Right Bride, Wrong Groom

by Jade Morrison

  "Just do what I say and keep quiet,” he warned, easily pushing her up into the ceiling and replacing the tile.

  Confident that Lynne was out of harm's way, Jeffrey checked out the safest location to wait for the assassins. Over all, to an untrained eye, the room offered little protection. It was typical motel décor. On one side of the room was the obligatory window looking out over the parking lot. On the other side was a single door.

  There was no furniture substantial enough to give Jeffrey cover and no doors in a position to hide behind. He was running out of time to find concealment when he noticed the window was fitted with blinds that would shield him from the parking lot and the curtains would conceal him from the room. He screwed a silencer on the pistol then slipped behind the heavy draperies, flattening himself against the wall, hoping he would have a few seconds before they noticed him.

  Jeffrey could sense, more than hear, the assassins come down the hall. His survival instincts kicked in as he listened to them hesitate outside the door before one of them began stealthily picking the lock. The door opened cautiously and a pair of bolt cutters was inserted into the slit, clipping through the security chain with a barely audible sound. The men were professionals; he'd give them that. He could barely hear them.

  The minute both men stepped into the room, they fired into the pillows on the bed. The guns were muffled by silencers and made only a whisper of sound as they murdered the two mounds of blankets.

  Jeffrey let the men empty their clips before he stepped out from behind the curtain. The shock on their faces was absolute as he shot them point blank without a moment's hesitation. He stood with his gun at ready, waiting to see if either man moved from where they had crumpled on the floor, and when neither did, he walked over and shot them again just to make sure they wouldn't get back up.

  He leaned down to check for identification, but as Jeffrey suspected, there was none on either man. He relieved them of their weapons and lock-picking equipment, then shoved their bodies under the bed, hoping they wouldn't be noticed until morning.

  Satisfied he had covered the evidence as much as possible, he rushed to the bathroom keeping his gun trained on the hallway. “Come on down, Lynne,” he whispered, trying to keep an eye out the partially open door for any more visitors.

  Silence.

  "Lynne?"

  Silence.

  "Fuck!"

  He reached out with his foot to gently nudge the door shut before turning back to the ceiling tile he'd crammed Lynne into. Needing both hands, he stuffed the gun into the front of his jeans, reaching up to yank the tile down with more force than was necessary. White debris crumbled over his head and shoulders. “Shit!” He felt around impatiently until he found Lynne's foot and, grasping her ankle, he pulled her down from the pipes, but not before she had landed a solid kick to the side of his head.

  As she fell in a heap against him, Jeffrey shook her. “What the hell is your problem?” he asked, rubbing the side of his head. “I need you to get with the program!"

  Lynne stared at him speechless for a moment, then she aimed a slap toward his face which he deftly outmaneuvered. “I didn't hear you, Jeffrey,” she said scathingly. “I was trying to keep from falling off those stupid pipes and I was laying in insulation, dust and rat shit, okay? I didn't know who the hell was yanking me out of that ceiling and you said not to make a sound."

  "Oh my Ch...” Jeffrey stopped before he finished the expletive; angry tears were streaming down Lynne's face. “What now?” he demanded.

  Lynne scrubbed the tears impatiently, looking at Jeffrey with defiance. “Hell of a wedding night, isn't it?” she asked, her eyes still welling with tears.

  He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Well, I'm not the one who agreed to marry Al Capone, sweetcheeks,” he reminded her.

  "Fuck you, Jeffrey!"

  "You couldn't handle it again, sweetheart,” he retorted. “Besides, I think I already fucked your brains out since you're acting like you've got no sense."

  Lynne gave a strangled scream and launched herself at him as if she meant to do serious bodily harm. Jeffrey grabbed both of her wrists, holding them while he dropped his face to hers for a kiss. He was shaking with laughter.

  "You're such a bastard, Jeffrey Shelton."

  Chapter Three

  "Where are we going?” Lynne asked. They were back on the motorcycle, her arms around his waist. The silenced gunshots in their room apparently hadn't been loud enough to attract attention. Jeffrey had pulled the door closed and they walked out of the motel and into the parking lot without seeing another soul.

