Trixie gasped and huddled behind Cherie. “What’s he doing?” she whispered.
With an offended expression, the officiant peered over his glasses at the grim-faced intruder. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Altering an official document is a crime, and certainly against Chappelle de l’Amour regulations.”
“Excuse me.” Vader took a firm step in Mackintosh’s direction, so that suddenly everyone’s attention shifted to the big fireman. Cherie clutched at the back of his T-shirt, trying to stop him. “I’ve been staring at that thing in your hand, and it doesn’t look like a real gun.”
“It’s a lot better than a gun.” Mackintosh opened his jacket and slipped the black object into a sling wrapped around his chest. “This here’s a remote control. I ain’t just an ignorant farmer. I can go online like anyone else, and I got fertilizer coming out my ears. There’s what you call an explosive device out in that waiting room, big enough to smash up this sinful homo chapel and everyone in it. Question is, who gets to leave and who’s gonna stay right here and get blown up?”
Chapter Thirty
Into the shocked silence, Vader addressed Cherie. “You know something? I’m starting to get why you were scared of him.”
But no more than a tiny smile twitched her mouth. She, along with everyone else, was riveted to the sight of Mackintosh’s hand hovering over his alleged remote control. Vader cocked an ear toward the waiting room, but the soundproofing in the chapel was so good, he couldn’t hear anything from outside the room. A crowd could be gathered out there, waiting for this endless not-quite-a-wedding to finish.
Vader thought rapidly. Keep everyone calm. Get control of the situation. If possible, contact the Las Vegas PD. Within seconds, he’d formulated a rough plan.
First step, keep talking. “I’m sorry, I hate to keep saying this, but how do we know it’s real? I think I saw something like it in my captain’s daughter’s toy box.”
“Is that what you think?” Mackintosh snarled. “Want me to test it?”
Vader lifted his hands. “No, no. You only get one shot at this. Once that bomb goes off—if it’s actually a bomb—all hell breaks loose, and no one gets what they want. Tell you what. Why don’t you let me look at the bomb? You know I’m a firefighter, right?”
“Saw you on YouTube shaking your ass.”
“Then you know I can probably confirm it’s a real bomb.” He had no expertise in explosive devices, but chances were Mackintosh didn’t know that. “Once I’ve confirmed that it’s real, then we’ll come back in here and take care of business. No one will have any doubts then.”
Mackintosh sneered at him. “You’re going to try something. Get me alone, then jump me.”
“No I’m not. Tell you what. You can tie my hands behind my back.” Demonstrating, he crossed his hands behind his rear, which had the benefit of giving him access to his back pocket, where he’d stashed his phone. Next step in his plan: Call the Las Vegas PD.
“No,” said Cherie sharply. “Don’t go anywhere with him, Vader. He’ll hurt you. We can’t take a chance. What do you want, Mackintosh?”
“I want my son to renounce his disgusting ways, I want that devil’s spawn to go to hell, and I want one of you Harpers to make good on Prophesize’s agreement. Humility’ll do just fine. She’s younger.”
Trixie, huddled behind Cherie, let out a little scream. Vader took advantage of the sound to reach deep into his back pocket for his phone. Luckily, his khaki pants were on the baggy side. He managed to maneuver his phone enough to flip it open.
“No,” said Cherie. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you. It’s better that way so Prophesize doesn’t worry about bigamy or divorce. I’ll marry you if you let Robbie and Jacob alone and if you promise not to hurt anyone.”
“No, Chastisement.” Robbie hurried down the aisle toward his father. “Jacob’s the one he hates. Pops, I’ll come home and marry whoever you want if you let Jacob live.”
Vader felt the situation slipping away. Once Mackintosh felt he had complete control, there would be no options left. He shifted into commander mode, calling on the authoritative tone he’d heard Captain Brody and Chief Roman use so well. “Stay where you are, Robbie.”
Robbie stopped in his tracks.
“No one does anything until we know what’s what with that so-called bomb. Right now, it’s an empty threat.”
