Her Enemy Protector

by Cindy Dees

  Her body didn’t feel like it belonged to her. She listened in mild disbelief as the judge droned through the wedding ceremony, lecturing them about the sanctity of marriage, how it was a sacred oath unto death.

  Unto death. She prayed fervently that this harebrained scheme wouldn’t end up with Joe—or even her—dying at her father’s hands. She ought to call this off. Tell Joe to save himself and forget about helping her.

  But as surely as she was standing here, going through with this insanity, so would he. She might not have the slightest idea who Joe Smith was beneath the mask he always wore, but she knew one thing about him for sure. He’d never walk away from her. Not after he’d promised to rescue her from her father.

  She gulped as Judge Cabot turned to her and said, “Repeat after me. I, Carina Inez di Ortolo Ferrare, do take thee—” a pause while Cabot glanced down at the marriage license in his hand “—Joseph Chavez Smith, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

  Emotion was so thick in her throat that she could hardly breathe. What was it? Fear? Sentimental sappiness? This wasn’t a real wedding, after all. It was just pretend. But darned if her throat didn’t clench up around the familiar phrases “to have and to hold” and “in sickness and in health.”

  In minor shock, she listened to herself promise to love, honor and cherish Joe until death did they part. Lord, that felt really real!

  And then it was Joe’s turn. She looked up at him, not sure if she was more stunned or frightened. And then, of course, there was the whole question of whether she ought to be more afraid of God’s or her father’s reaction to this farce.

  But then Joe’s hand tightened on hers and his gaze captured hers with mesmerizing intensity.

  “I, Joseph Chavez Smith, do take thee, Carina…”

  His voice rolled over her and through her, compelling in its quiet certainty. Conveying reassurance. A promise that he would not let her come to any harm. And then he did something odd.

  The judge intoned, “I vow to love, honor and cherish thee all the days of our lives….”

  But Joe repeated, “I vow to love, honor and protect thee all the days of our lives….”

  And darned if her eyes didn’t start to burn. Tears filled her eyes until Joe was little more than a dark blur before her. And then the tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks in hot tracks. She couldn’t reach up to brush them away since Joe had a death grip on her hands. But just as well. Josefina Cabot could tell all her friends that the bride had cried with happiness.

  Surprisingly, it was Joe who reached up with his fingertips to catch her tears and press them to his lips. How romantic. If she’d truly been in love with this man, the gesture would have melted her heart. She glanced up at Joe in gratitude and was riveted by the passion shining in his gaze. Lord, he was looking at her like he was completely enthralled. Her heart flip-flopped.

  And then she remembered. It was all an act. But, Lord, what an act it was. If he’d felt that way about her for real, she’d be blown away. Behind them, Josefina gave a sappy sigh. And the tabloids would report that the groom adored his bride, who worshiped him in return.

  She blinked as she realized Judge Cabot was asking for the rings. Oh, God. Rings. Rings hadn’t even crossed her mind. But Joe calmly reached into his pocket and pulled out two gold wedding bands. His, an unadorned ring of plain yellow gold. But hers was the surprise. It looked like an antique. It was definitely not new, for it bore the dings and scratches of many years spent on someone’s finger. She didn’t have time to examine it closely, but at a glimpse, it looked carved in an intricate pattern of vines, leaves and flowers in different colors of white, rose and yellow gold. “It’s lovely,” she breathed.

  “My grandmother’s,” he murmured back.

  As she looked down at Joe slipping the ring onto her finger, Cari realized her hands were trembling. And shockingly, she felt a faint tremor pass through Joe’s hand as she took it to slip on his ring. So he wasn’t completely unaffected by this whole wedding thing, either, was he? At least they were in it together. And that thought comforted her more than she’d expected.

  Judge Cabot droned through the closing lines of the ceremony, talking about what God had joined together no man tearing asunder. Maybe he should be saying, let Eduardo Ferrare not tear them asunder. She realized she was gripping Joe’s hands fiercely, as if by hanging on tightly enough, she could keep Eduardo from coming between them. She tried to loosen her grip on the poor guy, but for some reason, couldn’t bring herself to do it. She needed the solid comfort of his strength, needed the way he absorbed her tension, needed the physical contact with him to remind her that he was real while the rest of this was not.

