“You can’t do this,” Crista cried, twisting her neck to look back at the church.
“I only want to talk.”
“I’m getting married.”
“After you hear me out if you still want to get married, I’ll take you back to him.”
And, he would. Trent was a criminal. He could easily be lying about the Gerhards for reasons of his own. So, if Crista was okay with infidelity, Jackson would return her to Vern. It would go against every instinct inside him, but he’d do it.
CHAPTER TWO
“Take me back now,” Crista shouted at the stranger who seemed to be abducting her. Her mind raced to make some sense out of the situation.
“As soon as you hear me out.” His jaw was tight, his eyes straight ahead, his hands firm on the wheel as they gathered speed.
“Who are you?” She struggled not to panic.
She’d always considered herself a smart, sensible, capable woman. But in this scenario she had no idea what to do.
“Jackson Rush. I’m an investigator.”
“Investigating what?” She struggled to stay calm. What was he doing? Why had he taken her?
Then she saw a red light coming up. He’d have to stop for it. When he did, she’d jump from the vehicle. She quickly glanced at the passenger door to locate the handle.
She’d open the door, jump out and run to… She scanned the businesses along the section of the street. The Greek restaurant might be closed. The apartment building doors would be locked. But the drug store. That would be open, and it would be crowded. Surely one of the clerks would lend a bride a phone.
She realized she was still holding onto her bouquet, and she let it slip from her hand to the floor. She didn’t need it slowing her down. Vern’s mother would flip. Then again, Vern’s mother, along with everyone else, was probably flipping already. Had anyone seen this man, Jackson, take her?
She surreptitiously slanted a glance his way. He was maybe thirty. He looked tough and determined, maybe a little world-weary. But there was no denying he was attractive. He was obviously fit under the tux, and very well-groomed.
The vehicle was slowing. She lifted her hand, ready to grab the handle.
But suddenly he hit the accelerator, throwing her back in her seat and sideways as he made a hard right. Another car honked as their tires squealed against the pavement.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“How well do you know Vern Gerhard?”
What a ridiculous question. “He’s my fiancé.”
“Would it surprise you to know he was cheating on you?”
Crista’s jaw dropped. “Where did that come from?”
“Would it surprise you?” Jackson repeated.
“Vern’s not cheating on me.” The idea was preposterous.
Vern was sweet and kind and loyal. He made no secret of the fact that he adored Crista. They were about to be married. And his family was extremely old-fashioned. Vern would never risk disappointing his mother by cheating.
No, scratch that. Vern wouldn’t cheat because Vern wouldn’t cheat. It had nothing to do with Delores.
“Okay,” said Jackson, the skepticism clear in his tone.
“Take me back,” she said.
“I can’t do that. Not yet.”
“There are three hundred people in that church. They’re all waiting for me to walk down the aisle.”
She could only imagine the scene as the guests grew more restless and Vern grew more confused. She wasn’t wearing a watch, and she didn’t have her cell phone. But what time was it? Exactly how late was she to her own wedding?
She scanned the dashboard for a clock. Traffic was light, and Jackson seemed able to gauge the stoplights and adjust his speed, making sure he didn’t have to come to a halt.
“Would you care if he was cheating?” asked Jackson, eyeing her quickly. “Would that be a deal breaker for you?”
“He’s not cheating.” It didn’t look like she’d have a chance to bail out anytime soon. “Do you want money? Will you call in a ransom demand? They’ll probably pay. They’ll probably pay more if you take me back there right away.”
“This isn’t about money.”
“Then what’s it about?” She struggled to keep her tone even but panic was creeping in.
He seemed to hesitate over his answer. “You deserve to be sure. About Vern.”
“You don’t even know me.” She stared at him more closely. “Do you? Have we met?”
Could he be some long-lost person from her past?
“We haven’t met,” he said.
She racked her brain for an explanation. “Then do you know Vern? Did he do something bad to you?”
She realized she ought to be frightened. She’d been kidnapped—kidnapped. This stranger was holding her hostage and wouldn’t let her go.
“I’ve never met Vern,” he said.
“Then are you crazy? Though I suppose that’s a stupid question. Crazy people never question their own sanity.” She realized she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“I’m beginning to think I am,” he said.
“A sure sign that you’re not.”
He gave a chopped laugh and seemed to drop his guard.
She tried to take advantage. “Will you let me go? Please, just pull over and drop me off. I’ll find my own way back to the church.”
It had to be at least fifteen minutes now. Vern would be frantic. Delores would be incensed. Unless someone saw Jackson grab her, they probably thought she ran away.
Now she wondered what Hadley was thinking. He might guess she’d taken his advice, changed her mind, that she didn’t want to marry Vern after all. She scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head. How had things gotten so mixed up?
