Bridal Armor

by Debra Webb

  But she caught a rather predatory smile in the reflection of the window. “If he is, Lucas will handle it.”

  “Is that where I sent the text message earlier?”

  “No. I had you send that to Jason Grant.”

  She spun around, shocked by his easy answer, but the truth was right there in his eyes. “Why? It’s an incriminating message. One he could use to bury you.”

  “He’s on our side.” He turned her back toward the window. “He’ll understand the ‘wolf’ is another term for Whelan. Knowing how Whelan operates and where I need to be, he’ll take appropriate action. He’s a genius at the tactical stuff. Used to be a sniper.”

  “Does he have contacts who can fly a Russian helicopter?”

  “Not according to his background check.”

  Which she’d seen, too. She had questions, but neither of them had answers and the longer he touched her the less her brain wanted to stay engaged with the puzzle of who was behind this setup.

  “But you meet all kinds of people in this business.”

  “Are you teasing me?” she asked.

  Before he could answer, her new cell phone chimed with an incoming message. She ducked away from him to read it.

  “Oh.” Stunned by the message, she handed him the phone. “New intel from the office.”

  “What?”

  She watched him read through the message detailing the new information that proved he had nothing to do with the sale or theft of the virus. “What do you think?”

  “It’s the same information I would have offered up in a formal defense,” he said.

  “I’m glad it won’t go that far.” They both knew formal charges would ruin his career even if he was acquitted.

  “It has to be Lucas or Casey,” he said, clearly stunned. “Maybe both. I’m not sure I want to know how they dug all that up considering the wedding festivities are keeping them busy.”

  The sadness in his voice reminded Jo how much it had hurt him to miss tonight’s rehearsal dinner.

  “The investigation will be officially dropped in the morning.” She bounced on her toes. That was good enough news to lighten any bad mood.

  His brow furrowed. “We still don’t know how that virus got delivered to the cabin.” He handed her the phone. “No matter what this says, no matter who changed their mind about me, Whelan isn’t done. He won’t back down. Not when he’s this close to finishing me.”

  “I can live with that. For tonight.” She leaped into his arms, eager to celebrate even a partial victory, and gave him a smacking kiss on the lips. “All we have to do now is get the Whelan situation under control and you’ll be escorting your niece down that aisle. How does it feel, Director, to be free of the dark cloud of suspicion?”

  His big hands cupped her backside. “Feels good.”

  “You are teasing me.”

  “I’m getting there.” He rocked his hips and she felt his arousal nudging at her core.

  She kissed him, lightly at first, just a soft brush of lips. But holding back wasn’t an option if this might well be her last chance with him. She let the heat build, did nothing to disguise her hunger, her unquenchable need for him.

  He moved toward the bed and dropped her in the deep softness of the down comforter. Laughing, she drew him down with her, wanting to touch him everywhere.

  She pushed his sweater off over his head, her hands molding to the hard planes of his chest. He parted her blouse, slowly, one button at a time and she thought she’d die before his mouth finally landed hot on her breasts as he kissed and suckled the aching peaks of her nipples.

  Her hands cruised over him, marveling at the strength in his sculpted shoulders, down his back. Her fingers found the old wound and she remembered avoiding this spot five years ago when it was fresh. Now it was scarred over and she wanted to feel the proof of survival.

  She followed his waistband around, wedging her hands between them, eager to relearn every inch of him. He pushed her hands away and she knew a moment’s panic, until she realized he only wanted to strip out of his clothing faster.

  When he was gloriously naked, he tugged off her boots, dragged her jeans from her hips, and simply stared for a long, delicious moment.

  “You’re as gorgeous as I remember.”

  She didn’t have the courage to ask how often he thought of those brief, passionate days. “Hurry,” she said, opening to him.

  His half smile told her he had no intention of following orders. He bent and pressed a kiss to her belly, working his way up to her mouth, then back down again. She was quivering under his touch, elated that her memory had served her so well. The feel of his skin against hers was almost more than she could bear. She wanted all of him...now.

  When he entered her it was slow and tender and she nearly wept from the rightness of it.

  Then he moved, and she shifted, wrapping her legs around him as he drove into her. The rhythm of their bodies felt as right as anything she had ever known, as right as their coming together had felt five years ago. Her climax washed over her hot and fast and she cried out, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts until he came with her and they clung to each other, both breathless and exhilarated as their bodies cooled.

  When his breathing deepened and evened out, she snuggled next to his warm body, but she refused to sleep. It was her turn to keep watch. As he’d said, Whelan wasn’t going to back down and she wondered how they could put an end to the threat and still make the wedding. Not much more than two hours passed before he stirred and she hadn’t come up with a solution.

  “You should rest, too.”

  “I’m fine,” she said softly. Several more minutes passed and she knew he was determined to take over the watch. “What happened with you and Whelan? Why does he hate you? I understand what you cost him and how you put a smudge on his reputation but it feels like there’s more.”

  For a moment she thought he’d shut her out as he rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling. She drew the sheet up to ward off the chill left by the absence of his body nestled against hers.

