by Norris, Kris
Six feigned surprise, had their tickets switched before the guy crumpled, then caught the man an inch away from hitting the floor. Six made a point of checking his pulse, loosening his tie. His fiancée cried out, going to her knees beside them. Palms roving over his face as she called out, “Steve,” over and over.
Six waved at the man who’d given out the tickets. “I think we could use some water.” He caught the woman’s attention. “Probably just dehydrated from standing here all this time. I’m sure he’ll be fine once he fully comes ‘round. Just see he drinks lots.”
She nodded, thanking him, damn it, completely focused on Steve. The ticket all but forgotten as she watched the hotel employee check the man’s pulse—fan his face then get out his cell.
“Number ninety-nine. Our next lucky couple please raise your hand.”
Six stood, pushed down the roll of guilt then raised his hand. “That’s us. We’re next.”
Kam frowned, nearly falling against him when he grabbed her arm. “Next? Next for what?”
“Our wedding, sweetheart. About time we tied the knot, don’t you think?”
Chapter Six
Kameron groaned as pain thrummed through her head, the loud banging echoing inside her skull making every nerve feel overstimulated. She palmed her temples, blinking open her eyes. Yellow light brightened the curtains of the large picture window on the far wall, the splash of color igniting another jolt of pain. She closed her eyes, determined to drift back into the numbing darkness when more banging resonated through the room.
She squinted at the door, muttering under her breath when she realized it wasn’t her head that was pounding but some jackass trying to break down the door. She rolled off the bed, stumbling halfway across the room before gaining her balance. She tripped against the wall when the floor seemed to tilt, finally righting herself as the jerk slammed a fist against the door, again.
“Damn it, Kameron, open the door.”
Cannon?
She fiddled with the handle, taking a few tries to unlock the damn thing, before opening the door. Cannon filled the doorway, arms crossed. Eyes narrowed. He looked like he had whenever she’d crossed paths with him in the service. Lethal. An air of death around him. The kind of man who could kill an entire squad before breakfast without breaking into a sweat. He’d gotten less intimidating since meeting Jericho, but that wasn’t what was coming through, now. He was in prime soldier mode, and it was all directed at her.
She leaned against the door, using it to help keep herself upright. Everything hurt. Though, compared to her head, it didn’t seem all that important. “Cannon?”
“About time you opened up.” He smiled. “Nice glitter.”
“Excuse me?”
Cannon stared at her furrowed brow. The utter lack of understanding she knew shaped her features then huffed. “Guess those drugs aren’t out of your system fully.”
“Drugs?”
A laugh. “Can we come in?”
“We?”
Cannon just shook his head, stepping back. That’s when she realized he wasn’t alone. Jericho, Colt, and Ellis stood behind him, all three staring at her with the same odd expression.
Cannon waved them in, stopping beside her. “Where’s Six?”
“Six?” Damn, she needed to stop repeating everything Cannon said, but nothing made sense. Like walking into a movie halfway through. She scanned the room, finally taking in the decor. Call her crazy, but this didn’t look like the motel room they’d been heading for. In fact, it looked luxurious. Romantic. “Um, I…”
A hand on her shoulder had her jumping—spinning back toward the door, her arms lifting into her boxing stance out of sheer habit. Stunning brown eyes filled her gaze. A healthy dose of scruff lining his jaw. He had a bruise on the left side of his forehead, a small red line in the center. Though, his tousled hair covered most of it, the messy locks adding to the sexy vibe he had going on. And just like that, nothing else seemed important other than standing there looking into Six’s face.
Six smiled, and her treacherous heart leaped inside her chest. Freaking hurt, too. That hard thump that stole her breath. Made her sway.
“Right here, buddy.” His grip tightened, those gorgeous eyes narrowing. “You okay?”
She nodded because what else could she do? Admit she could barely stand up because he shook the ground beneath her feet? Made her feel as if it was tilting off-center? Toward him?
Six sighed. “Something tells me you’re still out of it.” He held up his hand. “How many fingers?”
