BULLETPROOF BRIDE

by Diana Duncan

  Had Gabe made a noise? The last thing they needed was a confrontation. She hurried over to Peter. "But the day I took Carla's place blew your scheme."

  Raking his fingers through his sandy hair, Peter stumbled into the kitchen. "Carla tried to contact me, but was too late. You found the checks." He slumped against the counter. "Drumm told Carla to phone in her resignation, that he'd take care of her. Then she disappeared. He told me he'd hidden her until everything blew over. I had my doubts, but I wanted to believe she was okay. I hung around Leo's club hoping for some word. When I saw you there, I knew they'd gotten to you." Peter began to tremble violently.

  Torn between anger and sympathy, she marched to the sink and filled a glass with water. She handed the water to her friend. A friend who had turned out to be a man she didn't know at all. "How could you let this go so far?"

  "I never dreamed it would turn deadly. It's too late for me, but not for you. I'm going to the police. I can't bear another death on my conscience. I've never trusted Leo. Hell, I would have been an even bigger fool if I had. I stashed evidence in my safe-deposit box at the bank. If I die, the court can open the box." He transferred the water to his left hand, fumbled a safe-deposit box key from his pocket. His fingers shook as he held it out. "This is an extra key. Even if they put me in witness protection, I doubt I'll live to testify. If something happens to me, turn it in anonymously."

  She reached for the key. "Peter, I—"

  Gabe stepped out of hiding. "Don't go to the police. I can help you."

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  « ^ »

  Peter blanched dead white. He whirled. The glass crashed to the floor.

  Gabe held up his hands. "Remember me, Tessa's cousin Val? I can help you. I guarantee you won't get killed, or serve time. I have connections. Tell him, Tessa."

  She nodded. "He'll do what he says. You can trust him."

  Peter shook his head. "I don't know…"

  "Look, you were going to the cops anyway." Gabe's voice was pitched low, soothing. "You said yourself you might end up in prison, or dead. What have you got to lose?"

  "Who are you? Who do you work for?"

  "That's not important. I can get your butt out of the sling. Who would you rather do business with, me or Leo?"

  Tessa gripped Peter's arm. "I'd put my life in his hands without hesitation. You can trust him. My word of honor."

  Peter gulped in a shuddery breath. "What do you want me to do?"

  "What evidence have you got?" Gabe asked.

  "Photocopies of the checks I passed to Leo, the dates and amounts, and some of his phonies. That and my testimony will sink him for counterfeiting. If you can link Carla's death to him, you'll have him on murder."

  Gabe glanced at his watch. "We've barely got time to get to the bank before it closes for the weekend." He grabbed the notepad and pen beside the telephone and scribbled an address and some numbers. "Once we get the evidence, go to this safe house. Here are the codes for the door lock and alarm system. I'll follow you from a discreet distance and make sure you get there in one piece. You won't see me, but I'll be there. Stay put until you hear from me. I also wrote down my private cell number."

  Peter tucked the paper inside his jacket. "I'm supposed to meet Leo sometime in the next few days. He's been on my back to replace Carla and get the operation moving again." He closed his eyes. "Poor Carla, she didn't deserve to die." His eyes flew open, dark with distress. "Should I stall him?"

  "He doesn't suspect you're getting ready to turn on him?"

  "If he did, I'd already be dead."

  "If you can't get out of the meeting without arousing his suspicion, agree to it. I might bag him before then, anyway. I'll call you in twenty-four hours. Until then, sit tight." Gabe glanced at his watch again. "I'm not waiting until Monday to do this. We haven't got time for anything fancy, so this is how it will go down. Peter, I want you to access your safe-deposit box and get the goods. Is your box in the branch vault?"

  "No, I have a private box downstairs in the main vault."

  "I don't want you to have direct contact with Tessa, just in case. Take the evidence to your office and put it in an interoffice envelope. Have it sent immediately to her office. Tessa will stop in after being sick to pick up her mail. That's all you need to know. She and I will discuss the rest on the way over. Go ahead. We'll follow."

  Casting a last anxious, apologetic look at her, Peter left.

