by Shaye Marlow
“I was paid,” he blurted.
“Why were you after me? What were you paid to do with me?”
He swallowed. “I can’t tell you. Please.”
I ground my knee into his throat and wrenched on his ears.
“Okay, okay! We’d been instructed to scare you a little, drive you off. We were told to disable the plane.”
“By who?” When he didn’t answer, I hurt him a little, then repeated the question. “By. Who?”
“Him!” the guy cried, turning his head toward Zack.
I looked at him. “Zack? Why would—”
“Not him. Him,” the guy said.
We followed his gaze to Rory, who was awfully pale. He started to back away even as his mouth opened and words poured out. “No, no. He lies. He’d say anything—”
“He paid us,” the guy said. “Said he wanted the girl gone and his brother back.”
Zack stood up, and turned to Rory. “You paid them?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
“No! Zack, I would never—”
“They shot us down, Rory,” Zack said, advancing on his brother. “They were shooting at us. They could have killed us.”
“They weren’t supposed to disable the plane with you in it,” Rory cried.
I climbed off our captive as Zack lunged, grabbing his brother by the collar. He hauled him up onto his toes with a growl.
Rory clawed at his hands. “I told them not to hurt you,” he said. “Or her. I’m sure they were shooting around you.”
“Why, Rory?” Zack shook him. “Why would you—?”
“She was trying to steal you from me! Don’t you remember our pact, Zack? You and me against the world.”
Zack regarded him for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s sad. I’m not even surprised that you would betray me like this.”
“I betrayed you? She was the one who betrayed you. Betrayed us both, reporting back to her dad. That’s right,” he said, responding to my surprised look, “I know about your little phone calls. I’m not an idiot,” he said, sneering at his brother.
I wanted to jump to Zack’s defense, but the situation wasn’t as simple as that. Rory had spoken some truths. I’d done some shitty things, too.
Zack shook him. “You’ll call them off.”
Rory’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he nodded. “I’ll call them off.”
Zack, still glaring at his brother, didn’t even glance around at the sound of a boat. I did, because I wanted to make sure it wasn’t the shooters returning.
Instead, it was a boat full of people in formal wear. I gazed after them for a moment as they headed upstream. Nobody drove a boat around in a tuxedo. Unless…
“Uh, Zack? When is Ed’s wedding?”
“I don’t…” Zack shook his head.
“It’s today,” Rory said, still hanging from his hold. “This afternoon.”
“Have you finished that painting yet?” I asked.
“Shit. No.” Zack frowned, probably trying to catch up with current events. We’d been on the cusp of kitchen sex, then under siege, then chased our attackers off, then found out Rory’d paid them, then realized the wedding was happening and Zack still had a painting to finish. It was a lot to take in, and I wouldn’t have known quite how to react, or what to do with Rory, either. “We’ve gotta go,” he finally said. “And you’ll stay here, and think about what you’ve done.”
“And clean up the lube,” I said, thinking about the mess inside.
“And clean up the lube,” Zack echoed. “And cover the windows they shot out, you steaming piece of—” he started, hands tightening.
I put a gentle hand on Zack’s arm. “Have you told him about the bear?”
“No,” Zack said, and smiled. “I’ve agreed that we won’t hunt that bear,” he informed Rory.
“What?” Rory squawked. “Why would you—?”
“Frances agreed to stay, provided we don’t kill her bear.”
“Her bear? No. No, Zack. That was the reason for all of this. The flight lessons, everything. Think about our reputation. Our pride.”
“So we’re at the bottom of Ed’s little scoreboard. Who cares?”
“I care!” Rory yelled, and cracked his fist into Zack’s jaw, making him bump into me as he staggered.
Zack came back with a wild, fury-driven haymaker. His fist smashed into Rory’s face and sent him spinning to the ground. Curling where he’d fallen, Rory cupped his bleeding nose.
