“Thank God,” said the other woman. “Let’s go.”
Felicity turned and started walking again, but Celia called after her. “Wait.”
She paused. “What?”
“Come with us.”
“Come with you?”
“You’re looking for a way out. I’m it. You’re hanging on because you’re scared of what Neil might do to you and the baby. No one understands that more than I do. But he can’t take down both of us. Your word and my word together will put him away for a long time, Felicity.”
Tentative hope bloomed on the other woman’s face. “You really believe that.”
“I’ve had almost six years to think about it. Trust me when I say that you don’t want to wait that long.”
Felicity’s dark brown eyes hung on Celia for a few moments before she exhaled and rubbed her stomach one more time. “Okay. Let’s take the son-of-a-you-know-what down.”
She spun again, and this time Celia followed. They made their way across the rest of the grass and out to the back of the main house, then over the short patio that led to the small guest home. She couldn’t help but shoot a nervous look at the camera mounted on the eaves, but she had to trust that the other woman had turned it off as she’d said. And a moment later, the trust panned out. Felicity punched in a sequence of numbers on the keypad at the little house, the door sprung free, and Celia was face-to-face with Remo’s bound and gagged mother.
* * *
Even though Remo was in the front seat of the car, he had no delusions about the fact that he was a prisoner rather than a guest. They’d taken a winding path out of the city, presumably to avoid detection. Now they were on the freeway, and if Neil was to be believed, they were headed toward his own home. Through the whole ride so far, Teller—who sat in the rear middle seat of the sedan—had barely moved. He was silent, but he held his weapon casually on his knee, the business end angled toward Remo’s left kidney, and that said more than enough. Neil, on the other hand, had been offering his best effort at being Mr. Congenial—the perfect mayoral candidate, just chatting away with a constituent. Remo shut him down at each turn. That didn’t mean the corrupt man didn’t keep trying.
“Who does my boy look like?” he asked right then with a smile. “I’ve been wondering that for the last five years.”
Remo smiled back. “Exactly like his mother.”
The twitch of a finger was the only indication that Neil was bothered by the response at all. “So he has her eyes, then. Always one of my favorite features. I’m actually looking forward to seeing them again.”
It was Remo’s turn to twitch. He covered it with a grunt, then turned his gaze out the side window.
So far, all he’d told the older man and his detective buddy was that he was willing to negotiate information about Celia and Xavier’s location. He supposed that neither of them believed he’d really do it, and he didn’t blame them. He had no intention of ever letting either man get close enough to Celia that they’d be able to see her shadow, let alone the color of her eyes. But he’d face that hurdle when he got there. For the moment, what really mattered was seeing that his mother was as alive and well as they claimed she was.
God help them if she’s not, he thought, just barely keeping his hand from curling into a fist.
The scenery flicked by, and he tried to use that to distract him. The sides of the road were marked with more and more evergreens, and the rain-drenched foliage was dark and soothing. It lasted only a moment, though, because Neil wasn’t done talking yet.
“Is she still as pretty as I remember?” the other man asked.
“Thought you were happily married,” Remo replied evenly.
“Oh, I am. Doesn’t mean I can’t dream.” Neil’s tone was just shy of lascivious. “And I’ve done that plenty over the last half decade. Trust me. Celia was always so—”
A sudden jerk of the car saved Remo from hearing whatever other vulgar thing the other man was about to say, but it also earned him a solid bump of his forehead on the dashboard. There was a clatter from the back seat, too, followed by a curse from Teller, then the click of a seat belt right after that. Vaguely—through sharp pain and watering eyes—Remo realized the detective must’ve dropped his gun and was trying to recover it. But the mental notation was no sooner made than it slipped to the back of his consciousness. Because as he righted himself, his gaze slid to the windshield, which offered him an unexpected view. Three women were making their way up the road in the pouring rain, and he knew each one. His mother. Celia. And Neil Price’s very pregnant wife.
Remo blinked, half expecting them to disappear like the mirage they had to be. They stayed exactly where they were. As he accepted that they weren’t a manifestation brought on by the bump to his head, the car jerked again. Only this time, it was with forward momentum. Not only that, but the three women suddenly seemed to be getting closer.
It’s not them getting closer! growled an urgent voice in his head. It’s you!
Belatedly, he figured out what was happening. Neil was accelerating. But not just accelerating. Pressing the gas down harder and harder with the vehicle trained right at the three women.
Remo could see that no matter how quickly they moved, they wouldn’t stand a chance of getting out of the way. Not all of them, anyway.
Acting on desperate instinct, he shot out his hand and grabbed the wheel, then yanked as hard as he could. The car careened wildly to the side, and Neil yanked back. For a second, the other man regained control, but Remo didn’t relent. He tugged harder. The vehicle jerked and swayed, then bounced over the gravel shoulder, not slowing in the slightest. It sailed past Remo’s mother, Mrs. Price, and Celia. Remo was thankful, but only for a heartbeat. The relief no sooner hit than he saw that their new path had them headed for a disaster. A towering cedar loomed ahead. He started to raise his arms in defense just as the front end of the car slammed hard into the tree.