  First Lucille, then Dale, now Peter. Apparently, her ability to judge people's character was badly flawed. Who was next? Her stomach clenched. Gabe? Would he also turn into a stranger and let her down?

  They walked silently downstairs to the car. Gabe swung open the passenger door. "You don't mind if I drive this time?" Though his tone was light, his trademark grin was noticeably absent.

  He slid into the driver's seat. "We'll be in a public place. Even if Leo suspected Peter, he'd have to be the biggest idiot on the planet to pull something. And he hasn't kept his operation afloat by acting stupid. This has almost zero risk, or I wouldn't let you do it."

  "I'm not afraid," she lied. She was terrified. But Carla's murder had strengthened her resolve to help catch the criminals responsible.

  "I said almost zero. There's a small chance something could go wrong." He deftly maneuvered the car through snarled rush hour traffic. "So listen up. You say, hi, collect the package, then casually leave. I'll cover you from outside. If it goes to hell, hit the sidewalk. If anything happens to me, get inside, lock the doors and call this number." He recited a phone number and made her repeat it twice. "Say, 'Falcon Three,' tell them your location and that you need an extraction, code red-five. They'll rescue you and retrieve the evidence."

  "Translation? I don't happen to speak spy."

  "You don't have to understand. Just do it."

  Gabe's pep talk eliminated her fear. For herself. Instead, her imagination conjured up gory images of the terrible "something" that could befall him. Her blood chilled. She rubbed her icy hands together. "Nothing—" her teeth chattered and she clamped them together "—will happen." She silently repeated the mantra. By the time they arrived at the bank, she almost had herself convinced.

  Gabe stopped the car halfway up the block, but left the engine idling. He studied her, his expression grim. "Ready?"

  She managed a jerky nod, and he squeezed her shoulder. "Okay, sweetheart, it's gonna be a walk in the park. But stay on your toes."

  She steeled her nerves and exited the car. Clutching her briefcase, she willed herself to casually walk to the bank, push open the glass doors and stroll inside.

  The office hummed with pre-closing Friday rush. A dozen customers impatiently waited in line, and four account representatives had clients at their desks.

  Darcy waved from behind a window. "Are you feeling better?"

  She forced a smile and friendly nod. Inside her office, a foot-high stack of papers towered precariously on her desk. The phone rang, and she jumped. She snatched up the receiver, praying that it wouldn't be Peter calling with bad news. "Hello?" she said cautiously.

  "It's about time!" Edwin Trask's voice bellowed over the line. "Do you know what I've been through the last three days?"

  Since she handled the job every day, she was pretty sure she did. "I have a general idea."

  He harrumphed. "This doesn't look good on your record. You've been taking entirely too much time off lately. I'm glad you're back. Now I won't have to come down and oversee closing."

  She gripped the receiver tighter. "I'm afraid you will. I'm still not feeling a hundred percent. I merely came in to pick up my mail and paperwork and then I'm leaving again."

  "It sounds like you don't want that promotion."

  "Yes, I do. But my health comes first." She raised her chin. "I've been considering revamping my diet and exercise. I've had time to watch TV while I've been ill and those ads for the Ab Annihilator and the Bun Buster look enticing. Whoever developed the concept is a genius. P
erhaps we could contact the owner to sponsor an employee fitness program."

  Thirty seconds of silence ticked by. She pictured Trask's mustache twitching like a centipede in the throes of a convulsion, and smiled.

  Finally he spoke very quietly. "Ah, taking care of yourself until you feel completely well is wise. I'll arrive shortly to close out the office."

  Her smile broadened into a grin as she hung up. She'd learned a thing or two from Mr. Bond.

  She glanced at the clock. Five minutes until closing. Surely Peter should have sent the evidence by now. She piled the backlog of papers inside her briefcase. Her anxious gaze darted around the lobby. Most of the customers had left. Staring at the elevator, she willed the doors to open and discharge a company courier carrying a bright yellow envelope.

  The final five minutes dragged by. No courier appeared. Mr. Trask arrived. Without looking in her direction, he stalked behind the teller windows to supervise the cash-outs.

  Darcy popped into her office. She tilted her head, inspecting Tessa's face. "That must have been one nasty bug. You look as pale as Casper."