  Despite being snuggled against his warmth, Lynne shivered. It was that pre-dawn time of morning when the whole world seems cold and gray. She wrapped her arms around him a little tighter drawing comfort from his body.

  "It's gonna be all right,” Jeffrey assured her. “I won't let you get hurt, Lynne."

  "But..."

  "Shhhh,” Jeffrey soothed her. “Just put your helmet on and hang on for the ride, babe."

  They rode in silence through the last hours of darkness. The Harley purred like a jungle cat, low and throaty, as they slipped through the countryside further and further from New York City. Every mile away from Angel took a weight off Lynne's shoulders.

  The urban sprawl eventually turned into quiet countryside stretching out peacefully for miles. With the coming of dawn, the landscape turned dusky rose and soft tendrils of fog lay in feathery wisps in the low valleys.

  "I should call Mom and let her know I'm alright,” Lynne said into the microphone in her helmet.

  "We'll stop for breakfast soon. You can touch base with her then. I need to call in for requisitions,” Jeffrey answered her.

  Lynne stiffened. “What sort of requisitions?"

  "Relax babe, just some heavier firepower and we need a car. This motorcycle is too vulnerable."

  Lynne wished she could take the helmet off and rest her face against Jeffrey's back, but he had insisted they wear their helmets so that they could communicate easier. He didn't have to add they provided extra protection in case some of Angel's men caught up with them again.

  "How did you know I was getting married?” Lynne asked. She slipped her hands under Jeffrey's leather coat and began to caress the soft material of his t-shirt as it clung tightly to his chest. He was so lean she could feel every bulge of muscle in his body.

  "I kept an eye on you, when I could, sweetcheeks,” he explained. “Mostly I was working deep cover on the streets and it would be weeks before I got any news. By the time I found out you were getting married it was nearly too late. I caught the next plane out."

  "What about your assignment?"

  She heard him sigh through the sensitive microphone.

  "I did what I was sent to do,” he said tiredly. “It's not my problem now."

  * * * *

  Jeffrey drew solace from the feel of Lynne's arms hugging him tightly. The gentle press of her body against his back was distracting him from the hunger and exhaustion that were bearing down on him. It had been days, weeks really, since he had eaten or rested properly. The last few months he'd spent in Hong Kong had been a marathon of underhanded business deals and brittle nightlife that was thinly disguised as entertainment. In reality it was a test. Weapons were used, drugs were taken and tattoos were branded upon bodies to show gang allegiance. Finally, after countless grueling tests, Jeffrey had been established as a gweilo associate of the Jade Dragon Triad.

  His mission in Hong Kong was to get close to Jade Dragon boss, Phillip Kwan. The Triad was much like the Japanese yakuza. It was a lethally dangerous international business ran by lawless men who loved the game of high stakes crime and finance. After two years, Kwan tolerated Jeffrey only because of his ability to set the Triad leader up with influential American connections.

  And that was the beauty, and simplicity, of the plan.

  Jeffrey's entire assignment was for nothing more than to introduce undercover agent, Caton Lee, to the boss,
making it look like Lee, a wealthy Chinese American businessman, was a reluctant participant, but someone Jade Dragon needed to cultivate in order to do business in the United States. Lee was considered a black operative, one so undercover that no one in the CIA knew he even existed except for the director, Jeffrey, and Lee's handler.

  It was Lee who told Jeffrey about Lynne getting married. He passed the information to him at a so-called business meeting they were holding at the Peninsula Hotel with Phillip Kwan.

  Assignment finished, Jeffrey explained to Kwan that he had a business emergency in the United States. He hopped a diplomatic flight out of Hong Kong and headed straight for the church, knowing he'd left it too long. Knowing that he might be too late. Knowing he might not get her back. What could he possibly offer her that a successful Manhattan businessman couldn't?

  One tiny little word exploded in his brain. Love.

  Lynne was the only woman who had ever accepted him as he was and asked for nothing more. He knew he was attractive, knew women thought they could change him, but they always left after a short while. They were unable to handle his moods, his dangerous impulses, or his blatant indifference to them.

