Bridal Armor

by Debra Webb

  “Aren’t you?”

  “A little, yes.” The drilled taillight and the marked currency made her wonder what else the people setting up Thomas might have done. What else they might know. Too bad she hadn’t thought to pack a signal jammer. “Does it even matter?”

  “It matters to me.”

  “Sorry. I was thinking out loud.”

  He turned the wiper blades to high and adjusted the defrost setting. “May as well share.”

  “I was scolding myself for not packing a signal jammer and wondering, based on our circumstances, if it would have made any difference.”

  His shoulders hitched. “Fair question.”

  “Does this number mean anything to you?” she read off the phone number.

  “What kind of paper is that?”

  “It’s a euro. I recognized the country of origin by the serial number. Germany.”

  He didn’t say anything else, and he had that famous inscrutable expression on his face, but she felt the tension radiating off of him. She shouldn’t read much into the reaction. For all she knew the storm and lack of visible road signs were getting under his skin.

  “Where did the euro come from?”

  “Someone left it in the car. The locked car. Right on top of my duffel bag to be precise.”

  “Theories?”

  “I haven’t had a lot of time to work up any theories,” she admitted.

  “You’ve got time now.”

  Based on his reaction, and the way he diverted the topic, she had to assume he recognized the number. Would that be a benefit or a hindrance moving forward?

  “Theory number one, the one that brought me out here this weekend, is that someone is here in Denver gunning for you.”

  He snorted. “That’s not a theory, it’s a fact. Someone somewhere is always gunning for me.”

  His stomach tightened at the truth she already knew. “I’m sure, but who really knows how to find you?”

  “The Initiative,” he said with bitter intensity.

  “That’s your theory. And it’s flawed because whether you believe me or not, I am on your side.”

  “That’s just one of my theories.” He squinted out at the road again. “There’s something else on your mind.”

  “Theory two is I’ve been set up by someone and making you look bad is a convenient bonus.”

  “Cross me off the suspect list.” He swore, checked the rearview mirror and backed up to make the turn he’d missed. “I haven’t thought about you in years.”

  “Oh, stop. Such praise will go straight to my head.” She cursed herself for feeling those words all the way to her bones.

  “Truth hurts sometimes.”

  It might hurt more if she believed it. Yes, he’d walked away from the leading edge of a relationship she thought had great potential. His reasoning had been clear from the beginning of their time together. His work wasn’t just important to him, it had global implications. Being involved with someone, caring about them, gave the enemy an easy target.

  The very act of staying unattached told her just how important she was to him. How important she had been at one time, anyway.

  As a member of the small, shadowy community of intelligence agencies she understood his concerns completely. It was no coincidence she’d adopted his philosophy and avoided lasting personal relationships when she landed her current post.

  “We could always go with the classic theory that it’s all a bad dream,” she offered, trying to lighten the mood. The fact was at this point, with a blizzard interrupting communication, theories and educated guesses wouldn’t help them much.

  “I could get behind that one. But my cold, wet feet and ruined shoes are proof enough of an annoying reality for me. I don’t suppose you packed anything in my size.”

  “Not in the car, no.”

  “Because you expected me to be unconscious?”

  “It might have been a contributing factor.” A dreadful thought occurred to her. “Your tuxedo for the wedding wasn’t in your suitcase, was it?”

  “No. It was delivered directly to the resort.”

  “Finally something is going our way.”

  He slid a dubious glance at her. “You can’t really expect me to believe the wedding is a primary goal for you.”

  “It’s important to you, so it’s important to me that we get you there in one piece.”

  “Does anyone know about your hideaway?”

  “Anyone?”

  “Don’t be obtuse, Jo. You know what I’m asking.”

  “No one at work knows. I rented it with my mother’s maiden name.”

  “That’s an easy enough personal detail to uncover. Please tell me you didn’t search for the property or call the agent from your office?”

  “No,” she said though gritted teeth. “I’m not a fool. I picked up the assignment and developed a plan of action based on the information and implications.”

  “What are the implications?”

  “Bogus. Dangerous. That’s why I’m here.” If Thomas Casey was a traitor, she’d tender her resignation as soon as the weather cleared. “We learned about the outbreak, discovered the virus you recovered from the Germany mission is missing and...” Her voice trailed off. It made her sick just to think it. She didn’t want to say it aloud.

  “And?”

  She swallowed, but it did nothing to clear the bad taste from her mouth caused by the outrageous accusation. “And received an anonymous tip that you plan to sell another vial of the virus while you’re here for the wedding.”

  “Any kind of confirmation on that tip?” His quiet tone did nothing to dull the lethal edge behind the question.

  “Your supposed buyer has been in the country for several months with a diplomatic detail.”

  “Whose diplomatic detail?”

  Inside she cringed. “I was told I didn’t need to know. However, four weeks ago with the support of U.S. officials, the criminal known as Whelan entered the country to assist with the takedown because he claims he can identify the buyer.”

  “Convenient excuse.” Thomas flexed his hands on the steering wheel.