  Tessa forced out the second smile in ten minutes for Darcy's benefit. "I'll be fine."

  "That new guy, Bond? He's been absent, too. You know, underneath his nerdy clothes and Jerry Lewis glasses, he's not bad. If someone did a makeover on him, he'd be hot. He's got a really sexy tush. Course, he'd need braces."

  To Tessa's immense relief, a young man wearing the office mail uniform rushed in. "Priority interoffice delivery."

  Thank heavens. And just in time to head off a discussion about Gabe's sexy tush.

  She sent Darcy on her way and signed for the envelope with trembling hands. After locking the evidence in her briefcase, she crossed the lobby. Pausing at the door, she scrubbed her sweaty palms on her slacks, took a deep breath and stepped warily outside.

  Expecting a bullet to slam between her shoulder blades any moment, she scurried up the sidewalk. Her head swiveled as she tried to watch beside, in front, and behind her at the same time. Appearing nonchalant was difficult when she was quivering like a nervous Chihuahua. "Gabe trusts me," she muttered. "I can do this." The walk lasted an agonizing eternity. Finally, she reached the car. Heaving a huge sigh, she collapsed into the passenger seat.

  Gabe's solemn, tense gaze studied her face. "You okay?"

  Other than a close encounter with a nervous breakdown, no problem. "Yes. What happens next?"

  He eased the car into bumper-to-bumper traffic. "We make sure Peter gets to the safe house, then we go back to my house."

  A surge of triumph rocketed through her, and she grinned. She'd delivered the evidence Gabe needed to catch the bad guys. This spy stuff wasn't so tough after all. No wonder he got a kick out of it.

  He remained quiet for the remainder of the trip, his vigilant gaze constantly checking the mirrors. She didn't interrupt his concentration, but sat silently, savoring her victory.

  Once they arrived at the cottage, he performed a thorough search of the premises. "We're secure. I'm going to check the evidence and stash the envelope where no one but me has access. Then 'Val' will message Leo requesting a meeting to exchange evidence for money. I'll be back soon. In the remote chance anything should happen, use the emergency phone procedure."

  Her euphoria withered. Gabe was going to blackmail the man who had killed both Gregson and Carla. And two other federal officers. She'd forgotten obtaining the evidence wasn't the end. The real action had only begun. With Gabe smack in the middle. Then he'd leave her.

  If he survived.

  Her chills rushed back with a vengeance.

  He tucked the envelope inside his jacket. "You did a great job. Why don't you put your feet up and relax?" Giving her a jaunty wave, he strode out.

  Fat chance. Hoping to warm up, she put on a sweater. She called Mel and satisfied her friend's questions with a wild story about a federal audit shaking up the bank, and Val needing support while he hid from a jealous lover named André. To Tessa's dismay, creating blatant lies off the top of her head was becoming so second-nature that the woman who knew her better than anyone easily bought her crazy tale.

  For the first hour, she paced the floor. A headache began to chip away at her temples. The sweater didn't stop her chills, so she drank two cups of instant coffee, barely tasting the vile brew.

  The second hour, she peered anxiously out the window every thirty seconds. Her head was ready to explode, her stomach twisted into knots. And she was still freezing.

  Approaching hour three, she chewed her manicured nails to the quick, drawing blood. She studied her ravaged hands in disgust. She'd conquered that bad habit in the third grade. How could she help but worry? The man she loved was out throwing himself to the wolves.

  "This is ridiculous," she told her pale reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. "He's a grown spy." Shivering, she rubbed her icy hands together. "Brr. It's cold in here." She busied herself by building a fire.

  Finally, the Corvette rumbled into the driveway.

  Gabe strolled in the door, all masculine grace and power, as relaxed as if he'd been on a pleasure cruise.

  "How did it go?" she asked evenly, amazed when her voice didn't crack into a shrieking howl.

  "Peachy. Any trouble here?"

  "No." Unless you counted an even closer encounter with a nervous breakdown. If she was going to keep helping him, she better stock up on antacids, ibuprofen and acrylic nails. "What now?"

  He grinned. "I ladled out the chum. Now we wait for the shark to bite."

