by Lisa Childs
“Don’t let anyone near,” he cautioned the guy.
“That’s what Andrea told us.”
Derek clicked off the radio.
“What’s wrong?” Andrea asked.
Everything. But he just shook his head. “We need to get out of here.”
“Ralph’s bringing up the real bride,” she said.
“If she’s the only one you want,” the substitute bride said, “can’t you let the rest of us go?”
Andrea pointed her gun at the petite brunette. “You’re not going anywhere!”
“That’s fine,” she replied without fear. “But what about the rest of the guests?”
Derek shook his head. “Nobody’s going anywhere.” If the police showed up, as he suspected they soon would thanks to Andrea’s gunfire, he would need hostages.
He saw that realization in the brunette’s eyes. Despite switching places with the real bride, she was smart. Maybe too smart...and way too courageous. He narrowed his eyes and studied her.
Who or what was she really?
“We need to search everyone,” he said. “Make sure nobody’s armed.” He knew at least two men were: the best man and the father of the bride.
Where the hell were they? A movement in one of the pews drew his attention. Sunlight shining through the stained glass windows glinted off metal. Instincts kicking in, he turned and fired—once, twice, three times...
But he had Andrea’s gun—with the silencer. No shots were heard. Only screams as the hostages reacted.
“Anybody else want to be a hero?” he asked as he swung his gun around, looking for any other shooters. At least nobody else had drawn a weapon. The bride started forward, though, trying to push past him. He shoved her back hard enough that she fell onto the floor.
Certain Andrea wouldn’t let her move again, he started down the aisle to where the guy had fallen out of his pew onto the white paper runner which was now spattered with his blood. He leaned down and grabbed the gun the guy had dropped without ever having fired. The barrel was warm and slick with his sweat. He must have been holding it for a while, waiting for the opportunity to use it.
He should have waited longer. But the guy was young, probably early twenties or maybe older and he just looked like a kid. He moaned and shifted on the ground. Derek kicked his side, and the kid cried out.
“Who are you?” Derek demanded to know.
But the young man was too hurt to talk, his consciousness slipping away as the pain overwhelmed him.
Derek leaned down and patted his pockets. He found a billfold and pulled it out. It wasn’t a wallet. It was a badge with credentials. He cursed.
Andrea, unwilling to the let the fake bride out of her sight, dragged her down the aisle with her as she hurried to Derek’s side. “What? What is it?”
“He’s an FBI agent.” He’d just shot, probably mortally, an FBI agent. If the guy died, Derek wouldn’t just go back to jail; he’d go to the electric chair.
“Why are you surprised?” the substitute bride asked as she dropped to her knees next to the young agent. She checked his wounds. Derek had hit him in the shoulder and the side. If he hadn’t hit any organs, the kid might live if he didn’t bleed out.
“Why wouldn’t I be surprised?” he asked, although he noticed that Andrea wasn’t. She hadn’t reacted at all to the presence of a federal agent.
“If you somehow hadn’t stopped guests from coming into the church,” the young woman replied, “this place would have been crawling with FBI agents.”
Alarm gripped Derek. “What? Why?”
She wadded the kid’s jacket against his side and secured it there with his belt. Was she an EMT or an FBI agent, too?
She glanced up at Derek, and a slight smile curved her lips. “The father of the bride is Chief Special Agent Woodrow Lynch. Every agent in the Chicago Bureau was invited to his daughter’s wedding.”
In his mind, Derek heard the buzz of the cell door as it opened and then whistled closed behind him. He was going back to prison. That hadn’t been part of the plan—at least not his plan. This felt like a trap. He glared at Andrea.
And she stepped back. “D—”
No. He wasn’t going back to prison.
He would die first, but he damn well wasn’t going out alone. He would take everyone in the whole damn chapel straight to hell with him.
Chapter 15
“The bride’s the one we want.” The words ringing in her ears, Megan ran for her life. The heavy dress hampered her movements. She tripped on the train and nearly fell, catching herself against the stone wall. The rough stone scraped her palms, but she held in a cry of pain.
The man wasn’t running after her. He probably thought she was trapped in the dead end of the hallway. The hallway was her best chance of escaping, if she could find the door to the secret passageway.
She began knocking down boxes, hopeful she would find the door and be able to get inside before the guy caught her again. Her breath shuddered out as she discovered the wooden frame. She shoved the last box aside and reached for the door handle just as a shadow blocked her already faint light.
“What the hell is that?” the man asked.
Megan sucked in the breath she’d expelled and turned to face him. “N-nothing...”
“It’s something,” the man said. “Where does the door go?”
To freedom. To help. Both of those were eluding Megan now.
He pushed her aside and shoved open the door to see for himself. Peering into the dark hole behind the door, he remarked, “It’s a tunnel. Is that where the wedding planner went?”
If only she had...
Megan nodded. “Yes. She’s getting help.”
He laughed off her bluff. “All she’s going to get is killed. The church is surrounded with our guys. Andrea thought of everything. Nobody’s getting inside this place and nobody’s leaving.”
“What do you want?” Megan asked. “Why are you doing this?”
The guy shrugged. “I don’t know, lady. I just do what I’m paid to do.”