  “When I spotted him in Oberammergau I had to take action. He started with the IRA when he wasn’t much more than a kid. It’s a miracle he still has all ten of his fingers. He’s done so many heinous things, all in the name of money and building a reputation for viciousness.”

  She rolled to her side and gently laid a hand on his heart, happy beyond reason when he covered it with his own. If only this could be...forever.

  “The deal he was working in Germany would have cost so many lives. The Iselys were offering him the biggest payday of his career. I made a few calls, lured him away with the temptation of more cash and dumped him in Interpol hands.”

  He sat up suddenly and scrubbed at his face as if he could erase the memories. The scar on his back was pale and puckered against the rest of the smooth skin over solid muscle. She wished she’d done a better job with the stitches.

  “I didn’t know taking him out of play would mean the death of his sisters.”

  “What?”

  He looked back at her, his eyes haunted by what he’d said, what he’d done. “Terrible, isn’t it? It’s the one thing I wish I could change about that mission.”

  “Whelan’s greed got them killed, not you.”

  Thomas shook his head. “He would disagree.”

  “He’s a criminal. We might make tough choices, but at the end of the day, we are all responsible for our own actions.”

  Thomas looked at her, amazed by the faith he saw shining in her eyes. “You’re not appalled?”

  “You did the right thing.” She opened her arms to him. “You always do. It’s one of your most admirable traits.”

  He went into her arms, accepting the full measure of grace she offered, and she gave for as long as he wanted.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Glenstone Village, 10:30 p.m.

  Jason had been discussing the best course of action over lunch with the Drakes when the odd text had come
through to his cell phone. Together, with dribs and drabs of intel from Lucas, the three of them formulated a plan preventing Whelan from setting a trap for the director at either choke point.

  Noah guarded the road out and Jason guarded the road in to Glenstone. Blue had been assigned to watch the hotel where DeRossi had booked a room and otherwise keep an eye out for problems in the town itself.

  Jason had sent Blue and Noah a message when he’d spotted the cab a few hours back, and Blue quickly confirmed DeRossi and the director arrived safely at their destination. As the day had worn on, Blue kept them updated, but by late evening they were all frustrated no one had spotted Whelan.

  Hearing a car on the road, he hunkered back into his hiding place, prepared to take a shot. He was shocked when a familiar battered Jeep pulled off to the side, crunching deeper into the fresh snow.

  The door opened and the dome light of the car revealed the distinctive red hair of the woman he’d spotted at the scene of the explosion. The woman Holt had warned him about. “Your presence is requested, Specialist Grant,” she called out.

  He didn’t move.

  “The wolf is sleeping.”

  He refused to take the bait.

  “It is too cold out here for games, Grant. Mr. Camp sent me, now get in the car.”

  Cautiously, he made his way closer, wary it might be a trap, but only people he trusted knew his exact position. “Who are you?”

  “Get in the car.”

  With his rifle over his shoulder, he went around to the passenger side. When both doors were closed the faint glow of the dash cast her fine features into a stark relief.

  “Director Casey and Agent DeRossi are no longer suspected of any wrongdoing. I wanted to tell you myself.”

  “You were following them?”

  “I was on assignment,” she said. “Like you.”

  It felt like she was leaving something out very important. “That’s it?”

  She nodded. “You received an alert that I might be a problem.”

  That got his full attention. Who had that kind of access to Mission Recovery communications?

  “Knowing I wanted to personally assure you I am not a problem, Mr. Camp told me where to find you.”

  Rather than questioning her claim, he was too busy listening to her voice. Smooth and lush. Despite the flat Midwestern tones she was using, he got the impression she could make it bend to any accent or dialect she chose. “We’ve met before,” Jason said, instead of demanding answers he knew she wouldn’t give.

  “I’m flattered you think so. Now if you don’t mind, I have other business.” She flicked a hand, shooing him out of the car. “Back to your perch.”

  “You said the wolf was sleeping.”

  “And it was nice of you to believe me.” The Jeep groaned as she shoved the gearshift into Reverse. “But the wolf isn’t my assignment. Goodbye.”

  Still confused, he emerged from the car, barely getting the door latched before she rumbled away. Whatever she’d said, he knew he’d seen her before.

  Jason climbed back into his perch as she called it and heedless of the time difference, he sent her picture out to O’Marron for an opinion.

  The lady was neck deep in this...but she was a friend of Lucas’s, which was the only reason he wasn’t freaking out.

  Right now he had a job to do. He would figure that mystery out later.

  Chapter Twenty

  Glenstone Village, Saturday, October 18, 1:05 p.m.

  Thomas and Jo showed the photo of Whelan around town, finally getting another hit at a local pub at the end of High Street.

  “Yeah, he was here late last night,” the bartender said. “Closed the place down. And he showed back up again just a couple of hours ago. Had the French Dip sandwich with homemade chips and a beer. Was asking about renting a snowmobile.” The bartender shook his head. “Claimed he was a photographer but I wasn’t convinced.”

  Jo figured Whelan wanted to scope out the resort. She considered it a miracle he hadn’t made an attempt yet. “Why didn’t you believe him?”