  The following morning would have been Tessa's wedding day. Gabe had been watching the news for an hour when she walked into the living room. She was dressed in a softer style than her usual business suit, in a long dark green skirt and creamy blouse with a matching green sweater. Her standard pumps had been replaced by flat-soled black suede boots. He tried to ignore the catch in his chest at the sight of her. "Nice duds."

  She looked down at herself. "I like this skirt. The cut disguises my…" She trailed off, color flooding her cheeks.

  He let his admiring gaze deliberately stroke her from head to toe, and enjoyed watching her rosy cheeks redden further. "No part of you needs camouflage, honey." He nodded at the TV. "A big storm is barreling in off the Pacific. I guess it's not wise to make Steel Lucille angry." He grinned. "We should have thrown a bucket of water on her at the church and finished her off." He sang a Munchkin chorus of "Ding-dong the witch is dead."

  "Not nice," she choked, swiveling toward the television. But he caught a glimpse of the smile that flitted across her face. He loved making her laugh. From what he'd heard about her childhood, she'd had far too little joy in her life. She coughed several times before speaking again. "Do you have provisions in case the electricity goes out?"

  "A few. But stocking up isn't a bad idea. Storm's not supposed to hit until afternoon, so we've got time."

  To his amazement, the mundane chore turned into fun. He and Tessa bantered through the supermarket's crowded aisles, and teased each other while they waited in a mile-long checkout.

  By the time he swung the car into the driveway, heavy black storm clouds blotted out the sun, turning the midday sky as dark as twilight. Droplets of rain spattered the windshield.

  They struggled up the sidewalk with the first batch of groceries. He had to shout over the rising wind and pelting rain. "You start a fire and I'll bring in the rest."

  She staggered inside and dropped her bags on the dining-room table. "No, I'll help."

  "I'll get it. You put the milk and cold stuff away."

  She frowned. "I'm not some delicate pansy that can't handle a little wind and rain."

  Maybe so, but he didn't want her out in the storm. "Did I say that?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I'm starving. The sooner the food gets put away, the quicker we can chow down."

  "You've got a hollow leg, Mr. Bond. As much as you eat, you should weigh three hundred pounds. What sounds good?"

  "High metabolis
m." Laughing, he dumped his load and strode toward the door. "Three or four sandwiches would be great."

  He brought in the remaining bags. After checking the flashlights, he positioned candles on the fireplace mantel. Then he kicked off his wet shoes and stripped off his socks, stretching his bare feet toward the warm, crackling flames.

  Tessa had just set steaming bowls of tomato soup and a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches on the table when his cell phone chirped. She jerked upright, color leaching from her face. "Leo?" she whispered.

  He pressed the phone to his ear, and his boss's gravelly voice rumbled over the line. Shaking his head no at Tessa, Gabe hurried to his bedroom to take the call. Her part was finished. He didn't want her sucked any farther into this mess.

  When he returned, she stood frozen in the same spot.

  "My boss with last-minute details." Her tense posture eased, but she was trembling. "C'mon, Houdini, let's eat. That grub looks great."

  She relaxed somewhat over lunch, but her face remained ashen. The anticipated call from Leo really had her on edge. He stacked his dishes in the dishwasher, and she remained silent while doing the same.

  He hated to see her all uptight and worried. Maybe he could distract her, cheer her up. "Want to play a game?"

  A wary expression creased her brows. "What kind of game?"

  "Oh, ye of little faith." He smiled with exaggerated innocence. "There's a Monopoly board in the closet. What did you think I was going to suggest?"

  A rosy blush pinkened her pale cheeks. "After your handcuff stunt, who knows?" She smiled back at him. "Monopoly is fine. Nothing kinky involved."

  The next several hours passed in playful conversation and laughter while she ruthlessly drove him to bankruptcy. Finally, he threw down his last piece of property in mock disgust. "I should have known better than to play Monopoly with a banker."

  The wind and rain had risen steadily all afternoon, and the day had darkened as black as midnight. Without warning, a heavy gust of wind slammed into the side of the house. An earsplitting boom exploded outside. Tessa nearly leapt out of her chair. The lights flickered, then went out.