BULLETPROOF BRIDE

by Diana Duncan

  He frowned. "It looks serious."

  "It's not. Mild concussion."

  Gabe climbed in and fastened his seat belt and headphones. He flipped several overhead switches. The rotors whirled, vibrating the cockpit.

  As the ground fell away beneath her, Tessa braced herself. But instead of a stomach-lurching ascent, the machine gently floated upward. Was there anything this man couldn't do? "I expected this to be scary, but it's fun."

  His white, wicked grin flashed. "Flying is the second-best out-of-control feeling there is."

  Her toes curled in her shoes. She looked away from those knowing eyes, focusing on the endless expanse of blue sky.

  "Trust your pilot, honey, his knowledge and experience." His husky, mellow voice floated into her ears. "Trust him to send you soaring as high as you can go and then float you safely back down. Relax and let yourself enjoy the ride."

  Her insides melted at the intimate promise in his tone. Flying had never sounded so tempting. Warm, quivery sensations she'd never felt before shimmered through her. She shifted uneasily. "About that explanation?"

  Gabe glanced over at Tessa's flushed face, and his groin tightened. What the hell was he doing? He'd better keep his mind on the job and his hands off the woman. Life on the edge was one thing, but playing with the safety off got a guy shot in the heart. He'd already had his heart blown to pieces. He wasn't about to trust another female with it. "I'm a federal agent."

  "Oh, please. That's the oldest line in the book. Next you'll spout a British accent and claim your name is Bond, Gabe Bond."

  He threw back his head, roaring with laughter. Still laughing, he handed her a leather wallet from his shirt pocket. "License to kill, sweetheart."

  She traced her graceful fingertips across the smooth surface. He pictured those fingertips trailing over his skin, and a rush of desire scorched his blood. He jerked in a breath.

  "The Incredible Hulk had ID, too, FBI, in fact."

  Jaw tight, he shifted his gaze out the windshield. "Did he hurt you?"

  "I thought I was going to die." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her touch her ribs in a subconscious gesture.

  Gabe's knuckles whitened on the stick. If the big lug had put his hands on her, he would pay. "You saw a badge and documentation?"

  "He flashed his shield so fast, I couldn't see much. He said his name was Agent Gregson."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "Nothing."

  Not for the first time since he'd met her, admiration surged through him. The goon had had her inside for thirty minutes. Though Tessa was as soft and sweet as a woman could be on the outside, she had inner fortitude of tungsten steel. "Nothing?"

  "I didn't trust him, he had rattlesnake eyes. Reptilian." She shivered. "He didn't care about the money. He knew about the checks and wanted to find out if I did. The only way he could have that information is if he was involved, because the bags were sealed. I doubt he was really FBI."

  His kitten was one smart cookie. But then he had already glimpsed the sharp intellect behind those big golden eyes. "You've got good instincts, Houdini. Check out my ID."

  Tessa opened the wallet. "Well, this is interesting. No wonder you use your middle name. I'm sorry, I know it's not polite, but you, of all people, to be named—" she broke off in a gale of husky giggles.

  "Valentine," he finished, enjoying her laughter. "Valentine Gabriel Colton, FBI Special Agent, at your service."

  "Okay, you have ID. Like I said before, so did Gregson. How do I know it's the genuine article?"

  "Hey, if I made something up, I sure wouldn't conjure up that name."

  "Maybe so, but when we get where we're going, I want to call the local FBI office for confirmation."

  "I'm not affiliated with the locals, I'm working out of D.C. on a special interagency assignment. At the moment, I answer to one guy, work alone and go where I'm needed, doing what's necessary. Even if that means coloring outside the lines."

  "The hired gun, cleaning up Dodge City all by himself?"

  "And when the job is over, I ride off into the sunset. Alone." He was warning her, but also reminding himself. Keep everything on the surface, keep it superficial. Keep it safe.

  "How does one get a job like that? Did you go to super-secret spy college?"

  "I was a frogman for ten years."

  "A what?"

  "Sorry, Navy SEAL."

  "That explains the affinity for water."

