The Wedding Steal

by Layla Valentine

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. Right now, all that matters is that I get you out of here.”

  Rachel grabbed my hand. “I’m not leaving without you.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t be worried about you while I’m trying to fight them off,” I said. “I need you to escape through the back door, cross the parking lot to the ravine that runs behind the building, and wait for me there.”

  “What if they have guns?” she asked, her eyes welling up with tears.

  I lifted my shirt and showed her the gun tucked into the waistband of my jeans. “I’ll be fine, and if not—”

  “Don’t say that. It’s too horrible to think about.”

  Rachel closed her eyes and shook her head. She looked moments away from plugging her ears and singing, “La la la la” to drown me out.

  I shook her just hard enough for her eyes to open and for her to look at me. “If I don’t meet you in ten minutes, take the car to the nearest bus station or airport and get out of here.”

  I pressed the keys into her hands, and I could tell she was reluctant to take them.

  “Please, Rachel,” I begged. “I just want you to be safe.”

  She took a deep breath and then suddenly, we were kissing. Our lips pressed together softly at first, and then her free hand was tangled in my hair and her body was arching against mine. I knew I didn’t have time for this, but if I didn’t make it out of this diner alive, I wanted this to be the last thing I did. Gently, I disengaged from her, and she gave me one last look over her shoulder before she walked out of the bathroom and took a left towards the back exit.

  I waited three beats and then opened the door, heading back into the diner and towards whatever awaited me there.

  Chapter 15

  Rachel

  I wanted to listen to what Colton told me to do. I wanted to hide and protect myself, but I couldn’t. Not while he was facing a group of men on his own. How could I cower in fear, knowing he was back in the diner fighting for both of our lives?

  As soon as I left the bathroom, I took a left and then ducked into the supply closet next door, hoping Colton wouldn’t see me go in. The smell of lemon cleaning agents immediately made my head spin, so I waited until I heard the bathroom door open and close again before I cracked the door slightly for the tiniest bit of fresh air. The crack in the door also allowed me to hear what was going on in the diner.

  Part of me kept expecting to hear gunshots ring out or screams to erupt, but it all sounded perfectly normal for a few minutes. It was all so quiet that a small part of me began to wonder whether Colton had been lying to me. Had he shooed me out of the restaurant because he was conferring with the enforcers? Was this still some elaborate trap that I didn’t yet understand?

  I could make out the distant sound of silverware banging around in the kitchen and the soft rock coming out of the fuzzy jukebox speakers. And I could even hear the shouts of the toddler and his parents sitting at the table behind ours.

  I was planning how to go about warning them without drawing attention to myself when I heard the first sign of trouble. There was a loud crash and then silence. No more silverware, no more music, no more idle chitchat. Just silence. Followed closely by another crash. Then, screams.

  As soon as the first scream erupted, I slipped through the door and flattened myself against the wall, inching down the hallway towards the main part of the restaurant. I could see the group of teenage girls cowering beneath their booth. One of them, a girl with a bright blue streak in her blond hair, made eye contact with me and waved her hand, gesturing for me to run. I pressed my finger to my lips in an effort to keep her from drawing any attention to me. If I was going to be useful at all, it had to be a surprise, because if anyone saw me coming, they’d be able to overpower me in a second. Surprise was my secret weapon.

  I reached the end of the hallway and hid behind a cart of dirty dishes, peeking around the corner just enough to see Colton standing in the middle of the restaurant with two overturned tables around him, facing off with two men dressed all in black. Two other men were on the floor. One of them was unconscious with a bloody cut down his forehead, but the other was rolling on the floor, beginning to rouse.

  Had Colton fought off the two men by himself? He didn’t have his gun out, and none of the other men had their weapons out, which seemed like a good sign. As soon as there was a gun involved, things would get ugly, fast. Perhaps Colton felt the same way and that’s why he’d opted for hand-to-hand combat.

  Colton held his hands out in front of him and tried talking to the men. “Just let me talk to Tony. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. Hell, I don’t even think you understand what’s going on.”

  “We take orders,” the bigger of the two remaining men growled. “Unlike some people.”

  “I take orders when they’re right. When they make sense,” Colton said.

  The smaller man held out a knife, the blade pointed at Colton’s chest. They were standing ten feet apart, but the sight still sent my heart racing.

  “Where’s the girl?” the man asked.

  “I don’t have her,” Colton said. “I’ve told you.”

  The bigger man kicked over a chair next to him, and it flew into the glass-front dessert display case, sending shards of glass into all of the pies and cakes. “We saw you with her. We know she’s here.” The man spun in a circle and shouted with a hand held to his mouth. “Hey, Jenna. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  It was strange to know he was talking to me, even though he wasn’t really talking to me. If Tony’s goons found me, they wouldn’t care about the name on my driver’s license or my debit card. They would only care about carrying out their orders.

  The man turned back to Colton. “If you don’t tell me where she is in ten seconds, I’ll kill you and find her myself.”

  The couple with the toddler were hiding behind the counter. The man had his arms wrapped around his wife and son, and for the first time all morning, the boy was being quiet.

