by F F Perez
I grabbed his hair and ground down on his lap, rubbing against his throbbing shaft. The friction caused tingling bolts of fire to shoot through my body. Lance switched his mouth to the nipple in between his fingers, his hips grinding in time with mine while his hand tugged on my other damp nipple. I could feel something building within me, urging me to grind harder and faster on his lap. We both panted as the pressure and heat built.
The car came to a screeching halt, throwing us against the partition. Muttering curses, Lance pushed me off his lap. I snatched up my shirt and bra, scrambling to put them back on. I managed my bra, but Lance had completely ruined my shirt. Glaring at him, I tucked it into my skirt, crossing the ends in a way that covered most of my chest. Lance wasn’t paying any attention, however. He was busy trying to figure out how to roll the partition down. Rolling my eyes, I slammed my palm down on the right button and tried to look innocent as Jim turned around to look at us.
“What’s going on?” Lance barked. “Why have we stopped?”
“The road’s blocked,” Jim answered, frowning as he took in my flushed face and messy clothes. “There was an accident. It was just a fender bender, but we might be stuck here for a minute or two.”
Lance frowned. He bent down and took a small gun out of a holster strapped to his ankle. I stared at him, my hair standing on end as he handed me the small gun.
“Do you know how to shoot?” he asked.
“Kind of,” I squeaked.
“Shoot first and ask questions later.” His voice had a slight edge to it.
“Wait, what?” I asked, but he ignored me. He took the gun at his hip out of its holster and flicked the safety off.
“Stay here,” he commanded, sliding out of the car and slamming the door behind him.
I looked at Jim, but he just glanced around nervously. My heart pounded in my chest as we waited for Lance to come back. I prayed it was just an accident and nothing more that had made us stop. This roller coaster ride of emotions was driving me insane.
After a few more minutes of tense silence, I gingerly opened the car door and poked my head out, gazing down the street and into the dark alley beside us.
Chapter Six: Lance
Peering into the darkness, I tried to get a look at the person who had jumped from the wrecked car and taken off down the nearby alley. I could sense a human presence but couldn’t see anyone. I crept forward, my gun raised and ready to shoot. A crash behind me caused me to whip around. Nancy stood at there, gripping the gun I had handed her.
“I thought I told you to wait in the car,” I hissed as she walked closer.
“Last I checked, I didn’t take orders from you,” she snapped back.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I had never known someone so reckless with her own life. She didn’t answer me but peered down the alleyway around my shoulder. I pushed her back toward the entrance. “Go back and wait in the car where it’s safe.”
“I don’t know who you think you are—” she hissed, but I stopped her from talking with a hand over her mouth.
Two dark bodies had blocked the way out of the alley. Nancy’s eyes widened, and she gasped into my hand as she stared behind me. I turned to find the person I had been looking for stepping out of the shadows, leaving us surrounded in the dark alley.
“Fuck,” I breathed, grabbing Nancy and pushing her into a nearby doorway.
Using my gun would only put Nancy in more danger. It was too small a space, and I couldn’t see well enough in the darkness. It was better for me to disarm our attackers than to shoot at them. I holstered my gun in a fluid motion, rocking into a fighting stance without a second thought.
Years of muscle memory made it easy to disarm the first two attackers before they even realized what I was doing. Their guns clattered into the dark alley. I used the darkness to my advantage as I lashed out at the three men and melted back into the shadows in quick succession. The poorly trained men had a hard time getting a read on where I was. It was only my twelve years of intensive martial arts training that allowed me to focus on what I heard, abandoning the sense of sight all together.
Circling around the three attackers, I lashed a hand out at the only one left armed, catching his wrist and causing his gun to skid across the ground. The most recently disarmed man punched out at the place I had been standing, but I had already moved around him. Reaching around his neck, I put him in a chokehold. The other two rushed me, but I held them off long enough for the man under my arm to black out. One attacker grabbed me from behind. I twisted arm and drove my knee up into his stomach. When he doubled over, I slammed that knee into his face, breaking his nose.
The last attacker eyed me warily, then turned tail and ran. I took off after him, Nancy at my heels when a loud crack stopped us both in our tracks. The attacker must have picked up the gun on the way out of the alleyway, but who had he shot? We were both standing here.
“Jim,” Nancy breathed, making my stomach drop.
Nancy ran toward the car with me close behind her. She skidded to a halt when she came upon a body lying face down on the pavement. A crowd of people was gathering at the fringes, and I knew we had only minutes before the police arrived.
“Oh, Jim,” Nancy whispered, rolling the old man over gently.
He was already dead, blood soaking the front of his shirt. He must have seen the men, heard the scuffle, and come to help us. To help Nancy.
“Oh, god. No,” Nancy sobbed, leaning over Jim’s body, clutching his jacket in her fists.
I placed my hand on her head in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, knowing there were no words I could say to make this better. Snatching my cell phone out of the backseat of the car, I called my father and gave him a brief status report. He assured me he would send a clean-up crew and told me to wait to give the police our statement, then leave as soon as possible.