  “We get plenty of tourists and professionals through here. He and his buddy just looked like a couple idiots out to tear up the fresh snow. They’d be more likely to cause an avalanche rather than document the scenery. Besides—” he shrugged “—you ever seen a photographer on location who didn’t have a camera around his neck even when he was eating?”

  “Good point,” Jo allowed. She caught the strain on Thomas’s face. She wanted to touch him, but knew it would be more of a distraction than a comfort in his current mood.

  “Did he use a credit card?”

  The bartender shook his head at Thomas’s question. “Not here. We’re cash only.”

  Thomas went rigid. “We’ll find him,” she promised, but she knew the words were empty until the threat was contained and the wedding party was safe.

  “You can’t possibly rent a snowmobile without a credit card,” Thomas said to Jo. He asked the bartender, “Where would he start?”

  “There are a couple places to rent snowmobiles. Closest one is up one block and turn left.”

  “Thanks,” Thomas grumbled.

  The bartender leaned closer, lowering his voice. “His buddy’s in the back shooting pool if you want to talk to him.”

  Jo grinned. Finally. They were long overdue for a break. “I’ll take the friend, you find Whelan.”

  His dark look told her what he thought of splitting up, but they were running out of time. “Good hunting,” she said.

  With a resigned nod, he headed for the front door and she turned back to the bartender. “Can you point out the friend?”

  “Sure.” The bartender gave her the kind of smile that explained he liked helping out the ladies far more than dealing with arrogant men.

  Following him to the wide archway that marked the division between dining room and pool tables, she waited, sizing up the man he said had shown up with Whelan.

  She watched her target for a few minutes as he worked the table. He might pass for mid-twenties with that dark hair and youthful face, but she’d bet money he was closer to mid-thirties. Confidence shined behind an affable smile. Scanning the others in the room, she’d say his boots and jeans were too new to pass for a local. Slick, she decided, as he dropped two balls with perfect shots and botched the third.

  The other spectators jeered at his miss, but she was relatively confident he’d done it on purpose, leaving his opponent with no clear play.

  He was toying with his opponent, who didn’t recognize the situation. Based on the thick stack of cash held down by an empty beer mug at one end of the pool table, he enjoyed the gamble.

  She tamped down the urgency needling her, sensing an overly direct approach would backfire. Whether the rest of the room knew it or not, he could finish this game and walk away with the money at any point. Instead, she caught his eye and gave him a not-quite-bored smile.

  His gaze slid over her from head to toe and back up again. The slow grin that followed made her want to race for the nearest shower with soap and a scrub brush.

  She modified her assessment to slick with a dark side. However Whelan had connected with this guy, she’d bet he’d been more than happy to be part of the action.

  His opponent at the table misjudged his bank shot and the spectators groaned in sympathy when the ball missed the pocket by the narrowest margin.

  Slick stepped up to the table, his shoulders rolled back as he chalked his cue stick and evaluated the available plays. He leaned forward, prepared his shot, then sent her a wink over his shoulder.

  Jo managed not to gag or roll her eyes.

  He ran the table, sank the eight ball and gathered his winnings. Then he sauntered over and leaned in close. “Impressed?”

  She thought he might be if she acted on the variety of ways she could take him down. “Maybe.” She gave herself bonus points for self-control as she nudged him back with a finger to his chest rather than a fist to his gut. “What can y
ou tell me about your friend Whelan?”

  His grin was sharp now. “You’d like me better.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.” She flashed her identification and his eyes went wide. “Before I arrest you for accessory to murder,” she improvised, “why not tell me your side of the story.”

  “Can we talk outside?” he said, glancing around the pool room.

  “Sure.” They stepped through the back door into the lane behind the pub and she was grateful Thomas and his Specialists were somewhere in the vicinity. As soon as the door closed on the music she asked his name.

  “Mike Smith.”

  She didn’t bother asking for ID. It would be fake. “How’d you and Whelan meet?”

  “Look, I saw an ad online and I answered it, that’s all. I didn’t do anything illegal.”

  “What kind of ad?”

  “The dude was looking for a driver who knew the area.”

  “And you do.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I grew up in Denver.”

  Jo kept her gaze locked on Slick. There was something familiar about his face, but she couldn’t place it. This guy wasn’t going to be much help and he definitely didn’t grow up around here. She prayed Thomas was having better luck picking up Whelan’s trail. The last message from Lucas confirmed he hadn’t made it to the resort yet, but it was too easy to imagine this picturesque town leveled by a crazed attempt to kill Thomas in an explosive blaze. Even worse was the idea of the wedding party going out in the same way.

  “Just tell me where he is and I’ll let you off with a warning.”

  “He paid me to drive him around, that’s all. Told me he was done and I could head back anytime.”

  She didn’t believe him. It wasn’t innocence or fear in his eyes, but calculation. Slick was stalling her and she needed to figure out why. “You stuck it out after a car exploded at the airport and even when he opened fire on another driver in Denver?”

  “What? No way, that wasn’t me.”

  She propped her hands on her hips, ready to go for her secret weapon or the nine-millimeter in the back of her waistband beneath her jacket if necessary. “Nice try but I’m not buying it. Not when we’ve got your handsome mug on a traffic camera leaving the scene.”