  Lynne had so much spirit. She gave back as good as she got in every situation. She would stand toe to toe with him during an argument. She overcame his indifference by seducing him with the best sex he'd ever thought about, and he knew, secretly, she loved his wild side and had one of her own that she kept subdued. She was intelligent, thoughtful and generous. He didn't know why the hell he hadn't done this sooner.

  He leaned his body back into her, feeling the softness of her curves and the strength of her love surrounding him. Jeffrey Shelton felt something he rarely ever experienced. Contentment.

  * * * *

  It was a joint decision to stop in Maryland for breakfast and coffee. Lynne got off the bike quickly so she could enjoy watching him from behind. He raised his leg over the bike and Lynne licked her lips. The leather looked so damn good on him. He strutted when he walked, the boots making him swagger sexily, putting a lot of motion in his ass. Lynne sighed with pleasure, following him into the restaurant, walking carefully because she was still sore from his enthusiastic lovemaking.

  The diner was a duplicate of a hundred others scattered across America in small towns from coast to coast. A line of booths looked out over the parking lot while the center of the floor space was filled with tables and a buffet bar that was presently filled with breakfast items.

  When they were seated Jeffrey immediately ordered a huge breakfast and a carafe of coffee. He wolfed down the eggs and bacon like he hadn't eaten in a very long while. After he cleaned his plate, he poured another cup of coffee and pulled out his cell phone, punching in a series of numbers.

  "Did you get that information I requested?” he asked as soon as he'd established his contact code.

  While he was listening to the reply, Jeffrey stared at Lynne. His dark eyes softened and he gave her a half-smile, quirking the corners of his mouth. Lynne returned his smile, knowing without a doubt she was the luckiest woman alive.

  "Yeah,” Jeffrey answered to someone on the phone. “I'm going to need weapons and a ride. Something fast.” He reached across the table to touch Lynne's hand, tracing her fingers idly while concentrating on the conversation. He circled the band of silver he had placed on her left hand to serve as a wedding band.

  "So, I'm not going to be agency sanctioned because of his political connections but if I take him out I'm not going to be punished either?” Jeffrey asked, looking at Lynne to see if she understood the ramifications of what he was asking. The voice on the other end of the phone gave a long response and Jeffrey nodded his head in understanding, like whoever was on the other end could see him. He slipped the phone back into his pocket without saying goodbye.

  "He's as good as dead.” Jeffrey said quietly and Lynne recognized that look. There was no softness left in his dark eyes. Not for her or anyone else.

  * * * *

  They left the diner and rode about 15 miles out of town before Jeffrey pulled the bike off the road into a large clearing. It might have once been a public rest stop but the nearby interstate had changed the traffic pattern and the Department of Highways had long ago quit maintaining the facilities. Now, all that was left was a few slabs of wood from the rotted picnic tables and the empty shell of cement bricks that used to be toilet facilities

  Jeffrey leaned against the seat of the bike with his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing dark sunglasses that hid his thoughts and he remained withdrawn and silent as they waited.

  He was glad Lynne didn't try to make conversation. Thankful she understood he was mentally examining their situation. He watched her walk around the clearing, enjoying the small wildflowers that bloomed in the high weeds. Hardy survivors of the once landscaped grounds.

  Both of their heads jerked up in the direction of the road when they heard the low throaty hum of a vehicle. Jeffrey recognized the motor as a Corvette the moment he heard it.

  "Ride's here, sweetcheeks,” he said, gathering their few personal items from the saddlebags of the motorcycle.

  Field agent Sean O'Brien pulled up on the opposite side of the Harley and got out of the car. He was tall and red headed, with a smattering of freckles that gave his face a boyish look despite the fact he was pushing forty. He wasn't overweight, but he was built stocky, like a professional boxer. He gave one look at the cycle he would be riding in exchange for the Vette and gave Jeffrey a thumbs-up.

  "Nice ride, Shelton. Where are you headed from here?"

  Jeffrey looked pained at letting the Harley go but he tossed O'Brien the keys. “South, until I can get a plan together and get Lynne stashed somewhere safe."

