest list, mind you, that includes a lot of really fucking wealthy people.
My theory on that is that he wants an excuse to spend time with her. And chicks think weddings are romantic. Maybe he’s hoping she’ll change her mind about them being together if they share a romantic day. Because, no matter what Mack says, he is still head over heels in love with her.
I’m not going to lie; Daria has this kind of badass persona about her. A don’t fuck with me vibe that is scarily effective. Maybe it’s because she’s a bar owner—always having to break up fights or throw drunk guys out on their ass. Makes me wonder why she’s not in law enforcement.
Until I remember she’s not a US citizen—something I always forget. We’ve never really talked about her citizenship status, I know she’s not illegal, because she owns a business, but maybe something else in her past prevents her from as much.
A rapid knock sounds on the door before it opens, the wedding coordinator pokes her head in and tells us we have twenty minutes until go time.
Finally.
I don’t understand why we had to be here so early. I suppose the longer that I have available to me to keep eyes on David, the better. Really, I should be using this time to try and find anyone else who could be involved in this with him. Problem is, I haven’t interacted with anyone outside of these yahoos in the room with me.
I decide to take a quick walk around the church to see what I can before everything begins; slipping out before any of the other guys have a chance to stop me or see me to do it.
The large circular hall that stretches around the chapel portion of the church is quiet, all I hear are my footsteps duly echoing on the polished wood floors. I’m surprised I don’t see more people milling about. They’re expected to have close to six hundred people in attendance, with a wedding that size you’d think guests would be more obvious.
The late afternoon sun is starting to leave shadows around the outside of the building and darken the inside. I slow my pace to take in more of my surroundings, noting exits and corridors, other anterooms, and closed doors. I notice a few men from the bureau, but barely spare them a glance as I pass by. It won’t do for me to acknowledge their presence, or vice versa. To the guests, they are security and I’m in the wedding party. Nothing more.
Who I don’t see anywhere are Mack and Daria and I’m not sure if that should worry me or not. I’m going to guess that they are inside and seated already. I open one of the doors leading into the chapel and peek in, shocked to see that most seats are filled. What kind of organization must it take to pull off an event like this? Better yet, how do they even know this many people?
I’m assuming David and Laurel registered for gifts. I hadn’t bought one yet when I found out about David’s extracurricular activities and now, I don’t plan to. But this means they had to register for hundreds of items, if not more. I shake my head to try and clear it. Why do I care? What does it matter? Fuck David and his wedding plans.
It takes about five minutes for me to complete the circle of the outer hallway perimeter. Whatever it is that I was looking for, I don’t find it. I make my way back to the room where David and the other groomsmen are waiting. Opening the door to hear David and groomsman number three making a five-hundred-dollar bet on whether number three will get laid during the reception, or whether it will be after in his hotel room.
I wonder if I ever really knew any of these guys at all. Because if they haven’t changed, it means I have. I’m not against having fun. Or getting laid. But betting on whether you can get a girl to screw you in the bathroom leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Bile rises in my throat as David slaps the guy on the back as a show of good luck.
David looks up at me and smiles. “Is it about that time, Reedy-boy?” He uses a nickname from college that I abhorred, and he knows it.
I return a more fake smile. “If it weren’t your wedding day, I’d smack that smile off your face for calling me that.”
Anger flashes across his face. It’s fleeting, and he’s quick to mask it with a well-practiced smile. I know what to look for now in expressions and with emotions thanks to FBI training. To do so, I have to view David as though he’s a stranger even though I know him so well. Because this other side of him, the one that will make bets on sex with women and help sell them into sexual slavery, this guy I don’t fucking know at all.
35
Quinn
I keep wondering if there is something more I should be feeling about David getting married today. Not that we were ever that serious. But he is my ex, and he was my longest relationship at three months.
What can I say? I get bored easily, my attention wanes—turns out guys don’t like it when you don’t pay attention to them. Reed is the longest I’ve ever been interested in a guy. And before you say it, no, it’s not just because I want what I can’t have.
It’s more than that.
Way more.
Reed is like the prize at the bottom of the Cracker Jack box. Or the chocolatey goodness in the middle of the Tootsie Pop. It’s all yumminess to get there, and then it’s even more delicious once you are.
Anyway, from a romantic standpoint, I don’t care that David is getting married. You know, like Oh no, my ex is getting married and I’m still single. It’s more of a What the fuck? My ex is a reprehensible waste-oid of a human and is getting married while I’m still single. Or maybe my being single has nothing at all to do with it, and it’s just that someone actually loves him enough to marry him without knowing the truth about him.
Unless she does know the truth about him and the whole family is involved in the trafficking. But that would mean she knows about his debts and I can’t imagine that would be okay with her or her family.
Ha!
I have to laugh at myself. That I assume the embarrassment line is drawn for Laurel’s family at debt and not kidnapping and selling people is crazy.
I pace back and forth in my living room trying to think the entire situation through. Whether I ever noticed anything with David or his behavior. If there was something I could have done differently to prevent all this.