There was no time to waste. We would wed in secret and then fly off on a honeymoon the next morning. My mother would meet us at the nearest chapel in two hours. Thankfully, we were in Las Vegas, and the nearest chapel wasn’t far away. We could walk there.
It didn’t take the police long to show up. The detectives that arrived were the same ones handling the murder of Nancy’s father. We told them what happened and declined police protection. I couldn’t be sure that Jameson didn’t have people under his thumb in law enforcement.
After we gave the police our statement, I grabbed Nancy’s purse and my bag from the back of the car. Slipping back into the shadows, I pulled Nancy back down the street, away from Jim’s body and the police. She was shaking, but had stopped crying and didn’t put up any resistance. No doubt she was in shock. It was only a matter of time before that wore off. I wanted to be safely married before that happened.
“Where are we going?” Nancy whispered from beside me.
“To get married.”
“What?” Nancy asked, jerking her hand out of mine.
I snatched it back up and continued pulling her down the street. “There isn’t any more time. If we want this plan to work, we need to do it right now. Then, tomorrow, we’re getting on a plane and flying far away from here on our honeymoon. Hopefully, our marriage will either anger Jameson enough to act out so we can get him or he’ll retreat to rethink his plans and Malcolm will have time to gather evidence against him. Either way, you’re safer out of Vegas—and out of the country.”
“How will we catch Jameson if we’re out of the country?” Nancy asked stubbornly.
“Malcolm will handle that. That is not my job. My job is to protect you, and the best way to protect you is to get you out of the line of fire. You will marry me tonight and you will go with me on our honeymoon tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Nancy snapped. “How could I say no to that?” she grumbled under her breath before descending into silence again.
I felt a little like a bully. The poor woman had lost her father only three months ago and had just seen someone obviously very close to her shot a
nd killed. But at least she was alive. And if I had to act like a bully to keep her that way, I would. I pulled her down another street before glancing at my phone. My mother had sent coordinates to the wedding chapel, and the GPS told me it wasn’t much farther. Maybe another mile. We made good time, bursting through the chapel doors less than a half hour later.
My mother was waiting in the lobby for us, talking fast with what looked to be the minister. The chapel she’d chosen wasn’t gaudy like so many others in Vegas, but was instead plain but tasteful. It looked, inside and out, like a small cottage in the woods. Tranquil pictures of mountain scenes and rivers adorned the walls; just what the two of us needed after the last few hours. I doubted this was the closest chapel to the crime scene, but it was probably the closest one that matched my mother’s sensibilities.
My mother rushed over and tossed a garment bag at me. “Change into that.”
I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Satisfied I would obey, she took Nancy’s arm in a gentle grip. “Nancy, I found a dress I think will fit you. Why don’t you come with me to change?”
I looked up, surprised. It was one thing to find a tux for your son last minute, but to find a wedding gown for a woman you just met? My mother sure knew how to pull off miracles.
Sensing my gaze, my mother looked back at me and gestured at a small bouquet. I got the hint that I should give them to Nancy later. Nodding, I watched them leave before heading to my own dressing room. For some reason, I still felt like a bully, and the thought irked me. I was only trying to protect Nancy.
Of one thing I was certain: the next time I saw William Jameson, it would take every ounce of self-control I possessed not to wring his neck with my bare hands.
Chapter Seven: Nancy
Elizabeth led me into a side room decorated in soft pink and ivory. She pushed me into an overstuffed armchair before laying the garment bag in her arms down on a small couch. Pulling another chair in front of the one I was sitting in, she rummaged around in a small duffel bag at my feet. Makeup, brushes, and a curling iron came out of the bag in quick succession.
“You came prepared,” I remarked wryly.
She made a sound at the back of her throat that sounded like a tsk. “I hardly had any time at all. Malcolm called me and told me what happened. The makeup is mine, but we have similar coloring, so it should work just fine for you.”
“And the dress?”
“Well, the dress is also mine. When I heard you and Lance were getting married so soon, I thought I’d bring it since I hadn’t had the chance to find one.”
“How do you know it will fit me? And are you sure you want me to wear your wedding dress to this sham of a wedding?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I have an eye for sizes. I can guess them pretty well from a glance. You’re a little smaller than me, but this dress is from before I had children, so I estimate you’re close to the size I was back then.”
“You didn’t answer my other question.”
“I don’t put much stock in possessions, dear. A dress is a dress. My dress doesn’t define my marriage. We needed one in a pinch, so I brought mine. It’s as simple as that.”
I narrowed my eyes. Something didn’t add up. If Elizabeth didn’t put stock in possessions, as she put it, then why would she keep her dress all this time? Why not just give it away?
Unfortunately, I had little time to dwell on the mystery of the wedding dress before Elizabeth’s deft hands were washing, prepping, and primping my face. After she applied my makeup to her satisfaction, she combed her fingers through my long mane of hair.
“Your hair is so beautiful,” she murmured. “It would be a shame to hide it.”
She curled it into elegant ringlets and then clipped a small portion up, keeping it out of my face but letting it cascade down my back in a shower of curls and waves. I had to admit that the result was breath-taking. The process had also taken quite a while which I knew had to be making Lance antsy, a realization that brought a smirk to my face. As if he had sensed my amusement, Lance sent in an agent to ask Elizabeth how much longer we would be.
