Bridal Armor

by Debra Webb

  “What? That’s impossible.”

  She saw his true nature flare in his eyes, diminishing the effectiveness of the role he was trying to play. “Unless you’ve got a twin, we’ve got you cold leaving the scene of a traffic accident involving gunfire.”

  Slick sighed and kicked at a snowdrift. “You don’t get it. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “We all have choices.” She bet the hangdog look had worked wonders on irritated mothers and girlfriends. It only raised red flags for Jo.

  “He had a gun.”

  His words didn’t fit the body language or his story. It was cold out here, but a panicked man would be sweating or fidgeting. This guy wasn’t showing her any sign of nerves, only what he thought a cop would want to see.

  Think! “Forget it. You’re useless to me, but stick around. The local cops will have more questions.” Calculating the risk and the angles in the alley, she turned her back on him and started walking away.

  She gave him points for stealth as she didn’t hear so much as a footfall before he threw her to the ground. The weapon in her waistband dug into her back but she wasn’t ready to go for it yet. Struggling against his stranglehold, she recognized the moves of a trained killer.

  Twisting, she landed an elbow into his ear and though it was enough to startle him, the padding of her coat softened the blow too much. He recovered before she could scramble away, pinning her with a knee between her shoulder blades.

  Instead of subduing her, the move only antagonized her, fueling her determination. She went limp with a small, defeated cry and when he relaxed, she flipped him, scrambling to her feet. Planting her boot into his rib cage, she pulled out the sedative disk and slapped it onto his neck. As he struggled to fight the heavy medication, she used her new cell phone to take a picture of his face.

  When he passed out, she dragged him behind the Dumpster and searched his pockets. She removed his weapon and tossed it into the container. Whelan may have had a gun on him but he’d had one of his own.

  “Stinking liar.” She took another picture of his driver’s license—Nevada not Colorado, she noticed. Taking his keys, she sent Jason a text about Slick’s status. She shook her head. Men always underestimated her physical strength and ability. She straightened her hair, brushed the snow off her coat and strolled back into the pub.

  Thanking the bartender, she walked out of the front door as if nothing had happened and went in search of Thomas.

  He was striding down the street, the afternoon sun turning his blond hair to gold. She smiled despite the dire circumstances, because there was a picture worth having. It was an image that would stay with her no matter how things unraveled in the next few hours.

  Energized, she picked up her pace, jogging up the street to meet him.

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “He’s not a local,” she answered. Thomas’s perceptive gaze was cataloging the dirt on her coat and lingered too long on her face. Precisely where her cheekbone had hit the pavement. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, catching his arm when he started toward the pub. “He’s incapacitated. I sent a full-face photo up the line. How about you? How much of a head start does Whelan have?”

  “Too much. He already has transportation.” Thomas stared up the mountain. “He could be anywhere by now. I rented a snowmobile but we might be better off with a tracker.”

  “Has Lucas spotted any trouble?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Then we still have time.”

  “It’s a damn big mountain, Jo.”

  She’d never seen him so worried or so close to defeated. She cupped his face in her gloved hands, waited until he made eye contact. “You’re not responsible for Whelan’s actions. We’re not done until he’s in custody. We know his destination.”

  “True, but the wedding party would be safe if—”

  “Stop.” She dropped her hands to his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “You know better than that. You’re the director of the most elite recovery team in existence. The Specialists have a ridiculously high success rate. Think of this from the perspective of the tactical expert you are. And you’ll celebrate with your friends and family when we’re done.”

  His eyes changed, lit with the fierce, cold determination she admired. “I want this bastard, Jo.”

  “Then let’s go get him.”

  He nodded and smoothed his thumb gently over her bruised cheek.

  In a perfect world she’d have time to evaluate what his touch meant on a deeper level. “What’s your plan?”

  “We need a car. Can you call Grant?”

