Fiancee for Hire (Front and Center)

by Tawna Fenske

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “You sure? I had a chance to check him out when he tackled me on the beach yesterday, and I’ve gotta admit, the man’s ripped.” She looked at Stella and grinned. “You’re the master breeder of well-built men.”

  “I should have that printed on business cards.”

  Anna shook her head and picked up her teaspoon. “Thanks, but military men aren’t really my type. No offense. Besides, I’m still seeing Bryce.”

  “Bryce?” Stella asked.

  “Anna’s on-again, off-again boyfriend,” Kelli supplied. “A narcissistic, tortured artist who totally doesn’t deserve her. I thought you guys were off-again?”

  “We got back together. And he’s not narcissistic. Much.” Anna clicked her pen, a sure sign she was feeling agitated. “Okay, so back to your wedding. Maybe tonight you can ask Mac—”

  “Ask Mac what?”

  They all turned to see Mac striding into the coffee shop. He wore all black—of course—and his dark sunglasses obscured his eyes.

  Kelli felt her traitorous heart do a somersault in her chest. She forced a smile and gripped her coffee mug to keep from gripping him, or worse, having anyone notice her hands were shaking.

  “MacArthur—what a surprise!” Stella said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Kelli said she was having breakfast, so I thought I’d swing by for a second.” He smiled at her and reached into his pocket. “I have something for you.”

  Kelli smirked. “Please say it’s something off the Williams-Sonoma registry.”

  “Better.” He knelt down in front of her and drew his hand from his pocket. His fingers were clenched around a small object, and Kelli watched as he uncurled them to reveal a flat palm.

  A flat palm that held the most spectacular diamond ring she’d ever seen.

  Mac pulled his sunglasses off, his brown eyes locking on hers. For a moment, she didn’t breathe. Everything in the room began to spin, the smell of coffee and the whir of an espresso machine fading to a distant blur in her head.

  Mac’s eyes held hers, unblinking.

  Kelli’s heart surged into her throat, and she burst into tears.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mac stood up fast, fumbling for a chair from the table beside them. He sat down in it and grabbed Kelli’s hands, the ring still held in his palm.

  What the hell was she crying for?

  “Kelli, dear, there, there,” his mother said, patting her on the back as Mac watched in horror. “MacArthur, I think you shocked the living daylights out of her.”

  Kelli nodded, pulling one hand from his to grab a napkin off the table. She dabbed at her eyes as she pasted on what Mac recognized as her best make-believe smile. “I wasn’t expecting you—this—I mean—” She took a gulp of air. “You picked out a ring.”

  “Yes,” he said, still reeling from her unexpected reaction. Hadn’t they talked about staging this performance at some point? True, he’d surprised her with it today—he wanted her reaction to be as authentic as possible—but he hadn’t expected this.

  Was she the best actress ever, or the worst?

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. “I mean, it’s one of the ones we looked at the other day at the jeweler, but I didn’t expect—”

  She took it from his hand and slipped it on, not giving him the chance to perform the act the way he’d hoped. Still, improvising was good. He squeezed her hand and glanced around the shop, wondering if Griselda was here.

  “Thank you, Mac,” Kelli said, pulling him down for a kiss. “I’m never taking it off.”

  “I should hope not,” he said, kissing her more passionately than he intended. Across the table, Anna gave a low wolf whistle.

  “Very nice performance!” she called, grinning at them, and Mac tried not to notice the word performance.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw two figures stroll into the coffee shop. Zapata gripped his young wife’s arm, while Griselda made a beeline for their table.

  “Mac! Kelli! So lovely to see you again,” she gushed.

  “What a nice surprise,” Kelli chirped back as she stood to embrace Griz. “I was eager to try this place after you suggested it the other night. You’re right, the bagels are divine.”

  “I told you so. Oh—I’m sorry—am I interrupting a meeting here?”

  Her gaze fell to the table, where an artful array of binders showed wedding flowers, bridal gowns, and photos of cakes. Mac resisted the urge to smile.