“It will take however long it will take,” she snapped, glaring at the agent.
He flushed and, nodding, left the room.
My smirk turned into a full-blown wicked grin at the thought of making Lance wait a little longer, but it quickly faded as I watched Elizabeth pull lacy, white underclothes from her duffel.
“Please tell me those aren’t from your wedding, too,” I said, my voice tinged with a panic that had nothing to do with where the lingerie came from and everything to do with what it was for.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elizabeth laughed. “We’re in Vegas. I got these in a hotel gift shop.”
“Well, I really don’t think they’ll be necessary,” I squeaked.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Your underwear is black,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And black will definitely show through a white wedding gown. Also, let’s be honest with each other for a second. I’ve seen the way Lance looks at you and I’ve seen the way you look at him. The other agents have also seen, ahem, incidents they had no issue passing along to me when I got here. Add all of that up with the fact that Lance could charm the pants off anyone, and we have ourselves a near guarantee that your honeymoon will be much less of a so-called sham than your wedding.”
I blushed furiously. Elizabeth smirked and handed me the lacy undergarments, pushing me behind a folding screen. I reluctantly shed my black panties and bra, deciding I would never wear any color but nude again. I picked up the lacy bundle of white and unfolded it.
Oh, for goodness’ sake, I thought, drawing in a deep breath. The woman bought me a fucking corset. Found it in a gift shop, my ass!
Sighing in irritation, I unfolded the panties. They were soft white cotton edged in lace. The cut was not quite a thong but also not quite full coverage. Okay, I thought. These aren’t so bad.
I slipped them on and then glared down at the corset. After I pulled it over my head, careful to avoid my curls, I poked my head out from behind the folding screen.
“I’m going to need help with these laces,” I snapped. “I’m not a contortionist.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and beckoned me forward. She laced the corset with dexterity and efficiency that belied her knowledge of such things. I sniffed with indignation while twirling one of my long curls nervously.
“Oh stop it,” Elizabeth chuckled. “You look amazing. And it is your wedding. Who cares if it’s real or not? Enjoy yourself a little.”
She walked over to a small counter and poured clear liquor from a bottle into two glasses. Walking back over, she handed me a glass, and then, raising hers in my general direction, she took a sip.
“So, did Lance ever charm the pants off you?” I asked, sniffing my glass before taking a small sip.
Elizabeth choked on her drink. Alarmed, I patted her firmly on the back. I couldn’t tell if her shock at my question was a good thing or a bad thing. But before she could answer me, the door banged open and Lance stomped into the room.
His glare fell first on Elizabeth before turning to me, which was when he stopped dead in the middle of the room. His eyes burned as they travelled from my toes all the way up in a slow heated examination of my body.
Flushing, I tossed my hair behind my shoulder and placed my free hand on my hip. “Don’t you knock?”
His dark eyes met mine. Something primal and savage lurked just beneath the surface of his gaze, and I found myself longing to draw it out.
He blinked, hiding the fire within him behind emotionless eyes.
“The minister’s waiting. In fact, we’ve all been waiting for two hours,” he said, clearing his throat and turning his gaze to Elizabeth. “How much longer do you think you’ll be?”
“Just a few more minutes,” Elizabeth said, a knowing smile spreading across her face.
Lance nodded, then turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
“To answer your earlier question, my dear,” Elizabeth said, unzipping the garment bag and helping me step into a cloud of white. “I am married to Malcolm and have been the entire time I have known Lance. And, if the last ten seconds are any indication, I think your pants will be the last Lance ever charms off.”
I gave her a doubtful look. Yeah, right, I thought, grimacing. This is a fake wedding. Lance doesn’t care about me. He’s only doing his job. Just because he likes my body, it doesn’t mean he likes me.
It was something I would do well to remember in the coming days. The wounds from my father’s death were still raw, and I was loath to court any more heartache. Lance would just have to stay at a distance.
I turned and glanced into the full-length mirror. I hardly recognized myself. Elizabeth had been right about the fit of the gown. White chiffon cascaded down from just under my bust until it pooled on the floor at my feet. The dress had a sweetheart neckline edged in lace with two lace strips resting over my shoulders and lace appliques and beadwork decorating the bodice. The corset I was wearing underneath did a nice job lifting my breasts, and the sweetheart neckline emphasized my cleavage. Turning slightly, I studied the back of the dress in the mirror. I pulled my hair forward, admiring the peekaboo cut that showed off my back and shoulders. The lacework continued around the back, covering the top of my shoulders and neck, but leaving my back exposed from the bottom of my shoulder blades to my waist. Ribbons crisscrossed there in a corset-like design that added more lift to my breasts when Elizabeth tightened them. Lace and chiffon tumbled down from my hips, ending in a small beaded train.
Elizabeth turned me to face her. Reaching her arms above my head, she secured a small lace-trimmed veil into the curls she had clipped there. Sighing, she took a few steps back to admire her handiwork.
“You look beautiful,” she breathed. “And I think it’s time to get you married.”