  And then it was over. Judge Cabot declared them husband and wife. And announced that Joe could kiss his bride. Oh, God. Another kiss.

  Husband and wife. Damn. Words Joe had never expected to hear in conjunction with him. And certainly not in this place or time or with this woman.

  You may kiss your bride.

  Now why did his heart skip a beat like that? He’d kissed her before. And it had nearly devolved into a public spectacle. He’d hung on to control by a thread. A hell of a kiss it had been. Not the sort of lip-lock appropriate to this occasion, in front of his boss, not to mention Judge Cabot, who was one of Eduardo Ferrare’s closet cronies.

  Joe looked down at Carina and she gazed back at him in trepidation. Lord, she was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. Supermodel-stunning. And she was his wife. For an instant, he allowed himself the fantasy that it was real. And in that moment, his heart swelled with pride—and with something else he damn well didn’t care to identify.

  He bent his head and kissed his bride. Their lips touched and fireworks ignited in his skull, all but blasting his eyes out of their sockets. Her mouth was soft and warm and so sweet it made his knees weak. His hand crept behind her neck, drawing her closer, and damn if she didn’t flow into him like water. Her lips clung to his while her hands looped over his shoulders, leaving her body beneath that naughty little red dress open to the explorations of his roaming hands, which seemed to have taken on a mind of their own. His fingertips slid over her bare back, warm and satin-smooth like the rest of her. He could drown in this woman—

  “Ahem.” Someone cleared his throat in the distance. “Ahem.”

  Damn. Cabot. Joe lifted his head but was close enough to hear the little moan of protest in the back of Cari’s throat.

  “We have some paperwork to fill out. The license to sign.”

  Relieved to have something to do to take his mind off that kiss, Joe tucked Cari’s hand under his arm and followed the judge over to the desk. He signed his name to the documents below Cari’s surprisingly neat, almost spare signature. He’d have pegged her as the sort who embellished her name with curlicues and dotted her I’s with hearts. He stepped back so Josefina Cabot and Colonel Folly could sign and witness the marriage license—Folly using a false name, of course.

  As the judge started to put the freshly signed marriage license in a drawer, Joe asked him, “May I please have a photocopy of that?”

  Cabot looked up. “The official copy will be mailed to you in a few weeks.”

  Joe grinned lopsidedly. “I’m afraid that isn’t soon enough. I’m expecting to need a copy of it in about an hour. I’d hate for my wife to be a widow by morning.” The words my wife felt exceedingly strange on his tongue. But all in all, they didn’t taste too bad.

  Cabot grunted in rich understanding. He was probably scared spitless that he was a dead man, too. The judge ran the license through his copying machine and handed Joe the warm sheet of paper. “Good luck,” Cabot said quietly.

  Joe grinned back at him. “Here’s hoping luck has nothing to do with it.”

  “Better you than me,” the judge mumbled under his breath.

  Josefina Cabot spoke up. “Can I get you newlyweds something to drink? A glass of champagne, perhaps, to toast the occasion?”

  “Thank you, ma’am, but I
think not,” Joe answered politely. “It’s late, and we’ve imposed on you and your husband far too much already. We need to be getting back before Mr. Ferrare worries unnecessarily about where I’ve taken his daughter.”

  As he’d anticipated, neither of the Cabots had the slightest interest in causing Eduardo any unnecessary worry. His comment ended all argument about them sticking around to celebrate.

  Joe reached for Cari and placed a proprietary hand on her back. Damn, that gentle inward curve felt right under his palm. He guided her from the room and left Colonel Folly to tag along behind them. But as they approached the front door, the colonel stepped around them and hurried down the porch steps to open the car doors.

  In a matter of seconds, Joe ushered Cari into the Cadillac sedan, closing the door behind her. With a last wave of thanks to the Cabots, he climbed into his side of the car. The house retreated into the night.