  "My love affair with the ocean began long before that. I grew up in San Diego, started surfing when I was only seven."

  "Seven?" A shudder wracked her. "Then why did you leave the SEALs? You're landlocked now, I take it."

  He considered her question. "It stopped being fun." Blurting out the honest reply startled him. He was always careful not to reveal his true feelings.

  "So you quit." Her brows arched. "What happened?"

  Guilt wrenched inside him. You don't want to know. That's what he got for following his crazy impulse to open up to her.

  Thrown off balance by his out-of-the-blue lapse of control, which seemed to happen too often around her, he focused on the business at hand. "As you've realized, this … situation concerns the checks. But it's complicated. Gregson may or may not be genuine FBI. Too much information has leaked out. Cops are involved and we're not sure how high the betrayal goes. That's why I had to pull the bank job. I couldn't just waltz in and ask to see the checks. I'd have blown my cover. The robbery got me the checks without arousing suspicions. From the local cops on up, nobody can know I'm working for the good guys. Two of our agents are already dead. We can't trust anybody. Including our own."

  "But you trust me?"

  Gabe had discovered the hard way he couldn't trust anyone. He'd learned the lesson early, and learned it well. He survived by holding people at arm's length, substituting adventure and excitement for relationships. A clever quip and a ready smile kept deeper emotions where they belonged. Buried.

  Every day was a party. But it was a party for one.

  He'd run a thorough background check on Tessa and discovered nothing incriminating. Defying logic, his gun-shy instincts urged him to trust her all the way. If he couldn't get her out of this mess, he might have to. A suffocating fist gripped his lungs. He might be forced to include her—to a minimum—on a professional level, but he'd make damn sure it didn't get personal.

  "Obviously if they're after you, you're not in on it. And you saw the checks, which puts you in jeopardy." Quashing his inner turmoil, he grinned at her. "I need your cooperation, and I can't be afraid to eat or drink when you're around. Very clever, by the way. I couldn't see straight for twelve hours. Which made surveilling you since you left the hospital a little difficult. Luckily, I managed, or Gregson's abduction attempt would have succeeded."

  Her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry. I felt badly about drugging you, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I wanted to go home. But even after I escaped, nobody would let me."

  He frowned. "Why not?"

  "The doctor made me stay in the hospital overnight and then I had to wait for Mel to get me some new clothes."

  "What happened to your clothes?"

  "They were ruined and someone threw them away." Her voice dropped to a murmur. "Then the doctor wanted to do an exam and lab tests. He wouldn't believe you didn't rape me."

  Nausea slammed into him at the thought of anyone violating her that way. His jaw felt too tight to get the words out. "I would never force myself on a woman."

  "I know," she replied softly. "I know you wouldn't."

  He squeezed the stick to keep from ramming his fist into the door. She'd been hurt and humiliated because of his actions. Her head injury was also on his account. In spite of his devil-may-care attitude, he went out of his way to make sure no innocent bystanders took any flak. This time he'd failed. And Tessa had suffered the consequences. It ate at him like acid. "I'm sorry you had to go through that because of me."

  "Everybody kept patting m
e until I wanted to scream. I told them you were nice, and they stuck an IV in my arm," she huffed. "Mel was the only one who believed me."

  His stomach rolled again, for an entirely different reason. He didn't want to analyze why he suddenly felt proprietary and protective toward this woman, when he'd never before felt that way about anyone. Step back, Colton. "Is Mel your boyfriend?"

  "My best friend since first grade, we're like sisters."

  "Funny name for a girl."

  "Her name is Melody. Mel's a nickname. You should talk … Valentine." A grin sneaked out before remorse erased it. "I'm sorry, teasing you is mean."

  An answering smile curled Gabe's mouth. "You're not the first. How do you think I learned to fight? I was battle-hardened long before Navy martial arts training, believe me. Anybody who called me Valentine got clobbered."

  "Why did your parents choose something so unusual? Is Valentine a family name?"

  Gabe's face shut down, his eyes darkening, his expression shifting into neutral. "I have no idea."

  Tessa frowned. Obviously, she'd hit a nerve. Too late, she remembered he'd mentioned a foster mom. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

  "Look, there's our destination ahead."