  “You have the wrong girl,” Colton repeated. “Tony is lying to you about why he wants her.”

  “He didn’t tell us why he wants her,” the larger man said. “He only told us he wants her.”

  Colton’s beautiful face wrinkled in confusion and disbelief. “And that doesn’t bother you? Acting blindly? Don’t you want to understand what you’re doing and why?”

  “Ten. Nine. Eight…”

  Clearly, the man didn’t care, and I knew I only had a few seconds to act before everything went crazy. Before Colton was fighting a two-against-one fight I wasn’t convinced he could win, given there was a knife involved.

  I leaned around the corner further and was relieved the see the two men weren’t facing my direction. The man was still counting, slowly, and as I surveyed the scene, I looked up and saw Colton looking at me. He tore his eyes away in an instant, not wanting to draw any attention my way, but I could see the tension inching up his neck. His hands clenched at his sides and his face turned a shade of red I’d never seen on a human body.

  I knew he wanted me to turn around and leave. If he could have, he would have yelled at me for disobeying him, for putting myself in danger. But he couldn’t yell at me, and even if he could have, I wouldn’t have cared. The same reason he wanted me to leave the diner was the same reason I had to stay—I cared about him. We cared about one another. What we’d been through in the last twelve hours was more dramatic than most people in new relationships go through in months. Perhaps ever.

  I had to stay and fight with him.

  “Six. Five.”

  I moved back around to the back of the dish cart and slowly began wheeling it out from the hallway and across the floor, peeking around every few seconds to be sure I hadn’t been spotted. The two goons were standing with their legs slightly parted, hands down at their sides, one of them still clutching his knife. They were too busy trying to look intimidating to worry about their surroundings, which I planned to use t
o my advantage.

  As I wheeled the cart across the floor, I knew I had a decision to make. One of the men was significantly larger than Colton, but the other had a knife. Which was more of a danger? The large man felt like the superior of the two. He’d done most of the talking, and he was the one making the threats. So, I aimed the cart towards him.

  The back wheel wobbled slightly and let out a squeak every couple feet. I tried to lift the cart on that corner as I pushed it, but then I was at risk for the dishes stacked precariously on the bottom rack to topple over and crash to the floor, announcing my plan. So, I continued pushing it, wincing with each squeak.

  “Three. Two.”

  I was only a couple feet behind the large man when I stood up and looked at Colton. His eyes were dark and narrowed, and his lips—the same lips I’d been kissing that morning—were pulled back in a sneer. He radiated danger. I was on his side and still the hair on the back of my neck stood up, my instincts telling me to steer clear of him.

  He glanced at me only once, his eyes shifting quickly away, gesturing for me to run. I shook my head and waited for the man to finish counting.

  “One.”

  I gripped the handle of the cart, tugged it backward a tiny bit, and then threw it forward as hard as I could. In the same moment, Colton rushed forward and shoved the larger man in the chest. He stumbled backwards and may have been able to catch himself before falling, had the dish cart not buckled his knees.

  The man went completely horizontal, skidded across the top of the cart—sending ceramic coffee mugs and plates with congealed syrup to the floor where they shattered—and then crashed over the other side, tumbling head over heels before landing flat on his stomach.

  As I’d hoped, the man with the knife froze, staring at his associate with his mouth hanging open. Colton, however, did not freeze. He grabbed a plate from the table next to him and hurled it at the man’s arm like a Frisbee. The plate hit its target, and the knife fell and clattered across the carpet.

  “Rachel! Run!” Colton was charging at the smaller man, moving towards him like a football player ready to make a sack, but he was still worried about me.

  I turned and ran, but not towards the exit. First, I skidded around the counter. The couple and their toddler all flinched as I rounded the counter, but the man recovered quickly and threw an arm across his family.

  “Go now,” I said, signaling them towards the back exit like someone directing a plane down the runway. “They don’t have a gun.”

  The man stood up, peeked over the counter at the mess and Colton wrestling with the smaller man, and then quickly grabbed his son from his wife and cradled his small head under his chin. I reached for the wife’s hand and helped her to her feet.

  “Call the police,” I whispered to her as she passed.

  She nodded, then the man grabbed her hand and they sprinted across the diner and through the back door. I wanted to follow them, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

  Colton had pinned the smaller man down and was raining punches on his face. The man tried to block them with his arms, but he was only partially successful. Every few punches, I heard the sickening crunch of knuckles on bone and winced.

  I came out from behind the counter and stuck close to the back wall, not wanting to accidentally get into the middle of the fight. The man with the gash across his forehead was laying only a few feet away. His chest rose and fell, but his eyes were firmly closed. The other man had rolled from his stomach to his back and was trying to stand up, but his arms shook as he tried to push himself to a seated position and he collapsed to the floor like a house of cards in a stiff breeze. As I passed him, I gave him a solid kick to the side, figuring that I had to do what I could to keep him from rejoining the fight. Colton had enough on his hands without adding another set of meaty fists to the fight.

  The three teenage girls weren’t looking at me as I crossed the room towards them. Their eyes were locked on Colton and the smaller man, rivers of mascara running down their cheeks. One of the girls had her phone to her ear, relaying what was happening to whoever was on the other line in a trembling voice.