  It was done. He’d married Carina Ferrare. And now all he had to do was live through the next hour. Thankfully, Folly managed to avoid all the patrols in the area. The man had a sixth sense for that sort of thing.

  The closer they got to Ferrare’s oceanfront estate, the quieter Carina got. She seemed to shrink into her seat as she pulled inward more and more. Lord knew, Joe wasn’t looking forward to facing her father. Eduardo had a legendary temper and was known for killing people first and asking questions later. It would be the toughest moment of this whole op.

  It was possible that Cari was just faking the silent desperation rolling off of her, but Joe doubted it. Although, her big sister was an Academy Award-caliber actress when the need arose. He supposed growing up around their father made that a necessary survival skill.

  Long before he was ready, Joe saw the massive outline of Eduardo Ferrare’s mansion ahead. The whole place was lit up like a Christmas tree. Crap. His abrupt departure with Carina from the disco had kicked the hornet’s nest but good.

  Time to face the music.

  “Ready?” his boss asked, looking through the rearview mirror at Joe.

  Like he was ever going to be ready to face the most vicious bastard in the western hemisphere with nothing but his wits and a marriage license to protect him. Aloud, Joe answered, “As ready as I’m ever gonna be. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 5

  Joe leaned back in the seat as the car turned into the driveway of the Ferrare estate. Time to put on his game face. Charlie Squad’s staff psychologist had said Joe needed to appear capable of controlling his new wife’s behavior while still being caring and considerate of Cari. However, he also needed to come across as being not bright enough to pose any kind of threat to Ferrare’s organization.

  He could still hear the wry note in Doc Porter’s voice as she suggested he appear to get the job done with mind-blowing sex. The shrink had gone on to comment dryly that being a superb lover by no means translated into being clever at anything else.

  Colonel Folly’s window slid down and a burly man leaned down to stare in aggressively. “Whaddya want?” the guy snapped.

  Folly answered evenly, “Miss Ferrare and her guest would like to go inside.”

  The furor that erupted was impressive. Cell phones rang, radios crackled and a dozen men converged on the car.

  Joe readied himself to fight when the first guard all but came through the window in reaction to Folly’s casual announcement, snarling, “Where the hell has she been?”

  Folly threw up his hands. “Don’t ask me. I’m only the driver.”

  Cari leaned forward and spoke to the thug hanging in Folly’s window. “Rico, I’m tired. Let us in.”

  Thankfully, the guard waved them through. Four men toting machine guns jogged beside their car as they drove slowly to the house. Joe eyed the escort cautiously. Wow. Eduardo must be apoplectic for these guys to be jumping like this. One of the thugs opened his car door and Joe stepped outside. No surprise, the guy called Rico slammed him against the side of the car and frisked him thoroughly and roughly. Asshole.

  Carina was ushered out of the car much more politely, but Joe noticed her guard had a bruising grip on her arm. He caught Cari’s wince before she masked it. “Get your hands off my wife,” he growled at the guard over the trunk of the car.

  That froze them all in their tracks. The looks on the guards’ faces would have been hilarious if Joe hadn’t been so busy being shocked over how genuinely mad he was that the guy was manhandling Cari. As it was, he had to take a couple of deep breaths and forcibly tell himself to cool it.

  He stepped around the car and put a protective arm around her shoulders. “Get my suitcase out of the trunk,” Joe snapped to the guard who’d frisked him. “And don’t break anything when you search it.”

  He led Cari toward the house and made a point of not bothering to check over his shoulder to see if the guard had done as he ordered. He was aware, though, that Folly had prudently stayed inside the car.

  Freddie and Neddie came charging outside just as he and Cari reached the front steps. The two giants screeched to ungainly halts, scowling ferociously at him. They were dying to get their hands on him, but with his arm securely around Cari, they’d have to wait. Frustration danced on their hamlike features.

  “You in big trouble, boy,” Freddie growled in broken English.