  Perfect.

  “It’s no problem, really,” Kelli said. “Just making wedding plans. Griselda, this is my friend and wedding planner, Anna Keebler. And this is my soon-to-be mother-in-law, Stella Patton.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, dear,” his mother said, extending her hand. “You’re friends of MacArthur and Kelli?”

  “Friends, yes,” said Zapata, stepping up behind Griz and resting a hand on her shoulder. “Friends and business associates. I’m looking forward to talking things over with you this evening, Mac.”

  Mac nodded and stood, shaking Zapata’s hand while steadfastly avoiding any contact with Griz. They were so close to finalizing things now, there was no sense giving the man anything to be jealous about.

  “We’ll be there at eight,” he said. “Anything we can bring?”

  “Just yourselves,” Griz chimed in, beaming at him.

  Christ, when did arms deals start sounding like Tupperware parties?

  “We’re eager to spend more time with you,” Kelli said. “Thank you so much for inviting us. How is Felix doing?”

  “Marvelous,” Griz trilled. “Thank you so much for what you did the other night. He is back to his normal self.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Mac turned back to Kelli. “Sweetheart, I have to run to a meeting. I’ll see you back at the house around six?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, lifting a hand to his cheek in a move he assumed was meant to display the sparkler on her finger. She gave him a kiss on the lips—so soft, so sweet, so delicate—and he almost lunged for more.

  No. Don’t overplay your hand.

  He drew back, nodded once, and slipped his sunglasses back on. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze and offered a curt wave to his mother and Anna before turning back to Zapata. “Call me if you think of anything we can bring this evening.”

  A grenade launcher? An M40 sniper rifle?

  “How about a bottle of wine,” Griz said. “If you insist.”

  “Of course. See you tonight.”

  He looked at Kelli again, so beautiful and sweet in her lavender sundress, and never wanted to leave.

  Get out!

  He dropped her hand and walked away fast, not risking a glance back over his shoulder.

  …

  An hour later, Kelli stood looking down at a box of kittens. There were four of them, tiny and dainty-pawed with their eyes barely open. Maybe ten days old, if her estimation was correct, and cute as a bug’s ear if she set aside her veterinary expertise and pretended bugs had ears instead of chordotonal organs detecting vibration in the tympanic membrane.

  She trailed a finger down the spine of the smallest kitten with black-and-white tuxedo markings.

  “Mew,” it squeaked, and Kelli’s heart melted. She looked up at the man who’d brought them to the clinic and posed her question in Spanish. “So you found them in your basement?”

  The man gave a vigorous nod. “I’ve been trying to take care of them, but they didn’t want to eat.”

  “They’re too little to eat regular food. What did you offer them?”

  “Fruit Loops.”

  “Okay,” she said, stroking a finger behind another kitten’s ear. “Um, they actually need to nurse, but if their mother isn’t around, some milk replacer would be the next best thing.”

  “Yes, I tried that, too! Nursing, I mean. I put my cat in the box with the kittens to see if they’d nurse.”

 
; “Oh—your cat is the mother of the kittens?”

  “No.” The man shook his head sadly. “But he’s very gentle with them.”

  “He? Your cat is male?”

  “Yes, Pedro is his name.”

  Kelli bit her lip. “Right. See, I don’t think things are going to work out with Pedro nursing these kittens. Let me check the supply cabinet for some milk replacer. Then I’ll have you talk with Julia out front to see about getting in touch with the local foster organization.”

  Kelli turned and made her way to the back corner of the exam suite, trying to be grateful the word had spread so quickly about their little volunteer clinic. Besides the spay-and-neuter effort, she’d been working nonstop tending to other animals who needed care.

  She grabbed several cans of milk replacer and a couple small syringes to serve as baby bottles for her tiny patients. She’d just filled one of the syringes with formula when a familiar figure strode into the exam room, pivoted, and gave her a brisk salute.