“What are you paid to do?” she asked. “Kill? How much do you charge for that?”
He just glared at her.
“It can’t be enough,” she answered her own question. “Not enough to risk your freedom. To risk your life.”
He shook his head. “Knock it off. You’re not getting to me again.”
She had to—it was her only chance of escaping him. “I won’t have to get to you,” she said. “The police will be here soon.”
He snorted. “There’s no way you were able to contact them. Andrea jammed the cell signal.”
Of course Andrea had. Damn the bitch.
Megan offered him a condescending smile. “I heard that gunshot down here. You don’t think anyone else heard it and reported it?”
His throat moved as he swallowed. And he tilted his head, as if listening for sirens.
Megan thought she’d heard screams just a little while ago, while she’d been running. She’d thought they might have been her own. She’d wanted to scream. Now she wanted to cry.
The guy shrugged again. “If the cops are coming, then we damn well better hurry.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Let’s you and I go out through the secret passage. Let’s get out of here!”
He snorted. “Lady, that would get me killed for sure. if I double-crossed Andrea.”
“Please, don’t do this,” she implored to his conscience, hoping that he had one. “You know if you bring me upstairs, Andrea will kill me.”
“I don’t care what she does to you.”
Megan did, and she wasn’t going to make it easy for him to do his job. Remembering another one of the games her father had taught her and Ellen—deadweight—she dropped to the floor.
“Get up!” he yelled at her. “Get the hell off the ground!” With his hand not holding the gun, he reached for her. Even though she lay flat on the concrete, he got his hand in her hair.
Tears streamed f
rom Megan’s eyes as the guy fisted his fingers in her hair and pulled. It hurt like hell, but she refused to budge until he pointed the gun right at her head. “Get up or I’ll blow you away right here.”
“But Andrea—”
“Andrea wants you dead,” he said. “I’ll just save her the trouble of pulling the trigger. I’ll kill you right here.” And he cocked the gun.
Megan closed her eyes and waited for the gunshot.
* * *
The barrel was so damn close to her head Gage was worried that the gun might accidentally go off. But he had no choice. If he did nothing, the guy would pull the trigger and kill her—right in front of him. And he couldn’t let that happen.
He moved quickly like he’d been taught in Special Forces. The guy never heard or saw him coming. He probably didn’t feel a thing as Gage slid his arm around his neck, caught his chin in his hand and twisted. He heard the telltale snap. And the guy went limp in his arms. Gage let his lifeless body slide down to the floor—next to Megan.
Startled, she opened her eyes. Staring into the dead face of her assailant, she let out a soft cry of surprise and fear. Was she afraid of the man? Or would she be afraid of Gage because of what he’d done? Of how easily he’d killed?
She turned toward him, and the fear left her dark eyes, which widened with surprise. He extended his hand to her, wondering if she’d take it after how he’d just used it. But her hand closed over his. She pulled herself to her feet before he could even help her.
And she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him. “Thank you!” she exclaimed. “Thank you! You saved my life.”
Before he could close his arms around her, she pulled away. “But you shouldn’t have come back,” she said. “You should be helping upstairs.” Then her face paled, and she began to tremble. Maybe it was shock. Her voice cracking, she asked, “Was it my dad? Was that who was shot?”
Gage had nearly forgotten about that gunshot—the reason she’d convinced him to go upstairs and leave her in the first place.
Before he could answer and ease her fears, another man replied, “I’m okay, sweetheart.”
And Megan dodged around Gage to throw herself into her father’s arms. “Are you really?” she asked. “You didn’t get hurt?”
“No, no,” he assured her. “I’m fine. But I’ll be better when Gage gets you out of here.” Over her head, Woodrow met Gage’s gaze. There was so much in his expression: gratitude that Gage had saved her but also recrimination that he hadn’t already gotten her to safety.
Guilt churned in Gage’s empty stomach.
He wasn’t the only one feeling guilty. It was on Megan’s pale face when she tremulously asked, “Was it Nikki? Did she get shot?”
“No,” Woodrow said. “Nobody got shot. Andrea fired one into the ceiling. That was all.”
That had been all. They had no way of knowing what had happened since they’d come downstairs. A few moments ago, Gage had thought he’d heard the faint echo of screams, like someone had briefly opened a door to hell.
After the captivity he’d endured, Gage knew exactly what hell sounded like, the fear and pain of tormented souls. He didn’t want the hostages in the chapel to have to endure the torture he had.
They had to rescue them.
But how? If the guy had been telling Megan the truth, it wasn’t safe to slip out of the church, either. They were outnumbered and surrounded. But then, he’d been outnumbered and surrounded before and had survived.
“I’m the one Andrea wants,” Megan said.
Her father offered a grim nod. “Yes, you are. That’s why Gage needs to get you out of here.”
Megan shook her head. “No, that’s why I’m not leaving.”
And Gage knew that the real threat to his safety wasn’t outside. It was her—as it had always been. Worrying about her and fighting her stubbornness would kill him faster than any gunshot.