I got nothing.
My heels click on the tile floor as I take twelve steps in one direction, pivot, then twelve in the other.
Did I mention that I’m dressed for the wedding?
I know I’m not invited. And I know that Mack and Reed forbid me to attend.
Forbid!
As though they are the boss of me.
Mack, Reed, and Daria will all be there. And I’m stuck here, at home, all dressed up and nowhere to go. I’m not stupid, I know I’m not trained as an agent or a badass in the same way that they all are.
Technically, I’m not trained in anything at all. And I know they worry about my safety and having to keep an eye on me at the same time as trying to do their jobs. But I believe I can be helpful, at least I was during the engagement party.
Plus, I can’t imagine it would hurt anything if I were to just drive to the church, park across the street, and keep a lookout. On the sly. To make sure nothing weird happens that they might not be aware of since they are all inside the church.
I nod in agreement with myself, my mind made up. I grab my car keys and am out the door.
Apparently, you need to have an invitation to get within a block of the church where the ceremony is being held. Cars have been detoured blocks in all directions and foot traffic around the perimeter has been halted all together.
Not only am I not parked in my nice warm car across the street from the church, ready to watch for any nefarious behavior, I’m five blocks to the south with a view of nothing. If I didn’t already know why the wedding couple needs so much security, I would think this was total overkill. But when you are as wealthy as Laurel’s family is, I suppose there’s always someone who has it out for you
.
I exit my car anyway and begin the jaunt to the church. Or as close as I’ll be able to get. The sidewalks are filled with people and the streets with law enforcement. I think I read that some people in her family are in politics as well, but I can’t be certain. I find it hard to believe that all these people are just hoping for a glance of Laurel or David.
I stop a girl on the sidewalk. “What’s going on?” I ask. “Do you know why all the security and crowds?”
“Some fancy wedding. There’s supposed to be a ton of celebrities in attendance. I’m sure everyone just wants a glimpse of someone famous.” She shrugs and then keeps walking.
I admit I’m a little jealous. I would love to have a wedding with celebrities in attendance. Someone who everyone else knows from afar, knows me well enough to celebrate my nuptials. It doesn’t get much better than that. Oh, unless I’m the famous one. That would be better. Then I wouldn’t even realize how famous my celebrity friends are because I’d be right there with them.
Maybe I’ll run into a celebrity on the street and they’ll invite me to be in a movie and then I’ll become famous. Or we’ll just be friends and I’ll be in the crew. The entourage. We’ll be besties. Except then I’d have to stop being besties with Daria, and I would miss her.
I trip over an uneven spot in the sidewalk and fall to my knees. My purse opens and things go flying.
“Fuck! That’s what I get for daydreaming!” I scramble to gather my belongings while at the same time ignore the pain in my knees.
A pair of large feet in dull black shoes stop in front of me, and a hand appears on the sidewalk next to mine. “Here, let me help.”
He gets my things together much faster than I was able to, then holds his other hand out to me. “May I assist?”
I take the hand and scramble to stand. Luckily nothing embarrassing was in my purse. Just the bare minimum, lipstick, compact, pepper spray, phone, keys, money, identification.
“Thank you, Officer”— I search his chest for a badge. His extremely broad and obviously muscular chest—“Reynolds.”
“Anything to help a pretty lady.” He smiles and winks.
I all but bat my eyelashes. “Why thank you, kind sir.” I twist my upper body back and forth a bit, then hold my hand out once more. “Quinn Foster.”
“Officer Burt Reynolds.”
We shake, his hand is warm, and his grasp is firm. My fingers feel almost dwarfed in comparison. I like looking at mine in his.
Then I realize what he just said and raise my head sharply. “Did you say—”
“Yep. He was my mom’s favorite. She thought it would be a nice tribute to the man. I’ve received my fair share of heckling over the years. It was either become a cop or a bully.”
I giggle at that.
Officer Burt Reynolds is good looking. Sadly, he looks nothing like the actor Burt Reynolds, but that doesn’t diminish from his attractiveness. “Your mom has good taste.”
“You too, huh?” He smiles as he asks.
I nod.
“What’s your poison? Smokey and the Bandit? Cannonball Run? The Longest Yard?”
“I’m a Smokey and the Bandit girl all the way. I wanted nothing more than to be Sally Field, leave my goofy groom at the altar, and race off into the sunset in a black Trans-Am.”
“My mom would like you.”
He looks at me. I look at him. A shiver runs through me. Not unlike what I feel when I’m with Reed.
Oh shit! Reed!
I almost forgot about him. And the wedding. And making sure everything is okay for my friends, the assassins. What am I doing talking to a cop?
I look around to make sure no one has seen us. Wouldn’t do for me to be associated with the law when I’m a vigilante now.
Oh. Except Reed is the law.
Shit, again.
“Reynolds!” Another police officer calls out to him. Burt turns back and holds a finger in the air signaling he’ll be right there.”