  His reaction worried her. She’d heard the rumors about his history with Whelan, but her search for accurate details had come up empty. Considering the close call at the airport, her personal vendetta theory was gaining traction. But that didn’t explain away the outbreak or the potential virus sale. “The agency that arranged for his assistance needs the deal to go through so they can arrest both the seller—you—and the buyer.”

  Expecting an outburst, an immediate protest or at least another question, she found his prolonged silence at that revelation unnerving. She knew he was processing, had been trying to figure the angle on all of this since she led him away from his anticipated wedding agenda.

  He downshifted to get up the next hill. “So the armchair quarterbacks and their perfect hindsight vision have decided to dig my grave, literally and figuratively, when I’m distracted with my niece’s wedding. That’s cold. Even for the Initiative.”

  “As a committee we are not behind this.”

  “Says the woman who doesn’t know the source.”

  “I admit that looks bad, but I purposely took this on in order to protect you and prevent what looks to me like a more personal vendetta.”

  “Protect me,” he muttered. “From the Initiative or from something else?”

  How to tell him? How was less important than what, she decided, and sharing what she knew might help him trust her faster.

  “My committee received intel that you already sold the virus to one extremist group and this new buyer is a line back into the Isely family.”

  “Bull. We eliminated them as a player five years ago. That was the whole point of the Oberammergau mission. It was considered a successful takedown.”

  “I remember.” All too well. She remembered the bruises and burns on his body when he’d made it—two hours late—to the rendezvous point. She’d driven through the night acr
oss the mountain and into Austria while he pretended he wasn’t wounded. He’d joked about padding the expense account when she checked into the most extravagant hotel in the area.

  She remembered turning up the music on the radio as she dug a bullet out of his back, the marble and mirrors of the luxurious bathroom serving as cold, silent witnesses. It hadn’t made the task easier. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the bright red trickle of his blood swirling in the drain of the white porcelain bathtub.

  “Which is why I’m here. Someone thinks they are back in business. I thought you might take the news better from me.”

  “Who’s the source? What are your orders?”

  “As I said, the source was need-to-know, but I was assured the information is verified and legitimate.”

  He swore. She couldn’t blame him; she felt the same way working in the dark like this. “My thinking was we’d review who had the most to gain from this kind of allegation and trace it backward to the real source.”

  He was quiet a long time, focused on the slippery roadway she assumed, as they slogged up the mountain toward the cabin.

  “How can you run any sort of valid investigation if you don’t have all the facts?”

  “Come on, Thomas, you already know the answer. We work in the shadows and follow orders. If you have facts to share, I’m all ears.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was the lousy condition of the road or the fading adrenaline, but Thomas didn’t seem eager to give her any reply. Pushing him felt counterproductive, so she used the silence to pray they could figure this out before his enemies caught up with them.

  Chapter Six

  Glenstone Lodge, 7:00 p.m.

  Victoria Colby-Camp looked out over the muted landscape that fell away from the wide windows of the chalet resort. In just a few short hours, what had been a stunning view full of color had turned into something more appropriate for the monochromatic beauty of an Ansel Adams exhibit.

  “We certainly went from autumn to winter in record time.” She couldn’t help being in awe of nature’s power. “It only adds to the beauty up here.”

  “I doubt anyone trying to drive through it would agree with you,” her husband noted.

  She thought of his car accident during a case in Texas and rubbed the resulting chill from her arms. “Lucas, you said Thomas would stay in Denver tonight.” She hoped he wouldn’t attempt reaching the lodge in this weather.

  “And he will. Don’t worry about him, he’s safe. You look lovely.” He kissed her softly, and her heart fluttered. Even after all these years his touch thrilled her. “Almost perfect.”

  “Almost?” She caught the teasing tone and leaned back, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

  He drew a slim, velvet box from his jacket pocket. “Something to commemorate the occasion.”

  “Occasion?”

  “An entire resort full of friends who have become our family? There have been plenty of our investigators who’ve married, but this feels like a milestone. The interlinking of the very best, the Colby Agency and the CIA, with the solemn vows of marriage.”

  “Hmm. I could get used to this.” Victoria opened the box and couldn’t suppress a sigh. “Oh, Lucas, it’s gorgeous.” Sapphires sparkled among diamonds in a gleaming platinum setting. “Help me put it on. My hands are shaking.”

  “You’re steady as a rock about everything else,” he said with a smile.

  “I’m entitled to a weakness.” She kissed him. “Or two.”

  They left their suite to join the party downstairs, meeting Ian and Nicole Michaels at the elevator. Ian had long been Victoria’s second-in-command at the Colby Agency. He had been at her side almost from the beginning.

  “This was the best idea,” Nicole said to Victoria while they waited. “Every room has an amazing view. We saw some deer out near the trees before the storm rolled in. The children were ecstatic.”

  The four of them boarded the elevator and Victoria’s heart was full seeing the people she cared about most so happy and content. Though her agency worked hard to be the best in the business of private investigations, Lucas was right: these people were their family.

  “It may be a wedding party,” Ian said with a wink for his wife, “but this kind of snowfall requires more than a mere snowball fight. I’m going to have the groom add an all-out war to tomorrow’s schedule.”