  “No need.” She pulled out Slick’s keys. “We can commandeer this one.” She pressed the key fob and the lights flashed on a compact SUV parked in front of the pub.

  “Do I want to know?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Okay. Stay on the main road. I’ll take the snowmobile. We can flush him out, hopefully before he reaches the lodge.”

  He gave her a hard kiss and once more they split up.

  For all the inspiration of her pep talk, she knew the challenge was as steep as the peak itself. If they weren’t hours away from the ceremony, they might have asked Lucas to send out a patrol to push Whelan back toward Glenstone, but it would have to be enough that Lucas had quietly posted guards around the resort.

  As she jogged to the car, she thought keeping their troubles from the bride seemed like the bigger tactical issue. She was grateful that item wasn’t on her agenda.

  A series of loud pops interrupted her thoughts and had her skidding along with several other people as they looked for the source of the noise. Too loud for a silenced pistol, not enough for a serious detonation. More like the sound effects from a reenactment. She drew her nine-millimeter and started for the car again, wondering if she was just paranoid enough to interrupt a show for the tourists. The next series of pops was followed by an unmistakable hissing and the faint scent of orange oil. On a curse, she hit the ground and watched all four tires on Slick’s car go flat.

  The whine of a snowmobile engine cut into the stunned silence on the street. Whelan. Damn it. No point racing after it. She needed a vehicle, some way to warn Thomas. On his own mad dash up the mountain, he’d never be able to answer the cell phone, even if he heard it.

  Furious, tired of being jerked around, she got up and turned away from the useless vehicle. She’d find something else. No way was she leaving Thomas to deal with this monster alone. If Whelan thought to divide and conquer, to isolate Thomas on his quest for revenge, he was in for a rude awakening.

  Thomas was not in this alone.

  Jo ran back into the pub. “I’ll give you $500 if you let me borrow your car until tomorrow morning.”

  The bartender gave her a withering look and kept drying glassware.

  “Please.” She pulled her wallet out of her purse and slapped several bills on the counter. “Just a few hours. I’m only going to the lodge and back. The government will pay you if anything happens to it.”

  After another few squeaks of towel against glass, he relented.

  * * *

  THOMAS LEFT GLENSTONE behind, keeping the trail map the snowmobile office had shown him in the front of his mind. It was a challenge to move slowly when he wanted to rush, but rushing never solved anything. He couldn’t afford to miss a sign or clue along the way.

  Thinking of how the resort was situated, he put himself in Whelan’s shoes. Was the goal causing the most damage or causing Thomas the most pain? Picking his way through the trees, he crossed back and forth between the road and the ridgeline and didn’t spot any sign of either Whelan or Jo. Or any other vehicles for that matter. Then again, the lodge was rented in its entirety for the wedding. No reason for anyone else to go up there this weekend.

  Doubts crept in and worry like he’d never experienced threatened his self-control. No room for error on this one, personal reputation didn’t matter. National security took a backseat to family security just now.
His niece was counting on him to make sure this was the first day of a long and happy future.

  Thomas shifted gears and resumed his hunt, the wind bringing tears to his eyes as he raced forward with renewed determination. Suddenly a tree in front of him burst into a flurry of bark as bullets bit into the trunk.

  How the hell had he passed Whelan? He turned back, spotting his target on another snowmobile emblazoned with the rental company colors. Cutting the angle, he drove full throttle down the slope, cornering him as he and Jo had discussed.

  But the road was empty. Where was she?

  More bullets zinged by and he yanked the snowmobile behind a tree and drew his weapon to make a stand. He would not let this pyromaniac anywhere near the resort, if it was his last act of this life.

  “You are out of options, Thomas, my old friend,” Whelan shouted over the idling engines. “Come with me now and I will spare your family.”

  Thomas knew better. He risked a quick peek around the thick trunk of the tree and darted away from the machine that gave away his position. Leaving his best hope of escape was a necessary gamble. Stuck on foot now, his only option was to separate Whelan from his snowmobile. Thomas squeezed off two rounds and waited for the return fire.