“Well, it was very nice meeting you, Quinn Foster. Maybe we’ll cross paths again.”
“Maybe.” I wave and watch his tight butt in those regulation black slacks as he walks out of my life. It’s for the better. I can’t handle juggling two law enforcement agents with my new career. That would be career suicide.
I head in the direction of the church. Even if the streets are closed, maybe there’s a way that I can sneak in and still be of some assistance. I hit a roadblock and I turn to head east alongside the perimeter trying to find a weakness in the barrier. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long.
A young officer is by himself near the far corner. From where he is, it’s only a block to the church. I can see the steeple. I move forward, intent on just walking by to see what he will do.
“Excuse me,” I say as I move past him between the sawhorses and caution tape.
“Excuse me,” he says. Then he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Ma’am? You can’t go in there.”
I stop and turn to face him. “But I’m a guest, and I’m terribly late. If I don’t take this shortcut, I’ll never make it.”
“Do you have your invitation?”
“I’m afraid not. I tripped and dropped my purse a few blocks back, and my invitation fell into a puddle. Where it was stepped on. By a lot of people. And torn to shreds.”
He looks at me, brow raised.
“Another officer helped me when I fell, Officer Burt Reynolds.” I giggle, not being able to help myself.
“It is pretty funny that’s his name, huh?”
“Yes. You know his mom was a huge fan. She and I have that in common.” I wait to see what he will do. It’s obvious he’s conflicted.
“You can call Officer Reynolds and ask him. He didn’t seem too busy over there. At least not too busy for you.” I shuffle from foot to foot and look furtively in the direction of the church.
He looks me up and down, then smiles. “Go on ahead.”
“Thank you!” I gush. “Thank you so much! I really appreciate it.” I take off at a slight jog in the direction of the church. This could not have worked out better. Wait until Mack and Reed see that I got in anyway. Daria will be so impressed. And now I’ll be able to help the gang. Something I should have been allowed to do in the first place.
I reach the large, extended exterior stairwell leading up the front doors of the church and do my best to Rocky run to the top, not wanting to waste a second. There aren’t many people around, aside from security, so I’m sure the ceremony has either begun or is about to. I pause at the oversized wooden entrance doors and smooth my skirt. Check to make sure my hair is still in place, then run my fingers under my eyes to catch any makeup that may have melted or slid.
Here goes nothing.
With a mild grunt, I pull open the door.
36
Reed
David’s ceremony dragged the fuck on and was boring as hell. I’m sure that if I cared about him at all, I wouldn’t feel that way. Maybe I would have been touched by the love celebrated here, the union of two people coming together for a lifetime, blah, blah, blah. But I don’t care about him, so for me the ceremony was excruciating.
We take a few pictures at the front of the church, then pile into the extra-long limousine for the ride to the reception. The rest of the guests are transported to the hotel by bus. Over one hundred of them idling around the perimeter of the church grounds, pumping non-stop diesel fumes into the air.
David pops open a bottle of champagne and pours a glass for everyone.
“A toast.” He raises his in the air and waits for us all to follow. “To my beautiful bride, thank you for lighting my life with your love.”
The bridesmaids release a collective sigh as Laurel leans in and kisses David. But he’s not finished yet.
“And to my best man.” Glasses raise once again. “The lifetime of loyalty and friendship that we share is priceless to me. You may have a price for it, but I don’t.” He chuckles at his non-existent joke and winks a
t me.
Fucker winks.
Because if I’m not mistaken, he just offered me a bribe.
Is this so I won’t bring him in?
It’s too late for that. Even if I were the kind of guy to take a bribe, which he knows I’m not, he doesn’t have a way out through me anymore. If he ever did.
I drain my glass of champagne, tempted to chuck the flute against the wooden bar top alongside me just to watch it break. Instead, I watch as David opens another bottle and refills all our glasses, and then I toast along to more bullshit commendations and murmurs of devotion spilling out of David’s mouth. The only way I’m getting through this day is to tune everything out. Or to get drunk. Or both.
On duty or not.
Mack is waiting just inside the reception hall after I enter and wade through the pomp and circumstance of the wedding party introductions. Immediately followed by the first dance.
“How you doing?” he asks.
“Not nearly drunk enough,” I mumble.
“Ha. You and me both. I hate weddings.”
“Then why’d you bring Daria?”
“Cover. This way I don’t look like security. I can blend with the guests better, see if I can suss out any of Tremblay’s cronies.”
“You could have used another agent for that.”
“We don’t have a female agent attractive enough. No one would believe I was with a dog.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Takes one to know one.” He claps me on the back, then snags two glasses of champagne from a passing server and hands one to me. “This other one is for you too; I just don’t want to look like a chump standing here empty handed.”
I laugh and say, “Thanks, man,” then drain the champagne in my glass and trade him for the full one. “Now you’re a chump with a full hand of an empty glass.” I laugh some more. Mack raises one brow at me. I swear he learned to do that after people started comparing him to the actor, The Rock.