That got her moving. Stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t be an ass. I can see just fine.”
“You sure? Thought you might still be swimming with Captain Morgan.”
“Please, I didn’t drink that much last night…” And yet, there was a big empty space inside her head where last night should have been. Just a wash of fog with the odd murky image tossed in. Nothing concrete.
“Wasn’t the amount, sweetheart. It was the damn GHB they spiked your drink with.”
“GHB?” Damn, she’d done it, again.
She took two more steps back then turned to face everyone. Three deep breaths and she’d calmed the pounding in her chest. The result of Six, not her anxiety. “Okay. Obviously, I’m missing something important so this is where someone starts talking.” She stared pointedly at Six. “Who spiked my drink? What the hell happened to your head? And where are we? Because I’m pretty damn sure this isn’t the crappy motel we were heading for.”
Six moved toward her, giving her body a slow appreciative sweep. “Kam…”
She glanced down, inhaling sharply. “Why am I wearing a white dress shirt?” And nothing else!
Another smile, only this one wasn’t warm and welcoming. It was sinful. Pure sex appeal morphed into a tilt of his lips. “The short answers are—that asshole at the bar who bought you that raspberry concoction spiked it. He also gave me the lump. And you’re right. This isn’t the motel. It’s the Paris hotel on the Strip. And you’re wearing my dress shirt because I didn’t think you’d be comfortable sleeping in the wedding dress you picked out.”
A dull roar sounded in her head and, for the first time in her life, Kam was completely speechless. Nothing. Not a word, a phrase. Nothing but that low, helpless noise echoing inside her. Threatening to drop her to the floor.
Strong arms wrapped around her. Pulling her against Six’s chest. “Breathe. The last thing you need is to pass out.”
Kam shoved against his hold, glaring at him when he stepped back—looked as if he didn’t understand why she was so flustered. “Pass out? That’s what you’re worried about? Because I’m a bit more preoccupied with why I was wearing a freaking wedding dress!”
He shrugged. “The same reason you’re wearing that ring.”
“Ring? I don’t have a… Holy, crap.” There on her hand. A diamond ring, glittering in the light. Tiny colored squares reflecting off the surface.
She looked over at Six—searched his hand. Christ, he had on a silver band. A matching silver band.
Six darted over, catching her as her knees gave out. “Let’s get you sitting down.”
She nodded, allowing him to help her over to the table and chairs set in the corner of the room. Purposely avoiding the chair with the wedding dress—apparently her wedding dress—draped over the back.
Six crouched down to her level. “You really don’t remember any of it, do you?”
“Remember what? My last clear memory is of us at the bar. You were teasing me about how hungover I’d be this morning, which I ignored because I hadn’t even drank that much.”
“Enough you started singing along with the jukebox.” He chuckled. “Didn’t realize you knew the words to every John Legend song.”
She ignored the comment, snippets of the music playing in her head. “So, I sing when I get a bit tipsy. That’s no great secret. But it doesn’t explain how we got to the Paris hotel, and why we’re wearing matching
jewelry.” She stared directly into his eyes. “It’s a joke, right?”
Another killer smile, then he was rifling through his pocket—removing a piece of paper. Kam focused on it as he placed it directly in front of her. A damn marriage certificate with their names signed in ink.
She shook her head, pointing to the signatures. “This can’t be real.”
“The diamond, not so much. Classy zirconia, and all they had on short notice. Though, the bands are sterling silver.”
“I meant the certificate.”
“Afraid so.”
“No. This is Vegas. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Actually, it’s legal. And binding. Not that it can’t be changed, but…for right this moment, we’re husband and wife.” He smiled sweetly at her. “You were going to take my last name, right?”
“Shut up.”
She gained her feet, regretting it when the world tipped, again, and she swayed to her right. Six caught her, tugging her against him as he wrapped his arms around her—just like before. Only, it felt different. Dangerously intimate. She closed her eyes, doing her best not to breathe in the scent of cologne and man. Her stomach fluttered, but she didn’t think it was from the drug—the damn Gamma Hydroxybutyrate—he’d mentioned. She was married. And not to just anyone. To Six. The same guy she’d been secretly lusting over for the past six months. The one she was pretty damn sure she’d fallen in love with.