  Her gaze followed his pointing finger out the windshield. She gulped. "That microscopic patch of grass between the trees?"

  His grin reappeared, banishing his wariness. She studied his deliberately casual profile. This complex man wasn't what he appeared, in more ways than one. The grin that sprang so easily to his lips covered a shadow inside. Compassion flooded her. No stranger to pain herself, she recognized the deep hurt he so determinedly held at bay. In spite of herself, she was drawn to him, to the impudent courage that shielded his heart.

  "No problem. Your pilot knows how to hit the sweet spot every time."

  True to his word, the helicopter floated gracefully between the colorful oaks and maples, and then kissed the ground with a slight bump. "Cape Hope. I believe you'll recognize the cabin."

  He placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked through the forest. Heat radiated from his hand, through her. Though the path wasn't steep, her breathing accelerated. Baffled, she gulped in the cool, autumn air.

  Gabe unlocked the door, and they entered the familiar log cabin. He grasped her upper arms and pulled her toward him. "I want your word you won't run off. These scum are dead serious, and Gregson got too damn close."

  "I realize that now. I won't, I promise."

  "If I hadn't made it there in time—" He shuddered, swallowed hard. His darkened emerald gaze ensnared hers. As if he couldn't help himself, he fingered a curl that had fallen over her shoulder. "You have hair like a Caribbean sunset. Copper and red and gold. Bewitching. Beautiful."

  Nobody had ever called her beautiful. Warmth curled through her, settling around her heart. "I, um, thank you," she whispered.

  His callused fingertips traced the shell of her ear, and delicious sensations rained down her spine. His gaze caressed her face, lingered on her mouth, then slipped upward to hold her captive again. "So tempting." He lowered his head, moving closer. "You smell so sweet, Tessie. Makes a man want to eat you up," he murmured, his breath feathering across her temple.

  Her heart shimmered. The wonderful things he was saying, the enraptured expression on his face filled her with wonder, held her spellbound.

  His fingers slid into her hair, urging her nearer. Resisting didn't occur to her. His warm lips touched hers, and the bright, sizzling jolt of pleasure made her gasp, startled her pulse into a gallop. Shocked by her intense response, she shoved at his chest.

  He instantly released her.

  She jumped away, pressed quivering fingers to her lips. "Wh-what do you think you're doing?"

  A "hell-if-I-know" stunned expression glazed his eyes for several long, trembling heartbeats. Then he shook his head, and the familiar naughty twinkle appeared. "If you don't know, I must not have been doing it right." His shaky chuckle vibrated through her. "That was a kiss."

  It certainly was. A startling, amazing, set-me-on-fire kiss. She'd enjoyed the brief pressure of his mouth on hers far too much. "I am not that kind of a woman."

  He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Maybe you are and just don't know it."

  Fury burned away the sweet ache inside her. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right. And that would make her the kind of woman she'd vowed not to become. "You … oh! You're a … a … an oversexed gorilla!"

  His grin flashed. "I thought you said I was nice."

  "I've changed my opinion." She stormed into the kitchen. Trembling, she stood in front of the sink, her hands gripping the cold edge of the tile counter. What was the matter with her? She'd basked in his kiss with the greedy thirst of a desert wanderer at an oasis.

  Gabe poked his head in the doorway. "Is it safe to come in?"

  She whirled. "What do you want?"

  He held up both hands. "I shouldn't have done that."

  "I happen to be engaged."

  "Yes, you are." His impudent grin flashed. "Engaging."

  "Get serious. If you can. We've got to plan what to do."

  "I'm sorry. You're right. Truce?"

  "Well … I suppose. But keep your distance."

  "Yes, ma'am. I'm going to grab a shower and change out of this monkey suit. You will be here when I get back…" His eyes danced with mischief. "And not traipsing around in the woods in purple skivvies singing 'You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog'?"

  She shot him a glare. "I never break a promise. I want to talk to your superior. Then I need to call Mel, or she'll have every cop in the state searching for me. You wouldn't happen to have a phone in your shoe?"