“He’s cheating on you, Crista. Why would you want to marry a man who’s cheating on you?”
“First of all, he’s not. And…” She paused, experienced a moment of clarity. “Wait a minute. If I say I don’t care if he’s cheating, will you let me go?”
“If you honestly don’t care and you want to marry him anyway, yeah, I’ll let you go.”
“Then I don’t care.” Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? “It’s fine. No problem.” She waved a dismissive hand. “He can cheat away. I still want to marry him.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” She was.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’ve never met me. You don’t know a thing about me.”
He shook his head. “I can tell you have pride.”
“I have no pride. Maybe I like to share. Maybe I’m into polygamy. After this wedding, Vern might find another wife. We’ll all live happily ever after.”
“As if.”
“Let me go!”
“I’m here because somebody out there cares about you, Crista.”
“I know somebody cares about me. His name is Vern Gerhard. Do you have any idea how upset he is right now?”
Jackson’s tone went dry. “Maybe Gracie could console him.”
The name set a shiver through Crista’s chest. “What did you say?”
“Gracie,” Jackson repeated, doing a double take at Crista’s face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. No, I’m not. I’ve been kidnapped!”
“Do you know someone named Gracie?”
Crista did know Gracie Stolt. Or at least she knew of a Gracie Stolt. Vern had once used that name during a phone call. He’d said it was business. It had been business, making the name irrelevant to this conversation.
“I don’t know any Gracie,” she said to Jackson, her tone tart.
“He’s sleeping with Gracie.”
“Stop say
ing that.”
The vehicle bounced, and she grabbed the armrest to steady herself. She realized they’d turned off the main roads and onto a tree-lined lane.
A new and horrible thought crossed her mind, and her throat went dry. Was Jackson some sicko with a thing for brides?
“Are you going to hurt me?” she rasped.
“What?” He did another double take. “No. I told you. I’m not going to harm you at all.”
“I bet every psychopathic murderer says that.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up, but then quickly disappeared. “We have a mutual acquaintance. The person who sent me is someone who cares about you.”
“Who?”
“I can’t reveal my client.”
“I bet every psychopathic murderer says that, too.”
She was vacillating between genuine fear and disbelief that any of this could be real.
“I’m sorry you’re frightened right now, but I’m not going to hurt you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, I promise.”
They rounded a corner, and a lake fanned out before them, the gravel beach dotted with weathered docks. He pulled to the side of a small, deserted parking lot.
“Are we there?” she asked.
“Almost.” He nodded toward one of the docks.
A tall white cabin cruiser bobbed against its moor lines.
Crista shrank back against the seat, her voice going up an octave. “You’re going to dump my body in the lake?”
He extracted a cell phone from his inside jacket pocket. “I’m going to call my staff.”
“You have a phone?”
“Of course I have a phone.”
“You should make a ransom call. My fiancé is from a rich family. They’ll pay you.”
At least she hoped the Gerhards would pay to get her back. She was certain Vern would be willing. His father, maybe not so much.
* * *
Jackson hated that he was frightening Crista. But he was operating on the fly here. Taking her a quarter mile offshore on Lake Michigan was the best he could come up with to keep her safe but under wraps. He wasn’t about to tie her up in a basement while Mac and some of his other guys looked into Vern Gerhard’s love life.
“You’re going to jail, you know,” she said for about the twenty-fifth time.
She stood on the deck of the boat, gazing back at the mansions along the coastline, their lights coming up as the sun sank away. Her extravagant white wedding gown rustled in the breeze. The intricate lace-and bead-covered skirt was bell shaped, billowing out from a tight waist, while the strapless top accentuated her gorgeous figure.
She was right. He was taking a very stupid risk. But the alternative had been to let the wedding go ahead. Which he could have done. In fact, he should have done. He owed nothing to her father and nothing to his own father. And Crista was all but a stranger to him. She was an intelligent adult, and she’d made her choice in Vern. He should have walked away.
“I’m hoping you won’t press charges,” he said, moving to stand beside her.
“In what universe would I not press charges?”
Though he knew she was frightened, her expression was defiant. He couldn’t help but be impressed with her spirit.
“In the universe where I did you a favor.”
“You destroyed my wedding. Do you have any idea how important this was to my mother-in-law? How much she planned and spent?”
“To your mother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
“Not to you?”
Her expression faltered. “Well, me, too, of course. It was my wedding.”
“It was an odd way to put it, worrying about your mother-in-law first.”
“What I meant was, from my own perspective, I can get married any old time, in the courthouse, in Vegas, whatever. But she has certain expectations, a certain standing in the community. She wants to impress her friends and the rest of the family.”
“She sounds charming.”
“It comes with the Gerhard territory.” There was a resignation to her tone.