“Breathe, Kam. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Fine? They were… Christ, they were married. That wasn’t close to being fine. But it was more the thought that he’d want to rescind it as quickly as possible that soured her stomach. The knowledge that she’d lose this—lose him—before she’d even gotten a chance to experience it. To love him the way she’d been dreaming about.
A voice clearing behind them. “Do you two need some alone time before we all get clued in on what, exactly, went down last night?”
Cannon. And she didn’t miss the humor in his voice.
Six sighed, again, pulling away enough to look down at her. “Come on. Sit back down, and I’ll explain everything.” He glanced toward Cannon. “To everyone.”
She all but fell into the seat. Though she did her best to shove everything down, she couldn’t quite pull it off. Couldn’t stop from alternating her gaze between his hand and hers. She wanted to be angry. But it wasn’t anger warming her chest. Making it hard to breathe. Excitement. Overwhelming happiness. Both vied for position inside her. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d let it out. Admit that this felt more than good. It felt right.
Six patted her shoulder. “Coffee?”
Another nod because if she opened her mouth—if she did anything but focus on holding herself together—she’d start screaming. That or she’d be begging Six to consummate their damn vows. The ones she didn’t remember speaking. At a wedding that she couldn’t remember attending.
Kam thought Ellis would make her way over—offer some comforting words. But she stayed oddly distant, settling with Colt on the edge of the bed. Cannon moved over to the window, gazing out as he leaned against the wall, Jericho at his side. Kam didn’t miss the smile that shaped Cannon’s mouth when Jericho took his hand—held it in hers.
Great, now she had to stare at two of the happiest couples she’d ever met. All the while wondering how this was going to play out. How quickly Six would be asking for annulment papers. And shit, she should be, too. But staring down at the certificate, at the ring… It made her heart pound. Her pulse race. And it didn’t feel like fear. More the unsettling effect he’d had on her since the day they’d met. Since he’d torn out half his stitches trying to keep her from getting abducted by a bunch of rogue CIA assholes.
Seemed to be a recurring trend for her. Getting into trouble she couldn’t get herself out of. Wasn’t that why she’d done all that training? Pushed herself beyond any limits she’d previously set? All to be able to stand against any enemy force? Yet, this was the second time in several months that she’d had to be rescued.
Just her luck, they’d be calling her Daphne.
A mug appeared in front of her, followed by Six taking the seat next to her, casually shifting the dress over so he didn’t crumple it. “Drink. Lance has been monitoring everything from the adjoining room. He’s gone to grab some food.”
“Lance? As in Deputy U.S. Marshal Jeremy Lance? But when—”
He silenced her with a firm finger over her lips. “Let’s just start at the beginning. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Six smiled, ignited another round of fluttering in her stomach, then started talking. About the altercation with Martin. Running into Lance. Sharing drinks then stumbling back to the hotel. When he got to how they’d been kidnapped—shoved into a Suburban, hands bound—she nearly fell out of the chair. She couldn’t remember any of it. Maybe the odd snapshot. Her lying against Six. His heartbeat echoing inside her head. Running along the Strip. Riding in an elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower replica. Then…
Oh god. There was a fleeting memory of staring into his eyes. Saying she’d be his for the rest of her life. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. Some sappy love song had been playing in the background—probably another John Legend song if she’d had any say in it—then he’d sealed their lives together with a kiss.
Six continued. More about how he hadn’t had any other options. That his priority had been getting her someplace safe so he could call in some backup. How he’d finally gotten ahold of Lance, and the man had used his credentials to set up video surveillance in the room while she’d slept off the effects of the drugs, and he and Six had waited in the adjoining suite. Had watched, hoping to confront the men if they decided to try, again. But, they hadn’t returned. Nothing but happy couples stumbling into the rooms. Then…
Then, Cannon and his entourage had arrived, and Kam knew the rest. Everything except where the hell they went from here? How she could look at Six and not want to kiss him, again—only one she’d remember vividly. In Technicolor and Dolby sound. Not fleeting, foggy images she couldn’t attest weren’t a dream.