  “That’s hardly the right answer, Director Casey.”

  “Who hired you?”

  “Hired?” Whelan laughed, the sound full of evil intent. “I volunteered!”

  Thomas ducked down as another spray of bullets rained through the trees.

  “You destroyed my reputation, stole money and my family. I could not wait to return the favor.”

  “You forget I know your signature better than most,” he called back. “You’ve had plenty of work since we met in Germany.”

  “Ah, yes, the notorious Casey network.” More laughter, edging toward maniacal. “Give up! There is nothing left, Casey. The woman is dead and your family and special agency will follow.”

  Thomas’s stomach dropped at the bleak image Whelan painted where everything that mattered most was gone. That was his intent...no matter what Thomas did right now Whelan would not stop until he was fully incapacitated or dead.

  Thomas stifled the urge to leap out, gun blazing until Whelan was no more than a bad memory. If Jo was gone, and he had to believe she wasn’t, the emotion had to wait. Lucas was the last line of defense for Casey and Cecelia, but Thomas wouldn’t let it come to that. He had to stop this madman here and now.

  On his belly, he crawled to a better position. The cold snow got up under his jacket and gloves, soaked his jeans and chilled his legs. None of it mattered.

  Whelan was a genius with explosives, but if memory served, he relied on quantity over quality when it came to small arms fire. All bad guys had their weak spots.

  Hearing the sound of a car engine at last and praying it was Jo, he moved to take his shot. Music blared out across the brittle air. He recognized it as an oldies station and a smile split his face. Jo loved the oldies. She wasn’t dead and she’d just turned the tables once more in their favor.

  Whelan opened fire on the car.

  Thomas fired at Whelan but couldn’t get a clear shot through the trees. True to her training, Jo reacted instinctively and Thomas wanted to cheer as she gunned the engine, forcing the car off the road, driving straight toward Whelan’s position.

  Countless bullets chewed up the grill, peppered the hood and punched holes in the windshield.

  He said a prayer she survived the onslaught even as he took aim. Whelan reeled back as Thomas put a round through the man’s shoulder.

  “Damn it!”

  Before he could get off another good shot, Whelan leaped onto his snowmobile and drove off toward the lodge.

  Thomas leaped onto his own rental and drove to the car, immensely relieved to see Jo in one piece. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. But I owe a man a car.”

  “Tell me later.” He handed her his gun. “Let’s go. When you get a shot, take it.”

  * * *

  SHE WRAPPED HER arms around Thomas’s waist and ducked her head behind his back as they raced after Whelan, staying right behind him. Leaning around Thomas, she fired at the bomber, but between the bumpy terrain and the distance, the handgun proved useless.

  Thomas cut back between stands of aspen, heading for the main road, leaving the ridgeline to Whelan. If they could get ahead of him, she’d have a clear shot, but as they drove closer and closer to the lodge, she couldn’t help wondering what traps Whelan, with a day’s lead, had in store for them.

  He throttled down and they listened to the other engine rev and struggle as Whelan urged the snowmobile up the mountain. Just before he would have shot by their hiding place, Thomas raced out of the cover of the trees, and Jo braced for the impact as Thomas bore down on him.

  Startled, Whelan lost control and skidded toward the ridge, unable to leap clear as the snowmobile careened over the edge. There was a terrible explosion as the machine hit the bottom of the ravine.

  Thomas pulled their snowmobile to a stop and cut the engine, but she couldn’t seem to relax her grip.

  “It’s over.” He gently pulled her hands away from his midsection. “It’s done.” He helped her stand and together they looked down at the wreckage. “No way he survived that,” he said.

  Jo thought she might be sick. A dead bomber was better than a live bomber determined to kill Thomas, but now they might never know who had assisted him in his blind rush for revenge.