  Joe shrugged. “I brought her home, didn’t I?” He might have added that it was more than Freddie had managed to do tonight, except there was no need to antagonize Ferrare’s people more than he had to. He was going to have to get along with these goons if he planned to stay alive here for any length of time.

  Behind them, Joe heard the car start and then pull away. Thank God the colonel was out of there safely. Oh, and there went his last escape route. He was committed now.

  Cari piped up, “Relax, you two. We just wanted to get married in peace, for goodness’ sake.”

  Freddie and Neddie’s jaws sagged.

  “C’mon,” Cari continued brightly, “you can help us break the news to Daddy.”

  Not surprisingly, the two men declined to follow them into the house. Joe threw Cari a speculative glance. She’d pushed exactly the right button to get rid of her watchdogs. He revised his estimate yet again of just how smart a cookie she was. At a glance, she came across as more concerned with the latest fashions and having a good time than anything serious. Except she kept showing these subtle flashes of calculated brilliance that called her airheaded-party-girl act into serious doubt. Now, if only she could handle her father as smoothly as she’d just played her bodyguards.

  “Do you know the layout of the place?” Cari murmured under her breath.

  “Most of it,” he replied under his breath. They were headed for what he believed was Ferrare’s office now, in fact. For years, Charlie Squad had been trying to penetrate that inner sanctum of Ferrare’s crime empire. And to think, he was about to stroll into the place itself. Well, maybe walk in gingerly. It was still hard to grasp.

  They were stopped at the door to Eduardo’s office by a gray-haired man with the roving gaze of a trained security expert. This guy was no beefy flunky. He looked hard and fit. Carried himself as if he were ready for anything to come his way. A legitimate warrior. Probably one of Eduardo’s personal bodyguards. Someone to reckon with. Don’t react physically! Shoulders down. Hands relaxed. Don’t show recognition of this guy as a threat. Stay loose. It took concentration, but Joe managed not to fall into a defensive fighting stance in front of the guy.

  “Hi, Gunter,” Cari said cheerfully. “I…we…need to see my father when he has a moment.”

  “Given that you are the reason he is busy, I expect that will not be a problem,” the man said with a German accent.

  Eastern German, if Joe didn’t miss his guess. The inflection sounded like it came out of the region toward the Polish border. If this guy had been Stasi trained, he was one tough hombre. The East German secret police had been one of the scariest bunches out there in their day. And Gunter looked old enough to have been one of them.


  Gunter put a finger to his ear and spoke quietly into a microphone clipped to his shirt collar. He reached for the door handle but paused with his hand on the knob. In an undertone, he said to Cari in English, “I haven’t seen him this worked up in a long time. Not even after Julia—”

  Joe completed Gunter’s sentence in his own head. Not even after Julia, Eduardo’s elder daughter, stole Ferrare’s entire cash fortune and handed it over to Charlie Squad. She’d wiped out every liquid asset her father owned. And Eduardo was madder now than he’d been over that? Whoa.

  Joe might have been in threat mode before, but now his body kicked into imminent threat-of-death mode. Adrenaline ripped through him, and he kept wanting to settle into a fighting stance. Safe, dammit. Think safe and unassuming!

  The door swung open before them. Through his private battle, Joe was vaguely aware of Cari reaching out to grab hold of his hand. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze and they stepped inside.

  The ceiling soared three stories overhead, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows—bulletproof, no doubt—lined the far wall, letting in what would be a spectacular view of the ocean during the day. The room was ultramodern, clean-lined, decorated in pale woods and shades of white.

  He caught sight of the large glass-and-steel desk across the room, or rather the man seated at it. Eduardo Ferrare. In the flesh. And suddenly, this giant room seemed barely large enough to contain the man to whom it belonged. The sheer presence of the guy was incredible. Joe’s eyes narrowed. God, what he wouldn’t give to have a pistol in his hand right now.

  While the urge to blow her father away roared through him, Joe tightened his arm around Cari’s shoulders protectively. She glanced up at him sideways, a quick look that was equal parts grim, grateful and scared silly.