  "You watch too many movies, Houdini." He unsnapped his pocket and produced a cell phone. "It's a secure unit, can't be traced." He gave her his boss's name and phone number, and the code name Falcon Three so his boss would release the information to her. "When you talk to your friend Mel, make something up. Don't tell her anything about me."

  "Of course not. I'm not an imbecile."

  "No you're not. You're a very sharp lady, and I'm glad you're on my side." He saluted, turned and sauntered out.

  Tessa didn't trust the information he'd provided, after all he could have paid someone to lie for him. She called directory assistance in Washington, D.C. They recited the same number Gabe had given her. Hurdle one conquered. Excitement jittered through her. Feeling disconcertingly like a Bond babe, she dialed, waited through three transfers, and then gave the code name to the gravelly voiced baritone who identified himself as Gabe's superior. At her request, the man supplied a dead-on description of Valentine Gabriel Colton down to the cleft in his chin, and verified that he was indeed a federal agent. Hurdle two. Relief, mixed with an emotion that felt oddly like happiness careened through her. Gabe was who he said he was. Not a criminal. FBI.

  After a second call to inform Mel that she'd been delayed at the police station, Tessa hung up and set the phone on the counter. Leaning on her elbows, she stared out the window at the forest, blazing with resplendent fall foliage. What was the strange reaction that overpowered her whenever Gabe was near? Her stomach jittered in horror. Maybe her mother's genes would triumph after all. Tessa wanted stability and a family, but perhaps she was fated to follow her hormones through man after man, just like Vivienne.

  She slammed her palms on the counter. No way! Her mother's life was a nightmare example of that tortured path. Tessa refused to follow in Vivienne's destructive footsteps. Her shoulders stiff with resolve, she focused on making coffee and sandwiches. When they were ready, she carried a tray to the small table in the living room. Goose bumps prickled up her arms and she rubbed her hands together. The cabin hadn't been in use, and the room was cold. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, she started a fire.

  A pair of long, tanned bare feet appeared in her line of vision. "I was gonna do that."

  She swallowed hard. Good heavens, even the sight of the man's feet tweaked her libido. She said the fi
rst thing that popped into her mind. "You don't have frog's feet."

  His husky laugh bubbled through her veins like expensive champagne, filling her with a warm, sparkling glow. "I didn't mean literally."

  "Of course not." She leapt up, backing toward the chair. "I made sandwiches and coffee."

  Gabe's brows tilted. "Should I have you taste-test them?"

  "I said I was sorry about that."

  "So you did." One corner of his mouth quirked up. "But remember, honey, payback is hell." He grabbed a sandwich and a mug of coffee and collapsed on the plaid sofa.

  She dropped into a chair beside the fire. The damp sheen of Gabe's hair reflected the dancing flames. He'd changed into snug, faded jeans and a black cotton sweater. Trying to ignore the disturbing zings ricocheting along her nerve endings, she doggedly chewed her sandwich. It tasted like sawdust.

  "So—"

  She jerked, nearly spilling her coffee.

  He shook his head. "You've gotta get a handle on that hair-trigger reflex. Do I still make you nervous?"

  Not in the way he meant. "I was thinking, and you startled me, that's all. How long will we be here?"

  "I don't know. Did you leave the phone in the kitchen?" She nodded, and he rose. "Be right back."

  His low voice murmured from the kitchen. In minutes he returned. For once, his face wore a somber expression, without a hint of levity. Dread hung heavily between them.

  Sighing, he jammed his fingers through his hair. "There's no sugar-coated way to say this. Gregson may be dead."

  Bile swelled in her throat. "Y-you killed him?"

  "No." He dropped onto the sofa and stared down at the green braided rug. "Whoever he works for doesn't have a real subtle job performance evaluation. You escaped, and I saw his face, but he didn't see mine because of the helmet and sunglasses. With his cover blown, he was useless. The local cops found a John Doe in the river, a bullet in the back of his skull. My boss is running his prints. We'll know soon if his real name was Gregson, and if he was genuine FBI." Gabe's intent gaze fastened on her.

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.