  Still, they had the virus and thanks to the evidence Lucas had found and submitted to her boss, the investigation was all but over. It would have to be satisfaction enough.

  “You should go on to the wedding. Specialist Grant and I will clear this with the local authorities.”

  “No. Let Grant and Holt deal with it,” he said, looking over his shoulder as a bulky, dark SUV pulled to a stop on the road. “I want you with me.”

  Her heart fluttered against her rib cage. The reaction was impossible to ignore even though she knew better than to read too much into the comment. It was hardly a declaration of either a personal or professional partnership. Thomas might not want her out of his sight simply because of his longstanding trust issues. The Initiative had taken a significant stance against him and she was still the face of the oversight committee.

  “There will be questions and reports,” she reminded him.

  “Which can all wait a few hours.” Keeping her hand in his, he walked down the slope toward Specialist Grant.

  “You both all right?”

  Jo nodded, letting Thomas explain the chase and end result. She felt Jason’s gaze on their joined hands and wondered what opinion lurked behind the absolutely neutral expression on his face.

  “The Mike Smith guy is already en route to our D.C. offices. The police are on the way up here,” Grant said. “I’ll give the statement. You two should go on up to the wedding. I’m told the roads are mostly clear, but be careful. Plows don’t make regular runs up here.”

  “Thanks,” Thomas said, opening the passenger door for her.

  The heavy snowfall had turned the two-lane road into a one-lane path, complete with patches of ice where the thick stands of pine trees blocked the sunshine.

  She tried to enjoy the view, reminding herself the worst was behind them. Her. The worst was behind her until she got back to the office. She wasn’t looking forward to the fallout her full report would bring. “You know I have to mention Holt as a potential problem.”

  Thomas sighed, over the road or the case, she wasn’t sure. “I know. He won’t get any warning from me.”

  “Do you really suspect him?”

  He didn’t reply immediately and she couldn’t blame him. In these past forty-eight hours, Thomas had been the victim of vicious innuendo and treacherous rumors. What he believed and what he could confirm about Holt were two different things right now.

  “He’s my deputy director. Your committee might have confirmed the appointment, but I’m the one who n
ominated him.”

  “Right.” Her heart clutched at the distance in his voice. She noted his tight grip on the steering wheel and wondered if the road was just one challenge too many. “Do you want me to drive?”

  “I’ve got it,” he said as he eased around another shaded—and therefore icy—hairpin curve. “What do you think it would cost to extend the reservation at the resort?”

  “How long?”

  “Maybe forever at this rate. I could use a vacation from this long weekend.”

  She chuckled. “Despite the storm, it’s still off-season. I’m sure they’ll work with you.”

  “Then the front desk is my first stop after the wedding. Provided we get there in time.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Glenstone Lodge

  Rolling to a stop in front of the resort steps, Thomas put the car in Park and thought he might never want to drive again. Not in the mountains. Not in snow. He’d never hired a driver since taking the director’s post. Maybe it was time to reconsider.

  Then Jo laughed and the whole situation fell into perspective. “You made it.” She tapped the clock on the dash. “You even have time to clean up.”

  Casey would be dressing already. Probably. Her mother would be thinking he was the worst sort of brother breaking his promise to walk Casey down the aisle. Lucas was right. He didn’t know the first thing about weddings. Had his best friend been able to keep her from turning into bridezilla?

  “I missed the rehearsal.”

  “You have one job. One short line. You’ll do just fine.”

  His palms were damp with a sudden burst of nerves. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re nervous?” She laughed again. “Oh, this is rich. I always wondered what it would take to shatter your composure. I never would have guessed it would be a wedding.”

  “I’m so late. Whelan blew up her surprise. I’ve missed everything.”

  “Not the most important part.” She reached across the seat, took his hand in both of hers and rubbed gently. “You’re here now.” Raising his hand to her lips, she kissed his knuckles. “Look, there’s Lucas.”