He met Robbie’s frightened gaze, then Jacob’s, then Cherie’s and the others’, making sure everyone heard and understood. The poor officiant looked as if he were about to faint.
“Now.” He turned back to Mackintosh. “There’s one problem with your plan. Everyone here can testify that you coerced Cherie into marrying you. And you can’t alter a marriage license. The marriage won’t be valid. Right, Preacher?”
The officiant opened his mouth, possibly to point out once again that he wasn’t a preacher. But at Vader’s pointed look, he closed it again, and nodded. “That’s correct.”
“Hear that, Mackintosh? What good is a wedding that’s just going to get undone later? I suggest we make a deal. You let me check out that bomb, and everyone here will agree not to contest the marriage. As a gesture of good faith, Cherie will tie my hands behind my back so you know I won’t try anything.”
He crossed his wrists behind his back again.
Mackintosh’s suspicious gaze traveled from one to the other of them. Vader had no idea what was going on behind his back. Hopefully no one was staring at his ass, because his search for his phone must look pretty funny. He got his fingers around his phone and pressed the button that would speed dial his mother. He debated calling 911 instead, but a dispatcher wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of the overheard situation. His mother would recognize his number and she knew enough of the story to put everything together. At least, he hoped and prayed it was so. Besides, he’d told her to keep her phone handy, and she would.
As soon as he heard the faint ringing from his pocket, he started talking again to cover the sound.
“Think about it, Mackintosh. If the news gets out that you rigged up a bomb in the waiting room of the chapel of . . . what’s it called again? Cherie? Trixie? Anyone?”
“Chappelle de l’Amour,” said the officiant. “Weddings for every lifestyle.”
“Hear that, Mackintosh? A homemade fertilizer bomb at the Chappelle de l’Amour is going to be tabloid catnip. The news’ll be all over this shit. You think that YouTube video was popular, wait until this hits. No one will hold Cherie to that marriage. No, sir, the only solution is for you to show me the bomb and let me confirm that it’s the real thing. If you do that, we won’t make a fuss. Right, everyone?”
He pleaded silently that they’d follow his lead. Cherie spoke first. “That’s right. As long as you don’t hurt Vader when you show him the bomb, I’ll do whatever you say, Mackintosh.”
The man glanced around the chapel with loathing. “This place needs to get smashed right into hell. You do homo marriages here, don’t you?”
“Weddings for every lifestyle,” repeated the officiant, faintly.
“When I trigger that bomb, you’ll get what you’ve earned.” Mackintosh snarled the words in Jacob’s direction.
Vader spoke quickly, afraid the whole thing was about to go off track. “But you can’t trigger it yet, mister. You have to pick the right moment. Who’s in, who’s out, remember? You want your son back. Godly, like he was before. And you want a bride. You want things to go back the way they should be. Am I right?”
He spotted a gleam of agreement in the man’s deranged eyes.
“If you let him check the bomb, I’ll go with you, Pops,” said Robbie. “Without making any trouble.”
A smothered protest came from Jacob’s direction, but he clapped his hand over his own mouth to stop it.
“We have an agreement, then,” said Vader with all the supreme confidence he could muster. “Cherie, go ahead and tie me up so he knows I won’t make any wrong moves. Then we’ll take care of
this situation.”
“Don’t move, Chastisement,” said Mackintosh.
Vader held his breath. Would the man balk at his proposal? Maybe it didn’t matter at this point. Either his mother had heard everything and was already hopping online to contact the Las Vegas PD, or she’d never answered and he’d have to come up with Plan B. He carefully closed the phone so Mackintosh wouldn’t notice the strange lump in his rear pocket.
The minutes ticked away while Mackintosh deliberated. As far as Vader was concerned, he could take all the time he needed. Ginny would need time to contact the police, and the police would need time to get here.
Finally, with one hand hovering over the remote control, Mackintosh gestured to Cherie. “Do it.”
She stepped next to him. “Take your time,” he said under his breath.
“You’d better have a good plan,” she answered in the barest whisper. Something silky came around his wrists.
Under other circumstances, this could be interesting.