  "I heard you got married. Stole your bride out of a church. You are one crazy sonofabitch. The whole agency is buzzing about it."

  Jeffrey's eyes narrowed dangerously issuing a veiled threat. “What else are they saying, O'Brien?"

  O'Brien ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Not much else. You know how gossip runs in that hellhole. They said it's the mob you're up against. Bad choice, Shelton. They're taking bets in the office if you're going to come out of this one alive."

  "Yeah, well, I'll take care of myself. Tell the office to keep me on the payroll."

  O'Brien laughed nervously. “So, where exactly south are you headed?"

  Jeffrey looked long and hard at the agent. Something didn't feel right. O'Brien had been with the CIA for years. His record was clean, but something about him sent warning bells clanging in Jeffrey's mind. Probably nothing more than a bout of paranoia, but then in his profession a certain amount of paranoia was healthy. Jeffrey shrugged, side-stepping the question. “I don't know. I thought we'd just drive till we got tired."

  O'Brien looked irritated by the answer but he plastered on a smile, stepping across the seat of the Harley. “Good luck. Catch you later."

  "Yeah,” Jeffrey answered under his breath watching O'Brien roar off down the winding country road. Catch you later, odd choice of words.

  * * * *

  "How much do you remember about your weapons training?"

  "I haven't target practiced in two years,” Lynne answered while he loaded the pistol and tested its weight, aiming at an imaginary target.

  He glanced at her but remained quiet, looking around him at the open field. There was nothing around for miles. He figured now was as good a time as any to refresh her skills.

  "See that knot on the tree?” he asked handing her the chambered gun. “Let's see how close you can get."

  Lynne took the gun from his hand, holding it by her side as she studied him. “What's bothering you?"

  Jeffrey glanced at the road, his expression thoughtful. “I don't know, something O'Brien said. It's probably nothing."

  "Then why do you want me to shoot the gun? Shouldn't we be on the road putting miles between New York City and us?

  Jeffrey looked askance at her. “Come on,
babe. Do you really need to ask that question? We've got hired killers after us, I need to know you can still hit the target."

  Lynne raised the gun, aiming it at the tree Jeffrey had selected. She had always been a good shot. It was in her genes. Her father had taught her to shoot from the time she was able to hold a gun correctly.

  She sited in the knot and rapidly fired three shots. When she dropped the gun, the target was gone.

  Jeffrey nodded with satisfaction reaching out to click the safety on. “You keep this close. If you need to use it, don't you dare hesitate. Do you understand?"

  Lynne nodded and Jeffrey gathered her into his embrace, holding the back of her head as he snuggled her against his chest. “I can't take the chance of losing you. Not now,” he whispered, dropping a soft kiss on her hair and tightening his arms against the thought of her being in danger.

  His long fingers stroked through her hair, gently combing the silky strands as he held her a moment and wondered if fate would give them a break.

  He knew it wouldn't when he heard the sound of the helicopter approaching rapidly from the north and instinctively knew that trouble had found them.

  "Fuck!"

  He squinted into the sky, trying to spot the direction the chopper was coming from. “I knew it! That fuckwad sold us out!"

  "What?” Lynne looked up at the cloudless blue sky in the direction Jeffrey was searching.

  Jeffrey watched as panic washed over Lynne's face. He grabbed her hand and they started running toward the car.

  "O'Brien! He must have told Angel where to find us,” Jeffrey explained, fishing the keys out of his pocket as he ran. The throb of rotor blades continued to grow louder at an alarming rate.

  "What are we going to do?"

  "Can you drive like there's a sale at the mall?” he asked, pulling her along as he ran for the Corvette.

  "Ha ... ha, very funny Jeffrey!"

  "You drive and I'll shoot,” he said as he leapt into the passenger seat, thankful the Corvette was convertible. He had just got on his knees to reach into the back for a small machine pistol when Lynne pressed the accelerator down. Jeffrey did a head dive into the rear compartment and the sports car fishtailed so hard on the gravel he thought they were going to make a 180-degree turn.