  “Run,” I said, leaving no room for arguing. “Go now. Get out.”

  The girl with the blue streak in her hair stood up quickly and pushed past her friend to get out from under the table. She had clearly wanted to run but needed someone else to give her the go-ahead. The other two girls hesitated.

  “Go,” I said.

  The girl on the phone cast her eyes to the two black-clad men laying closest to them on the floor.

  “They’re out cold,” I said, waving a dismissive hand in their direction. “Forget about them and run.”

  Slowly, the girls began to crawl out, and I backed away to give them more space to leave. As soon as the girls were gone, I’d leave. From what I could tell, the employees had all bailed, probably through a back exit in the kitchen, and the elderly men in the back of the diner had already left, either while I was in the bathroom before Tony’s goons showed up or when things first started going wrong. Either way, they didn’t need my help. The only people left in the diner were Tony’s men and Colton.

  One of the girls made it out and ran for the hallway, and the girl with the phone was halfway out of the booth when Colton yelled for me.

  “Rachel!”

  I started to turn around, but before I could, a train hit me.

  I slammed into the floor, a sharp pain shooting through my shoulder and down my back, and I couldn’t breathe. The bigger of the two men had woken up without me noticing, and now, he was on top of me, crushing my lungs. I struggled to roll over so I could get my arms out from under me and try to fight him off, but his meaty hands clamped around my upper arms and pinned them to my sides.

  “You’re coming with us, girly. Might as well relax and accept it.” His breath was acidic and hot on my neck.

  I kicked my legs, trying to make some kind of contact with him, but the man had his shin across my calves, completely incapacitating me.

  I couldn’t see Colton anymore, but I could still hear him and the smaller man fighting. Tables toppled over and more dishes shattered. The diner was being torn apart. I could only hope the police were on their way.

  “Don’t leave me, Bruce,” the man fighting Colton shouted. I assumed Bruce was the massive man pinning me to the floor.

  “I can’t stick around,” he yelled back, screaming the words in my ear and making my ear drum ring. “Either finish him or get left behind. We have a job to complete.”

  He was going to leave without his friends. The man wanted to load me up in his SUV and leave immediately, which meant Colton wouldn’t be able to save me—not while he was busy trying to save himself.

  I thrashed as much as I could while being flattened to the floor by a half-giant. My body vibrated with fear and adrenaline and the overwhelming urge to escape. I should have fled when Colton told me to. I should have left and found somewhere to hide. Then, maybe he could have escaped and outrun the goons rather than fight them. Shame clawed at my chest and brought tears to my eyes. Had I ruined everything? Had I blown our chance of escape?

  The man on top of me squeezed me even harder, certainly leaving bruises around my arms, and leaned down so his lips were against my ear. “Stop fighting, or this will be much worse for you.”

  How could this get worse? I wanted to ask, except I was screaming too much to speak.

  I shouted as I strained against his hold, desperately trying to break free, though I knew it was useless. Colton was yelling in the background, but I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or the man holding me or the man he was fighting. Everything seemed to be happening too fast, too much, too loud.

  Then, there was a sound like a large gong being struck, and the weight on my chest was gone.

  I inhaled and rolled over to find the girl with the phone standing over me with a cast-iron skillet in her hands. Leftover bits of fried potatoes and scrambled eggs dirtied the inside of it. Then, I turned
and saw the large man lying on his back next to me.

  “You hit him,” I said, more as a way to understand what was happening.

  “I’ve only ever seen that in movies,” the astonished girl said, still holding the pan aloft with both hands.

  Then, I laughed. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. The mountain of a man had been overtaken by a teenage girl and a skillet.

  “Are you okay?” the girl asked, probably wondering if I’d completely lost my mind.

  I rolled to my knees and got up. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Your boyfriend is winning,” she said, pointing across the room.

  I followed her finger to where Colton was gripping the smaller man by the front of the shirt. He looked like a bloodied rag doll in Colton’s hands.

  Distant sirens broke through the sudden quiet of the restaurant.

  “Colton,” I said, grabbing his attention.

  He let go of the man and turned to me, his chest heaving from exertion. He had a few cuts across his cheekbones and a bruise on his jaw, but otherwise, he seemed unhurt.

  “We have to go,” I said urgently. Colton hadn’t done anything wrong, but being tied to this in any way was a bad idea. The police wouldn’t look kindly on anyone tied to any kind of business with the mob.

  Colton nodded in agreement as he crossed the room in what seemed like only a few steps, grabbed my arm, and moved towards the back door. I could hear the teenage girl following behind us.

  When we stepped outside, it felt like it should have been the middle of the night or storming. Instead, the sun was high in the bright blue sky, and birds were still chirping. Colton immediately began pulling me towards the car, but I slipped my hand from his grip and turned to the young girl who was moving towards her scared friends in the corner of the lot.

  “Don’t tell them what we look like,” I said. “Please.”

  The girl nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  I hated that I would never know the girl’s name. She had saved me. Colton may have been able to get to me in time, but maybe not. There was no way to know for sure. What I did know, though, was that I was incredibly grateful to her.