Cherie, bless her, took an ungodly amount of time tying his wrists. The first time, she pretended to mess it up, then had to try all over again. Vader kept mental track of the time. By now, the Vegas PD should have gotten Ginny’s call. It would take them another few minutes to get to the chapel.
She raised her voice. “Don’t you dare do anything reckless, Vader. You look at that bomb and you come right back.”
“You’re so bossy. Mackintosh, are you sure you want such a bossy woman? Explain something to me, sir. How come you’re so set on one of these two? Take it from me, they’re a lot of trouble.”
Mackintosh shifted his shoulders, exposing more of the remote control. The more Vader saw of it, the more real it seemed. In his mind, the stakes ticked higher. An unstable, vengeful man with a bomb was nothing to mess around with. “I been defied, conked on the head, brain-injured, and made a fool out of by those Harpers. Then they stole my son from me. They’re going to pay for what they did. Every last sinful act.”
Vader inwardly flinched at the thought of what Cherie would face under Mackintosh’s control. He couldn’t let the man win this. He’d die first.
“We didn’t mean to make a fool of you,” said Cherie. “But you can’t just make people marry someone they don’t want to. People should be able to choose who they want.”
Even though she didn’t mention Robbie, her meaning was crystal clear, and the worst possible thing she could say. Mackintosh’s face went dark and ugly. “No one should defy their own father. Not you, not no one.”
Distract him, distract him. Vader pretended to wince. “Easy there, cowgirl. What are you using on my wrists back there?”
“It’s Trixie’s wedding garter.”
Mackintosh gestured impatiently. “Enough of all that. Get over here, Fireman. Walk in front of me.”
With his hands fastened, Vader stepped away from Cherie and skirted around Mackintosh. “I always said it would take handcuffs to get me down the aisle.”
“Big joker, aren’t you?” Mackintosh prodded him in the ribs, which made him stumble to his knees.
Cherie cried out. “You leave him alone or the whole thing’s off!”
“Women,” Vader muttered to Mackintosh. “Always squawking about something.”
“Same goes for me, Pops,” shouted Robbie. “You treat him fair, or I stay here with Jacob.”
Mackintosh growled something vicious. Vader dragged out the process of righting himself as slowly as possible. By his mental calculations, someone ought to be on the scene by now. Hopefully they’d cleared the waiting room and the perimeter. But a little more time wouldn’t hurt.
When they reached the door, Mackintosh poked him in the back again. “You open it. Use those big muscles of yours. Look in the potted plant under the middle window.”
Heart pounding, with all his senses on high alert, Vader did as the man said. He pushed the door open a crack, enough to see lights flashing outside the window. Since he had a good six inches on Mackintosh, he immediately stepped forward to block his view. That gave him a glimpse of a dark bomb squad suit.
And that was all he needed. He spun around and bonked Mackintosh with a vicious head-butt, which sent stabs of pain through his own still-aching head. Then he kicked at Mackintosh’s right hand as it reached for the remote. The man crumpled to his knees. Vader kicked him onto his back, then stepped hard on his shoulder. Maybe the resulting crunch shouldn’t be satisfying, but it sure as hell was.
“All clear out there?” he yelled.
“Disarming the device,” someone shouted back.
When Mackintosh heard that, he tried to reach the remote with his left hand, but it was too late, because by now not only was Vader stepping on both arms, but Cherie was pinning Mackintosh’s hand to the floor with the weight of her entire body.
She looked mad enough to rip the man’s head off. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him, you fucking asshole,” she yelled at Mackintosh.
“That’s profanity,” said Vader primly.
“Hell yes, it is.”
No one could get Cherie to let go of Vader. Not the police, who stormed in and handcuffed Mackintosh. Not Trixie, who shadowed her like a scared kitten, even though Cherie kept telling her they never had to worry about Mackintosh again because he’d be in prison. Not Jacob or Robbie, though she did give them both a fierce, one-armed hug. Not Ginny, who insisted on a complete account of the episode over the phone. Luckily, Vader didn’t even try to make her let go. He kept his hand firmly latched to hers while he gave a statement to the police and fielded questions from the media.