Zack crouched over him. “You… ass. You almost got Frances shot. I should do worse.” Zack grabbed him by the collar, and dragged his brother’s face close. “If you ever try to hurt Frances again, we’re done. I will leave, and you’ll be on your own. You understand?”
Eyes wet with tears, Rory nodded.
Making a sound of disgust, Zack pushed him away. He stood, then clasped my hand. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
FRANCES
I had packed one dress, just in case. I pulled it on along with an opal necklace and earrings, and swiped on some makeup. Leaving my room, I opted to navigate the lube-saturated astroturf on bare feet.
Zack was already piling paints into the boat when I emerged. I picked my way across the yard, smiling as I took in his outfit: a blue, seventies-style tuxedo. “Rory’s?” I asked, stepping carefully down to the dock.
He looked up and did a classic double-take. His gaze swept down my crisscrossed bodice and lingered on the slits in my skirt. I stopped to swish my feet clean in the icy water, one and then the other, and when I glanced back up, he was still staring.
“That tux,” I said. “Is it Rory’s?”
“Uhhh. Yeah. We bought it for Halloween one year. We dressed up as seventies zombies. Since the tux fit him better, he was the groom.” He tossed a flotation cushion down to cover the cruddy bottom of the boat, and offered me a hand.
A smile split my face as I accepted. “You were his bride?”
“Yeah. I wore a wig and a really big dress and lots of fake blood. I was hideous,” he said, keeping my hand after I’d stepped down. “Nothing scarier than a bride and groom.”
“Unless that bride and groom are zombies from the seventies,” I said, noticing his powder-blue slacks had a distinctive bell bottom. Oh, my.
“Yeah.” He was still staring at me, holding my hand.
Unlike when Caine or Helly had done the same, I didn’t mind. But, after a few moments, I had to point out, “We should get going, don’t you think?”
Nodding, still looking dazed, he helped me into my seat. I pulled on a float coat, which seemed to help his concentration. He poured the last bit of gas he’d gotten from Lane into the boat’s tank, untied us, and a few minutes later, we were pulling in to the bar.
Still barefoot—I really should have grabbed something to wear till I could put on my heels, but oh well—I picked my way across the beach in Zack’s wake.
The bar was buzzing with activity. Off to our right, people were setting up tables and stringing lights. The procession of fishing guides carrying chairs and kegs into the building reminded me of ants bringing food back to their hill.
Ed intercepted us halfway up from the beach. “You haven’t finished the—” he started, right overtop of Zack’s “I’m here to finish the—” Ed took in the paints we were carrying, then nodded. “You’ve got two hours,” he said, stepping aside.
The interior of the bar had been stripped. The scarred booths and even the pool tables were missing, and in their place stood a growing collection of chairs. Women swarmed, tying bows on the chair backs, and covering everything else with flowers in shades of white, brilliant pink, and purple. Down at one end of the room stood an altar, and at the other, the gold-leaf bar was strewn with a collection of candles, behind which the bartender seemed harried.
Passing the bar, I spotted the bear-hunting scoreboard that’d caused all this trouble leaning, completely unattended, against one end. Zack seemed to disapprove of my stealing, but…
this was an opportunity too good to pass up.
“Go ahead and set up,” I told Zack. “I forgot something in the boat.”
He went, and I scooped up the scoreboard. The bartender didn’t even notice. Acting like I knew what I was doing—because isn’t that how all the best heists are carried out?—I tucked the scoreboard under my arm and carried it to the boat. It was a rush, carrying it by all those people. Once there, I slid the board into the grimy crack beneath the boat’s bench. It was almost too easy.
Dusting off my hands, I went back inside, commandeered a chair, and finally strapped on my heels. Zack paused to look at me with brushes in his hand. “Did you want to help?” he asked.
“Paint? Sure, but…” I looked down at my dress.