  “Choose sides carefully,” Nicole threatened. “I think the bride has the groom wrapped tightly around her little finger. Levi may not be entirely dependable.”

  “What do you think?” Ian looked to Lucas. “Boys against the girls?”

  The elevator doors parted. “Only if you’re prepared to lose.”

  Nicole elbowed her husband. “Now there is an intelligent man.”

  Victoria smiled. It wasn’t often the Colby family, much less anyone from the CIA and its Mission Recovery team, could just relax and enjoy.

  As they entered the great room, Victoria’s breath caught. The decorator had outdone himself. Despite the rustic lodge setting, the white satin bows and the elaborate flower arrangements added the perfect element of bridal glamour. White candles flickered amid bowls of what looked like pearls. Yet it was the bride and groom-to-be who positively glowed as they chatted with Levi’s mother near the massive stone fireplace.

  Casey spotted them and hurried over. After a quick hug and an admiring examination of Victoria’s new bracelet, she turned to Lucas. “Have you heard from Uncle Thomas?” Her bright smile dimmed just a little. “He hasn’t called Mom or me.”

  “His plane landed on time,” Lucas assured her. “He considered hoofing in on a pair of cross-country skis, but I told him to stay in Denver tonight.”

  “There’s an image,” Casey said with a quick laugh. “I just expected him to call me when he landed.”

  Though she doubted anyone else noticed, Victoria saw the brief flicker of surprise in Lucas’s eyes.

  “With this kind of storm the networks must be swamped and there are probably localized power outages already.” Lucas wrapped an arm around the bride’s shoulder, guiding her back into the party. “No reason to worry. The roads will be clear enough for him to travel tomorrow.”

  Casey took a deep breath and smiled as Levi joined them. “Uncle Thomas is safe in Denver,” she told her husband-to-be.

  “That’s great news.” Levi was clearly relieved, as well. “The weathercasters say this monster storm will be long gone by our wedding day.”

  As the delighted couple drifted off to chat with other guests, Victoria gave Lucas a pointed look. He’d gone way overboard in his assurances. Something was up.

  “Would you like some wine?”

  “Chardonnay, please,” she answered. “But that won’t distract me from wondering what you’re up to.”

  “Terrible to waste good wine and good company worrying over what can’t be changed.”

  She shrugged a shoulder and turned on a bright smile. “You’ll tell me eventually.”

  Though he’d been surprised by Thomas’s lack of communication with his niece, Victoria knew her husband well enough to know he wasn’t particularly worried about his friend. Come to think of it, he wasn’t the sort of man one worried about. Thomas Casey was James Bond personified. There was little he couldn’t overcome with a roll of duct tape and a toothpick.

  Lucas cleared his throat. “In the meantime, we’re snowbound in a beautiful chalet with good food and people who love each other. I, for one, intend to enjoy it thoroughly.”

  With a glass of wine in her hand, Victoria visited with the bride’s mother, listened to the bride and bridesmaids’ adventures in shopping and planning for the big day and kept a keen eye on her husband.

  She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or worried for the storm’s interference with the cell service. It was nice to relax and focus on the life and promise bustling around her, but semi-retirement or not, she was accustomed to staying in contact with the world.

  When the resort opened
up the dining room for dinner, Lucas appeared at her side. As with the rest of the arrangements and activities so far, everyone seemed delighted and happy. Again, the decorations were well-done. The lovely touches of white reflected the winter wonderland outside.

  Victoria was pleased to see Casey and Levi relaxed, but she caught the telltale look in her husband’s eyes. “You’re thinking about Thomas.”

  “Only that it’s a shame he’s stuck in a hotel room missing this.”

  “Well, the food is definitely better than any room service he might order tonight.”

  “So’s the Scotch,” Lucas said with a wave of his glass. “How is the bride?”

  “I’d say she’s managing her nerves. Levi and her friends are keeping her distracted. Her mother is steady as ever.”

  “She’s had a lifetime of practice waiting out unexpected delays first with her own work as well as her husband’s in the CIA, not to mention her brother, Thomas. Raising a daughter determined to follow in their footsteps and now having to handle all this without Casey’s father.”

  It had been a year since Casey’s father died but Victoria felt sure it wasn’t easy to be the mother of the bride without her lifelong partner. She took a sip of her wine. “I’ve always thought weddings are just a shade easier for a groom’s mother. For Casey and her mother’s sake, I hope Thomas gets here first thing in the morning.”

  “I can’t imagine he’ll waste any time,” Lucas said. “Walking her down the aisle might make him nervous, but only in the best possible way.”

  Victoria smiled, anticipating the wedding. “It’s sure to be a memorable moment for all of us.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jason spent another thirty minutes tailing the Jeep, while he waited for word from the office. Naturally, there were plenty of places she might be headed, but he just didn’t believe she was going anywhere other than Glenstone.

  The blizzard was getting worse and he knew better than to miss the next check-in, or worse, have no new intel on DeRossi when he called.

  He had the woman’s photograph and the information on the temporary license plate. It would have to be enough for now. Resigned and frustrated, he took the next exit and headed back to Denver and DeRossi’s hotel.