Six cupped her hand. Gave it a squeeze. “Hey. You okay?”
She groaned, palming her face with her other hand. “Ask me, again, once I’ve lived this down. I can’t believe I didn’t realize the damn drink was spiked.”
“Hey, this isn’t on you. I should have suspected something was up when that asshole didn’t even try to hit on you. I’m the one who’s got to live it down. Shit, I even finished the drink off—compromised both of us.”
“And how were you supposed to know?”
He shrugged, and she knew he was referring to that sixth sense of his. The one she wasn’t sure she wanted to know about.
A thought sprang to mind, and she narrowed her eyes. “Wait. How did we manage to win the raffle? That sounds like a pretty odd coincidence.”
“I might have gotten a sense of who the winning couple would be. Exchanged our tickets.”
“Are you saying you psychically deduced the winner then stole their ticket?”
“I’m saying that I did what needed to be done to keep our asses in one piece.” He stood. “We can undo it, Kam. It’s not like you have to stay married to me.”
Was that anger in his voice? Hurt? Because it sounded like it, but that would mean…
Kam couldn’t go there. Couldn’t delve into the possibility that he might share her feelings. That he’d been fighting them as long as she had. Because the man was breathtaking. Could have any woman he set his sights on. Thinking he’d want her—the broken, reassembled version who hadn’t felt anything in a long time—seemed unlikely.
Kam pushed to her feet beside him, needing to say something to quell the panic thrumming through her veins—that he’d get her to sign papers, right here. Right now. “I think us being married is the least of our concerns.”
“Agreed.” Cannon, not that she’d noticed when he and the others had moved in around them. “And u
ntil we figure out who’s behind this—what they want—it might be safer to uphold the ruse. Might make them think twice about a repeat attempt if they know you’ll be at her side, Six. Because there’s no way this was a random attack. They were targeting you, Kam. And I doubt we’ve seen the last of them.”
“This is crazy. Even if I could remember last night, I don’t know why anyone would be after me.”
“I do.”
They turned as Deputy Marshal Lance’s voice sounded from the doorway. He was standing in the threshold, holding up a manila envelope. It was crumpled and dirty, what looked like blood splattered across one side. Damn, she hadn’t heard him come in. Hadn’t realized he had a keycard, though obviously, he did. Six had said they’d been doing surveillance. Had taken turns checking up on her—ensuring she was safe. That she hadn’t suffered a concussion or any other injury during the night’s events.
Lance stepped inside then shut the door. “And based on what’s inside, you’re right. This is only the beginning.”
Chapter Seven
Six shoved his hair back, using the motion to stem the restless energy strumming through his veins. Christ, he was wired. But not from Lance’s words. It was Kameron.
It was always Kameron.
Though, this time, he’d reacted to her reaction. While he hadn’t thought she’d be excited to learn they’d gotten hitched, he’d be lying if he said a part of him hadn’t hoped for it. That it didn’t sting thinking she wanted it undone. Probably as quickly as possible.
And hell, he should be wanting that, too. Should have the papers ready. Pens to spare sitting on the table so they could make everything right. While Cannon had a valid point, Six couldn’t help but wonder if they were testing fate by blindly continuing ahead. Except for the part where ending their marriage didn’t feel right. Not to him. And not just because her safety was at risk.
She might not remember their wedding, but he did. Vividly. As if his extrasensory perception had put all of his senses on high alert. Heightened the way her perfume had mixed with the scent of roses from her bouquet. The feel of the wind when it had lifted her hair off her shoulders, exposing a swath of creamy skin and the long sleek line of her neck. How the white dress had highlighted the blush still coloring her cheeks. He hadn’t known if it had been from the drugs, the run, or a by-product of her emotions because she’d been giddy. Happier than he’d ever seen her. And when she’d looked up into his eyes and said, “I do”…