For an indecipherable amount of seconds after the air bag deployed in what sounded like an explosion, the world around Remo echoed unnaturally. Every noise and every feeling were amplified. His forearms burned. His mouth stung. Metal creaked, and glass cracked. Something, somewhere hissed like an angry snake. As he dragged his eyes open, he swore he even heard the flutter of his lashes. But his first glimpse of the interior of the car sent all other concerns away.
The impact had thrown Detective Teller from his recently unbuckled position in the back seat to the front, and things had taken the worst turn possible for him. His legs hung on the console, his torso was slumped over the dash, and his eyes were wide, splotched with burst blood vessels, and completely sightless. Remo didn’t have to check for a pulse. His professional experience told him the other man had died instantly. It wasn’t that, though, that was drawing his concern. It was the fact that on the other side of Teller’s body, the driver’s door hung open, and Neil Price wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
A half a dozen curses popped to mind, but Remo didn’t take the time to say them aloud. He had to concentrate on doing something about the missing man. And it did take some concentration, because his ears were ringing like nobody’s business, and lifting his arms and legs was a groan-inducing chore. He made himself do it anyway.
Forcing his hand up, he pressed his fingers to his seat belt and clicked it free. Next, he fumbled for the door handle. Thankfully, he found it with ease. He gave it a quick tug at the same time as he jammed his elbow forward, and a moment later, a rush of acrid air filled the car. Stifling a gag, he flopped his way out of the vehicle, pushed to his feet, then wiped at his eyes and attempted to see through the black smoke and sheets of rain.
What he spied made his heart drop. Neil had already managed to reach the three women, and in spite of the fact that he was outnumbered, there was no denying that he had an advantage. He held a gun in his hand, and he was waving it a little wildly at Celia. The fact that he
hadn’t simply fired was a minor miracle.
Why hasn’t he fired? Remo wondered.
Half-afraid to move forward for fear of triggering a reaction, he squinted through the smoke, and quickly figured out the answer. While Celia and Remo’s mother were both on their feet, Neil’s wife was on the ground, her hands behind her, her head tucked to her chest, and her eyes squeezed shut. She was in labor. Over the course of his career, Remo had seen it enough times to know. In spite of the gun, and in spite of the fact that he’d been ready to mow down the whole group just minutes earlier, the older man looked more than a little lost.
So take advantage of that fact before it’s too late.
Remo started to step toward the small group, then stopped and turned back to the car instead. Doing his best not to attract any attention, he reached into the space he’d just exited and folded the passenger seat forward. Every muscle in his body screeched a protest as he leaned into the back, but he pushed on anyway, feeling around for Teller’s discarded weapon. At last his fingers closed on the cool metal. Flooded with relief, he tightened his grip on the gun and drew back. He was forced to go still, though, when something hard poked between his shoulders, and Neil’s voice cut in over the ringing in his ears.
“Put it down and turn around very, very slowly,” ordered the other man.
Cursing himself for not being thirty seconds faster, Remo did as he was told, spreading his fingers wide so that Neil would know he was unarmed. And when he finished his spin, he was glad he’d listened. The corrupt councilman not only held the gun in one hand, but he held Celia by the hair in the other.
“What do you want?” Remo asked immediately.
“You’re going to deliver my baby. Your lovely mother said something’s wrong with my wife, and that you’d know what to do to make sure the baby was born safely.”
“And why would I agree to that?”
“Because I’ll shoot Celia and your mother if you don’t.”
“You’re going to kill us all anyway,” Remo pointed out.
Neil shrugged. “Maybe true. But I might do it with some mercy if I get what I want.” For emphasis, he gave Celia’s hair a rough yank.
“Now or never, DeLuca,” the other man snapped.
Celia looked like she was trying to shake her head, but the grip on her hair was too tight, and the pain in her eyes was more than Remo could stand.
“Fine,” he snarled. “Just stop hurting her.”
The other man gave Celia another quick tug, then shoved her forward so hard that her face met the muddy ground. Every bit of Remo’s being wanted to reach for her, almost as badly as he wanted to deliver a solid punch to Neil Price’s face. He forcibly restrained himself from doing the latter, but couldn’t quite stop himself from doing the former. He took a step in Celia’s direction, a hand already stretched out. He didn’t make it any farther, though, before a bloodcurdling scream carried through the air.
The noise made Neil jerk his head toward it, and the split-second distraction was all Remo needed to act. He changed direction and made a move to dive at the other man. Neil was a hair quicker. The gun swung forward, its barrel aimed in between Remo’s chest and shoulder. He braced for impact, but it was unnecessary. As the shot fired, Celia came flying at Neil’s knees, knocking him over and sending the bullet up to the trees instead of into Remo’s flesh. But he didn’t waste time on relief. He picked himself up and strode to the man on the ground. Neil’s eyes were closed, his mouth open, and his breathing shallow.