* * *
Penny’s hand shook as she fumbled with the walkie-talkie. It wasn’t the one Gage had taken off the man he’d killed. It was one of hers. She took another from the glass cabinet hidden behind the bookshelf in her office. Then she turned and passed it across her desk.
Woodrow fiddled with the one the fake waiter had used. He was careful to not press any buttons that might connect him with the gunmen in the chapel.
She was surprised that they hadn’t called again. That Andrea wasn’t wondering why Ralph hadn’t brought Megan up to her yet.
Because he was dead.
She hadn’t seen it happen, but she’d known when Gage and Woodrow and Megan had joined her in her office that it had. Gage had been grim. Woodrow had been relieved. And Megan...
She was in shock. Her face pale, her body trembling. She leaned against Gage, maybe consciously, maybe subconsciously seeking his warmth and strength and protection.
Penny glanced around her office. It was big enough that it wasn’t cramped with the four of them in it. She often hosted entire wedding parties in the space, so it was spread out. In addition to the desk she had a conference table and chairs and a couch against one of the walls.
Megan sat there now with Gage beside her, hovering protectively as if he thought someone might try to take her right in front of him.
Then someone nearly had.
She didn’t know how Woodrow had handled it. How he’d watched that man threaten and hurt his daughter and not only not reacted himself, but he hadn’t allowed Gage to react, either. That took a kind of patience and faith she didn’t possess.
When she’d heard that shot earlier, Penny had rushed upstairs without even stopping to grab a weapon. She turned back to her open glass cabinet and pulled out one now. Years ago her husband had taught her to shoot, and then she had taught their sons.
She could help Nikki. If it wasn’t already too late...
She’d heard screams earlier. Just because she hadn’t heard a gunshot didn’t mean there hadn’t been one. A gun wasn’t the only weapon that could kill someone. Megan had wounded the evil Andrea with a pair of scissors. Maybe she’d avenged her injury with another pair.
Penny waited for it, for that connection she had with all her children to let her know if Nikki was hurt. Or worse...
But her connection with Nikki had never been as strong as her connection with her sons. Or even with Nicholas Rus, her husband’s illegitimate son. She could feel their anxiety and fear—even now.
Especially now.
She knew they knew that the wedding guests had been taken hostage. They were no doubt working on a plan to save them without getting them killed.
Ordinarily, Nikki would have tried to be part of that plan. The boys would have excluded her for her protection. That might have been Penny’s fault more than theirs. They probably knew that she’d never wanted her daughter working as a bodyguard.
She’d wanted Nikki to work with her—as a wedding planner. But working in the chapel had put Nikki in more danger than she’d ever been in as a bodyguard.
Woodrow’s hand closed over hers and gently squeezed. “We’ll rescue her. We’ll figure out a way to get her safely out of the chapel.”
She couldn’t trust him. He wasn’t telling her the truth, only what he thought she wanted to hear. And maybe she did want to hear lies—empty assurances that Nikki was all right. Nikki was Nikki.
Her fearlessness and her sassy mouth were her worst enemies. They always put her in danger, and now they might get her killed. But that wouldn’t be Nikki’s fault. That would be Penny’s. She never should have enlisted her daughter’s help.
She’d meddled so often in her kids’ lives that it was second nature to her. This time her meddling might have gotten her daughter killed.
Chapter 16
Nikki’s arm hurt from everyone grabbing it and dragging her along. At least Andrea had dragged her down the aisle toward the wounded agent.
What the hell had the young man been thinking? He’d pulled his gun so quickly that neither she nor the minister had
had a chance to draw their weapons before Derek had fired. If they’d drawn their guns then, Andrea and the other two armed guys would have shot them.
She hadn’t been able to do anything to prevent the shooting. But she’d tried her best to treat his wounds. Despite her limited first aid training, she had done everything she could for him before D had dragged her back up to the altar.
She wished he would have left her near the kid, so she could make sure they didn’t lose him. Not that she could do anything else for him. She’d already pleaded her case for them to get him medical attention.
Andrea had laughed at her. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Nikki had laughed then, which had earned her another slap across the face. She tasted blood on her lip then licked it away as if it was nothing.
And it was in comparison to what they could do, to what they would do once they had Megan in the chapel. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that, though. She’d heard the outside guy on the walkie-talkie with D.
That landscaping crew that all looked alike...
It had to be her brothers. The three of them—four with Nick—could have been quadruplets. They looked that much alike. Sure, the outside gunmen had turned them away, but they would find another way inside. They wouldn’t give up.
And neither would she.
Beside her the groom sniffled. Irritated, she glanced over at him. He wasn’t the only one crying in the church. But he wasn’t crying for the kid that had probably lost his life, he was crying for himself.
To get him to shut up, Nikki murmured, “Don’t worry. We’re going to be okay.” Her brothers would rescue her the same way they always had. And instead of dreading it, she almost looked forward to Logan’s I told you so.
“What about Megan?” he asked anxiously. “Do you think she’s okay?”
Maybe he really loved his bride. Nikki nodded. “Yes.”
“But you heard them on the walkie-talkie—the guy they sent to get her had had her.”
Nikki smiled, splitting her lip open again. “If he had her, they’d already be up here.”
Richard’s face flushed. “But what happened?”