Five minutes and two garbage bags later—one draped over my shoulders like a poncho, the other tied around my waist to cover my skirt—and looking like a fashion experiment gone terribly wrong in my heels, I was tracing in blades of grass. Zack hung his jacket on my chair, then began conjuring up puffy, dramatic clouds in the blue sky.
I kept getting distracted by the wedding preparations that swirled around us. Ed’s worker bees strung paper lanterns over our heads, while down the center of the room, a pair of fishing guides unrolled a violet runner.
Helly emerged from the door to the fight club, looking stunning with her blonde hair braided into a coronet, curves hugged by a purple dress. She smiled at me as she came over to check out the painting.
“Suzy’s downstairs?” I asked.
“Yup, getting hair and makeup done,” Helly said. “And freaking out just a little. I came up to get her a drink.” She clasped Zack’s shoulder. “It looks good, Zack. Really good. Maybe your best work.”
He smiled, and I was reminded of the first time I’d seen that expression on him, the smile he’d given me in the Jeep as he was driving me back to my dad’s. He’d glowed, as he did now. I was still gazing at him when Helly wandered off to the bar.
He held my attention where all the blades of grass in the world could not. His expression was intent, his brow furrowed as he feathered in the lightest parts of the clouds. The contrast between his big, tough appearance and the delicacy with which he worked held me rapt.
I got sidetracked again as a little band set up in the corner. While Harv tuned his guitar, Dotty crossed to us. She was beautiful in white and gold, with flowers in her hair.
My garbage bags crinkled as she swept me into a big hug. “Guess what?” she said, practically bouncing on her toes. “I’m officiating!” She clapped her hands, then dragged Zack, his eyes wide and paintbrush held clear, into a similar embrace.
Just as quickly as she’d come, she was moving off to spread the news, and the love. Harv and company picked out a jaunty tune, and a bit later, guests began to arrive. Their excitement was a palpable thing, their smiles infectious.
Zack swiped some highlights onto the leaves and finally stepped back to inspect his work. With a nod, he packed up the paints and took the dirty brushes into the men’s room.
When he came out, I’d shed my garbage bags, and most of the seats were taken. “No seating plan,” Dotty said, ushering us along.
I followed Zack toward some of the last seats, which happened to be as far as humanly possible from his parents. I gave his mom a little wave, and smiled at his dad, who nodded a greeting.
Zack leaned over to me after I’d settled at his side. “Another one bites the dust,” he said, watching as Ed escorted Dotty to the altar.
“Ed’s not biting the dust,” I argued. “He’s getting married to the woman he loves.”
“Yeah, and before he knows it, she’ll be harping on him to put the toilet seat down, and telling him he can’t go out with his friends.”
Two huge guys, identical except for the scar on one’s face, lumbered by. “Tim and Paul,” Zack supplied.
“Putting the seat down is just common courtesy,” I argued.
The bridesmaids were next, and wearing that bright and vivid pink, rather than Helly’s purple.
“And the idea is that you marry someone you want to spend time with. Not all your time,” I said, holding up a hand when he would have objected.
Ah, there was Helly, making eyes at Gary as she clumped along the runner. Ha! She’d eschewed the high heels that the other bridesmaids wore in favor of a pair of Xtratuf rubber boots.
“I think that if you love the person,” I added, “and you’re willing to work at it, you can have a good, long, rewarding marriage.”
“Rewarding?” Zack demanded, earning a few chiding glances. He lowered his voice. “How do you figure? You lose your freedom.”
“But you gain a partner in crime. Imagine having someone with you who likes to do a lot of the same things, who makes everything more fun.”
“I already have that,” Zack pointed out.
“Yeah? Do you and Rory cuddle? Do you hold hands, or kiss in the rain?”
“Kiss in the rain?” Zack mumbled. “I’d’ve never pegged you for a romantic.”
“I’m just saying that the right person can enrich your life, not hamper it.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that you’d be so pro-marriage,” Zack mused.