“I think he hit his head,” Celia said, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. “Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Remo echoed incredulously. “I think you mean you’re welcome for saving your life.”
“That, too,” she agreed.
He pulled her in for a mud-flavored kiss. For a moment, the world stopped. It was just him and Celia. Their lips and the rain. Perfection inside their own little bubble.
Then a siren roared to life in the distance, reminding him soundly that there was more work to be done. He needed to secure the other man, then attend to Mrs. Price, and check on his mom, too. When he leaned back, though, he was surprised to see the pregnant woman standing in front of them, her labor magically halted. She eyed her unconscious husband with a mix of wariness and disgust, then bent down and retrieved the gun he’d dropped.
“What can I say?” she asked, as she straightened and caught the look on Remo’s face. “Before I went into architecture, I wanted to be an actress.”
His mom appeared then, too, a set of handcuffs dangling from one finger. “I got this off that evil man in the car. Mind if I do the honors? I’ve always dreamed of putting the cuffs on a bad guy like him.”
Remo didn’t have the energy to laugh at the insanity of it all. He just grabbed hold of Celia again, pulled her in close, and sat back to wait for the police.
Epilogue
One year later
As they pushed through the side doors of the courthouse, deliberately avoiding the sea of reporters who’d dominated the front of the building for the last six weeks, Celia took a deep breath. For the first time in seven years, she truly felt like she could breathe. There’d been some reprieve in knowing for certain that Neil was arrested and charged. There was more than a bit of relief in discovering that his known associates had abandoned him to the wolves, and that the police were sure Celia and Xavier were safe from retaliation. With Teller dead, and only Neil’s own accounts of who existed on the wrong side of the law, there was little chance that anyone would seek revenge. But now—knowing that the man was behind bars for twenty-five years on eight separate charges—Celia really, truly knew she was free.
She cast a glance over at Remo. His handsome profile currently showcased a small smile. It made her smile, too. Not a day had gone by that she didn’t feel thankful that the universe had made him the one to drive by and stop at the scene of her accident. She couldn’t wait to actually have time together without the police.
They took a few more steps, and Remo’s smile became a grin. And when Celia followed his gaze, she knew it was more than just the guilty verdict that brought it on. His mom stood on the corner beside her car, and Xavier clasped her hand.
Celia waved, then frowned as she spotted her son’s formal wear. He was dressed in a miniature tuxedo, complete with blue bow tie. And now that Celia was paying attention to the details, she realized Wendy was also wearing something unusually fancy—a satiny, knee-length dress just the same shade as Xavier’s tie.
She started to turn and ask Remo if he knew what was going on, but before she could speak, she spotted Felicity—who’d changed her name back from Price to Wallace—stepping out of the car, too. The pretty brunette wore a dress that matched Wendy’s, and when she pulled her daughter from the car seat, Celia saw that the baby was clad in a sparkly little dress. Blue, as well.
Celia blinked, and realized that two suit-wearing men also stood beside the car. The first was Riley Hank, the young cop whom Remo had befriended after Neil’s initial arrest. The other was his friend, Freddy Yan.
“Remo, what’s—” Her words cut off in a gasp as she turned to face her favorite, six-foot-something paramedic.
He’d dropped to his knees, and his grin was now so big that it looked like it might hurt. He still wore the suit he’d had on all week, but he’d plucked a small, blue flower from some hidden place, and had it pinned to his breast pocket. In his hand, he held a tiny, unmistakable box.
“Celia Poller,” he said, sliding the box open to reveal a diamond-encrusted sapphire set in white gold. “Since your dad is no longer with us, I asked your son for your hand in marriage. He agreed. With some conditions that involve a new bunk bed. So if you’ll do me the honor... I’d love to make you my wife.”
“Yes!” She exclaimed it so loudly that a blush crept up her cheeks, but she had no intention of dialing it back.
Rem
o chuckled, clearly amused by her enthusiasm, then slipped the ring onto her finger. “Good.”
He held out his hand, and Celia gladly took it. “Remo?”
“Yes?”
“In case I forgot to mention it today... I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he said. “Which is why I brought the groomsmen and bridesmaids and ring bearer and that teeny tiny flower girl. And there’s a different kind of judge waiting in that courthouse to sign some paperwork. Oh. And some people waiting for some dinner and cake at a fancy hall a few blocks away.”
Celia glanced down at her attire, an earlier comment from Xavier coming to mind and making sense.
Put on the blue dress with the flowers, Mom, he’d said.
At the time, she’d just thought it was a quirky suggestion. Now, though, she could see that the request had a purpose. It wasn’t a gown, but the colors exactly matched the rest of the bridal party’s ensembles.
Smiling so much that her cheeks hurt, Celia squeezed Remo’s hands. With fingers clasped, they spun back toward the door they’d just exited. And Celia thought it was quite fitting to start their new chapter at the same place they’d just closed the last.
* * *
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Undercover Protector
Undercover Passion
Undercover Refuge
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