  “Hey, Hank,” Kelli said, tipping the kitten’s head back to offer the formula. “I thought you weren’t picking me up for another four hours.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m not here to pick you up. I’m sorry. I can see you’re busy. I’ll come back later.”

  “It’s no problem. I just need to get some food into these kittens. Is something wrong?”

  “I think so, ma’am. A dog—I think it’s been hit by a car. I saw it limping away from the road, and I tried to catch it. I thought maybe you could help, but if you’re busy—”

  “No, it’s okay. Is it far from here?”

  “Just a few miles.”

  “Let me get one of the volunteers to take over feeding the kittens. I’ll grab my medical bag and meet you at the car in five minutes?”

  Hank nodded, his stoic features looking visibly relieved. “Thank you, ma’am. Mac said you’re really good at this.”

  She felt a soft flutter of pride knowing Mac had been talking up her talents. She was damn good at her job, and it was nice to have him know that. Love might be overrated as far as Kelli was concerned, but respect—well, that was worth something.

  She hurried to grab her kit, adding a few essentials she thought might be necessary with an injured dog. A couple splints, some Telazol, definitely bandage material, pain meds. She zipped up the kit and issued instructions to the young volunteer who seemed delighted to play nursemaid to a batch of adorable kittens. Then she stepped out the door into the bright sunlight.

  The familiar black Town Car idled at the curb, and Hank nodded to her as he stepped around to open the door. “Thank you for helping,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do, and the dog looked to be in bad shape.”

  “Poor thing,” she said, swinging herself into the backseat and setting her back beside her. “Hopefully we’ll be able to find him.”

  They rode in silence into a neighborhood Kelli hadn’t visited yet. Nicer homes like Mac’s gave way to smaller, dingier shacks with mud-streaked windows and razor wire on the fences. One yard held a car missing all its wheels. Another featured a tatty string of laundry anchored between a pair of cacti. Her window was up, but she could smell a faint hint of sewage in the air. A skinny cat darted across the road, and Kelli felt a surge of sympathy.

  You can’t save them all, she ordered herself. Focus on the dog.

  “Is it much farther?” she called to Hank.

  “No, ma’am, just right up here.” He pointed toward a taller building that looked like some sort of warehouse. “I saw the dog over there, but when I tried to get close, it limped off over that way. I wasn’t sure about rabies or things like that, so I didn’t chase it too far.”

  “You were smart to come get me,” she said, grabbing her medical bag as Hank angled into a parking spot. “I’ll have a look around.”

  She reached for the door handle, but Hank had it open for her before she could do it for herself. He offered her a hand out of the car, then stood at attention while she stepped away from the vehicle.

  I’ve gotten used to this bodyguard thing, she mused as she moved across the cracked pavement toward the building. She slid her sunglasses over her nose and scanned the horizon. Then she glanced back at Hank, who was right on her heels with a stoic expression, intent on protecting her. I’m going to miss having someone waiting on me hand and foot.

  It’s not all you’re going to miss.

  She turned back to Hank. “You said the dog went that way?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Over by that Dumpster.”

  Kelli nodded and took off, her medical bag clutched tightly in one hand. She turned the corner of the building, grateful to be in the shade for a change instead of in the blazing heat of the Mexican sun. Unlike Mac’s tree-lined neighborhood, there were only a few scraggly cacti and one lone palm tree that looked like it might have some sort of fungus.

  “Here, puppy, puppy, puppy,” she called, keeping her voice sweet and soothing as she gave a low whistle. “Come here, sweetie. Ven aquí, perrito.”

  She made a few kissy noises, peering around the Dumpster and beside a dead shrub.

  Nothing.

  She kept going, rounding the next corner of the building. She stepped into the blazing sunlight again and squinted toward the fire escape. Her back prickled with sweat beneath her pink scrub top, and the smell of the Dumpster made her stomach roil.

  But she had to get to the injured animal.

  She moved carefully along the back of the warehouse, still calling out to the dog.

  “Here, baby!” She whistled again. “¡Ven aquí!”