“What about Vern? How did he feel about the opulent wedding?”
“He was all for it. He’s close to his family. He wants them to be happy.”
“Does he want you to be happy?”
Crista glanced sharply up at Jackson. “Yes, he wants me to be happy. But he knows I don’t sweat the small stuff.”
Jackson lifted a brow. “The small stuff being your own wedding?”
She shrugged her bare shoulders, and he was suddenly seized by an urge to run his palms over them, to test the smoothness of her skin. Was she cold out here on the lake?
“It’ll work just as well with three hundred people in the room as it would with two witnesses and a judge.”
Jackson stifled a chuckle. “You sure don’t sound like the average bride.”
Her tone turned dry. “The average bride doesn’t have a five-hundred-dollar wedding bouquet.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think that’s in the ballpark.”
Jackson drew back to take in the length of her. “And the dress?”
She spread her arms. “Custom-made in Paris.”
“You flew to Paris for a wedding dress.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The designer flew to Chicago.”
This time Jackson did laugh. “You have got to be kidding.”
“And that was only the start. I’m wearing antique diamonds.” She tilted her head to show him her ears.
He wanted to kiss her neck. It was ridiculous, given the circumstances, but there was something incredibly sensual about the curve of her neck, the line of her jaw, the lush red of her lips.
“And you should see my underwear,” she said.
Their gazes met. She took in his stare and obviously saw a flare of desire. Those gorgeous green eyes widened in surprise, and she took a step back.
He wanted to tell her he’d give pretty much anything to see her underwear. But he kept his mouth firmly shut.
“You wouldn’t,” she said, worry in her tone.
“I wouldn’t,” he affirmed. “I won’t. I’m not going to try anything out of line.” He turned his attention to the shoreline.
“Will you take me back?” she asked.
“I doubt there’s anybody left at the church.”
“They’ll be crazy with worry,” she said. “They’ll have called the police by now.”
“The police won’t take a missing-person report for twenty-four hours.”
“You don’t know my future in-laws.”
“I know the Chicago Police Department.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I was hired to look into Vern Gerhard’s integrity.”
“By who?”
Jackson shook his head. “I have a strict policy of client confidentiality.”
Given their understandably fractured relationship, bringing Trent’s name into it would be the fastest way to completely lose her trust. Not that he’d blame her. He felt the same about anything his own father touched.
“But you don’t have a strict policy against kidnapping innocent people?” she asked.
“To be honest, this is the first time it’s come up.”
“I am going to press charges.” It was clear she was serious.
There was no denying that the situation had spiraled out of control. But there was also nothing to do but keep moving forward. If he took her back now, the Gerhards would definitely have him arrested. His only hope was to find proof of Vern’s infidelity and turn Crista against her fiancé.
His phone rang. He kept eye contact with her as he reached for it.
It was Mac, his ri
ght-hand man.
“Hey,” Jackson answered.
“Everything okay so far?” asked Mac.
“Yeah.” Jackson turned away from Crista and moved along the deck toward the bridge. “You come up with anything?”
“Rumors, yes. But nothing that gives us proof. Norway’s looking into Gracie.”
“Pictures would be good.”
“Videotape better.”
“I’d take videotape,” said Jackson. “Is somebody on the family?”
“I am.”
“And?”
“They’ve contacted the police, but they’re being waved off until morning. I guess runaway brides aren’t that unusual.”
“If Vern Gerhard is a typical example of our gender, I don’t blame them.”
Mac coughed out a laugh.
“I guess we’ve got till morning,” said Jackson.
It was less time than he would have liked. But that’s what happened when you threw a plan together at the last minute.
“And then?” asked Mac. “Have you thought through what happens in the morning?”
He had, and most of the options were not good. “We better have something concrete by then.”
“Otherwise she’s a liability,” said Mac.
Jackson had to agree. “At that point, she’s going to be a huge liability.”
Crista was predictably angry at having her posh wedding ruined. If they didn’t find something to incriminate Vern, Jackson’s career if not his freedom would be at stake.
He heard a sudden splash behind him.
He spun to find the deck empty, Crista gone. His gaze moved frantically from corner to corner as he rushed to the stern and spotted her in the water. “You gotta be kidding me!”
“What?” asked Mac.
“Call you back.” Jackson dropped his phone.
She was flailing in the choppy waves, obviously hampered by the voluminous white dress. She gasped and went under.
He immediately tossed two life jackets overboard, as close to her as he could.
“Grab one!” he shouted. Then he stripped off his jacket, kicked off his shoes and dived in.
The water closed icy cold around him. He surfaced and gasped in a big breath. She was twenty feet away, and he kicked hard. He dug in with his arms, propelling himself toward her.
His Stolen Bride (Chicago Sons) Page 3