A slew of TV cameras had appeared with astonishing speed. “Mr. Brown, the police are saying that your quick thinking likely saved many lives today. How did you know what to do in this dangerous situation?”
“Well, I’m a firefighter back in San Gabriel, California, and we’re trained to respond to all sorts of crazy situations. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, and luckily it all worked out.”
Cherie, hanging back, marveled at how calm and cool he seemed. He was a total natural in front of the camera.
“You’re certainly the hero of the hour, but apparently there’s a heroine too. Is it true your disabled mother called 911 from her wheelchair?”
“That’s right. Virginia Brown is my mom, and my personal hero.” Was he choking up? The cameras all seemed to zoom in a little closer. “I knew she’d know what to do. Since I can’t always be with her, we do safety drills back at home. It’s important to be prepared for any emergency. Even if you don’t have a fireman at home”—he winked—“you can do a lot to protect yourself.”
Honestly, it was as if someone had scripted it for him. And that wink . . . Cherie could just imagine all the females in the Las Vegas viewing area going gaga.
A female reporter with shellacked blond hair stepped forward. “My producer just informed me that you are one of the famous Bachelor Firemen. Is there a reason you’re here at the Chappelle de l’Amour? Something you’d like to share exclusively with our viewers?”
“Well . . .”
Vader turned toward Cherie and raised his eyebrows in a question as clear as if he’d spoken it aloud. She beamed back at him with all the love she never wanted to hide again. He grinned, then began to sink onto one knee.
“No!” she burst out. “Stop, Vader. Don’t.”
He straightened up and shoved his hands into his pockets. The slope of his shoulders, the tension of his jaw, the wariness in his eyes just about killed her. Quickly, she went on. “I know this is a wedding environment and you can’t ever resist those. But it’s my turn.”
His quickly indrawn breath echoed through the suddenly still chapel. She stepped forward and drew his hands from his pockets, clasping them between hers. Those broad, strong, blunt-fingered hands had always made her weak in the knees.
Okay, so doing this in front of a television audience wouldn’t be her first choice, but as a firefighter’s wife, she’d have to respond to all sorts of craz
y situations.
“Derek ‘Vader’ Brown,” she said in a low voice. The camera people stepped closer. “I love you more than you could ever imagine.” She searched for romantic words that would convey what was in her heart. “You’re the sunshine I want to wake up to. You’re the earth under my feet.” Wait, that didn’t sound right at all. The cameras were throwing her off. “What I mean is, with you, everything makes sense. Except me, I guess I’m not making much sense.” She drew in a deep breath, almost hoping a reporter or someone might interrupt, but no one breathed a word. Vader’s rough-hewn face gave nothing away. “You’re like a . . . an element. Earth, fire, water, and Vader. It’s like the planet would be unlivable without you.” Okay, now she was getting into some kind of environmental speech. She stumbled onward. “At least my planet would. If you let me, and if you’ll forget the dopiest proposal ever made, I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you.” Maybe she could salvage things with a lighter touch. “Save the planet, Vader. Will you marry me?”
She stopped talking and pressed one hand to her hot cheek. Was it possible for an entire body to feel embarrassed? Because hers was flushed from head to toe. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, not the fact that Trixie was jumping up and down next to her, or the fact that one of the camera people was muttering, “And we’re here live at the Chappelle de l’Amour . . .” or the fact that even the grinning bomb squad had stopped to watch. The only thing that mattered was Vader.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Please be my husband, and I’ll be your wife and love you and cherish you every day until death do us part.”
The officiant chose that moment to butt his head between them. “That part’s my line. And the Chappelle de l’Amour would be delighted to waive all wedding fees as a gesture of thanks for the groom’s courageous actions today.”
Vader put out a hand and, gently but firmly, pushed the officiant out of their line of vision. Impassive no longer, the look on his face sent starbursts of excitement through her system.
“No,” he said.
Four Weddings and a Fireman Page 30