  She slipped her hand into her medical bag, feeling for the syringe that held the Telazol. Injured dogs could be dangerous dogs, as she knew from experience. She’d sustained more than one bite wound over the years. Might as well be prepared.

  “Here, doggie,” she called again. “Ven aquí, sweetie.”

  A shadow fell over her back.

  Kelli turned, expecting to see Hank. He was there, but the expression of stoic concern on his face had been replaced by something darker. Something Kelli didn’t recognize.

  She took a step back.

  “Hank? You’re sure this is where you saw the dog?”

  He stepped toward her. “There’s no dog.”

  Kelli shivered, tasting bile at the back of her throat. “What?”

  He stepped forward again. “I said there’s no dog.” He reached for his shoulder holster and drew the pistol. Kelli had seen the gun every time she’d been near him from the moment Mac introduced them. For the last week, it had made her feel safe.

  She looked up at Hank, at that towering wall of muscle and the glint of gunmetal steady in his hand. At the eyes that were colder than anything she’d seen in her life.

  She didn’t feel safe now.

  She felt utterly, painfully terrified.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Running wasn’t an option. That much Kelli knew. With a full foot of height on her and a helluva lot more muscle, Hank would catch her in three seconds.

  A bullet would be even faster.

  “Get in there,” Hank snarled, pushing her toward a door. “Move it!”

  She knew she shouldn’t go with him, but what choice did she have? She glanced at the gun and shivered. He shoved her again, and she stumbled forward, fumbling with the doorknob. It turned easily, and Kelli pried it open, wondering what the hell she was walking into.

  “Can’t we talk about this?” she asked. “Whatever you want, I’m sure Mac will—”

  “Mac isn’t running the show anymore,” Hank snapped, pushing her through the doorway. “I am.”

  Dread knotted her stomach as she moved into the darkened space with Hank on her heels. The room was pitch-black and darker still as he jerked the door closed behind them. He flipped a light switch, bathing the room in a swath of dirty yellow light.

  She turned and looked at Hank’s menacing face and tried not to shudder. “He trusted you, you know,” she said. “Mac did. That’s not
easy for him.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what’s easy for him,” he barked.

  “The carjacking,” Kelli said, realization dawning. “You were behind that somehow, weren’t you?”

  “It would have gone down much easier that way.”

  “What would have?”

  “My plan!” he snapped, raising a hand.

  She must’ve flinched because Hank gave a nasty little laugh and dropped his hand. Kelli didn’t relax. “Chill, babe. I’m not planning to rape you or beat the shit out of you or anything.” He hesitated, then gave a leering shrug. “Well, assuming you do what I say.”

  “Which is what, exactly?”

  “You’re going to help me turn this fucking arms deal around. Mac’s planning to hand the weapons over to the U.S. military but there’s a lot more money to be had selling them elsewhere.”

  “To terrorists, you mean?”

  He rolled his eyes and thrust the gun skyward. “No, to hairdressers. Jesus. Terrorists. You watch too much television. I’m talking about a highly trained rebel group fighting valiantly by whatever means necessary to seize control of their government.”

  “And that’s different from terrorists how?”

  Kelli knew she shouldn’t bait him, but she was trying to buy herself some time. She studied the gun, which was no longer pointed at her, but dangling loosely from one hand as Hank glanced away to adjust the lights. If she could just keep him talking—

  “I’m done talking,” he snapped. “Now here’s how you’re going to help me.”

  Now or never.

  She lunged at him, the syringe she’d stashed her pocket clutched in her fingers. She flicked the cap off with her thumbnail, baring the sharpened point of the needle. She aimed for his biceps, stabbing with all her strength to sink the point into Hank’s bare muscle.

  “What the fucking fuck—”

  He grabbed her by the hair with his free hand, jerking her head back. Kelli yelped and jammed the plunger down, flooding the Telazol into his muscle. Hank yelled and drew his gun back, slamming the butt of it into her cheek.

  She cried out, falling to her knees. He raised the gun, sneering, and aimed at her head.