I wouldn’t have guessed I’d fall for you so hard, I thought, meeting his eyes. And there was no doubt in my mind that I had. Being the love ’em and leave ’em type, I knew very well when it was just sex, and when it was… more. Zack was so much more.
If only he didn’t already have a life partner.
“You sure married—and divorced—that ER doc casually enough,” Zack continued. “And in fact, I seem to remember you calling him a controlling dick.”
“Do as I say, not as I do. And anyway, there was a reason I did that.”
“Did you love him?”
“No.” I shook my head emphatically, but not even that was denial enough. “Are you kidding? The man’s perfectly sane. He wouldn’t dream of climbing in my window, or waiting for me in an outhouse, or tying me up with ratchet straps.”
Zack was silent, probably realizing that the man I could love did all of those things, and that Zack had done all of those things. “So why did you marry him?”
“That’s a tale for another day. Oh, how cute,” I added, referring to the two little kids walking down the aisle. They were both curly-headed, a girl and boy, the latter in the tiniest tux I’d ever seen. He held a cushion with the rings, while the girl tossed handfuls of rose petals, when she remembered to do so.
The toddlers made it up to the front and fell in behind the groomsmen and bridesmaids. At the center of it all, looking eagerly down the aisle, was Ed. Brides were said to glow, but I thought he was doing a fair approximation. He’d trimmed his beard for the occasion, revealing a broad smile.
“Oh my gaaawwwd,” Zack groaned. “This is taking for-frickin’-ever.”
I elbowed him. “Shush. The bride’s next.”
Up front, Harv strummed the first few notes of the wedding march. Everyone stood and turned to the back, and after I lamented that I couldn’t see, Zack boosted me up.
There was Suzy. She looked beautiful, and damn close to tears. Her curly hair was up and studded with pearls, while the lace of her beaded bodice trailed down to a gorgeous mass of tulle that brushed the floor. With her small stature and that sparkly dress, she looked like a fairy.
At her side stood her father, a stout and sandy-haired man. I studied him with interest, wondering if she’d gotten a good one.
Suzy had eyes only for her groom. She and her father took a step up the aisle, then another. And, there came the tears.
I nudged Zack. “Look at Ed, and tell me that man’s being trapped.”
We were both gazing that direction when the front door burst open.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
FRANCES
The door to the bar crashed open, and in flooded my father’s hunting guides, armed with rifles, along with George’s unmistakable bellow. “Nobody move!”
&
nbsp; The music cut out in a jangle of notes.
Mark slammed the butt of his gun into Gary’s forehead, dropping him before jabbing the muzzle against his head, pinning him to the ground. Another hunting guide shoved Suzy’s dad aside and grabbed the bride. She fought back, but Phil was three times her size and she was hobbled by her fluffy skirt. The rest of my dad’s men arranged themselves at intervals around the room.
My father stepped into the bar, drawing all eyes and seeming to bring the shadows with him. He scanned the gathering. “You may be seated,” he said.
The wedding guests sat.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ed demanded, glaring at the man who held his bride.
“George, don’t do this,” Dotty said from behind the altar.
“For fuck’s sake, I told you to cover her,” George said. Henry, standing nearest her, brought his gun around. To Ed, George said, “I’m settling this feud.”
Oh no. My heart raced, and my hand was cold where I gripped Zack’s.
“You and Ralph were feuding,” Ed said. “Ralph’s dead, and I had nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, but you have everything to do with it.”
Ed’s eyes finally moved to George. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you even know what your father did?” George didn’t give him time to answer. “He had an affair with my wife,” George said, his voice low. “And then, he killed her.”
“It was an accident,” Dotty protested.
“They were in a boat, he was driving too fast. He hit a rock, she flew out, and then she hit a rock, with her head. If she hadn’t been in that boat with him, if he hadn’t been fucking her,” George said, giving the unabridged version, “she would be alive today. He killed her.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. Next to me, Zack was still and watchful, ready to move at a moment’s notice. I tightened my grip on him, not wanting him hurt.