Authors: Diana Duncan
BULLETPROOF BRIDE (26 page)
"I'm not afraid," she lied. She was terrified. But Carla's murder had strengthened her resolve to help catch the criminals responsible.
"I said
almost
zero. There's a small chance something could go wrong." He deftly maneuvered the car through snarled rush hour traffic. "So listen up. You say, hi, collect the package,
then
casually leave. I'll cover you from outside. If it goes to hell, hit the sidewalk. If anything happens to me, get inside, lock the doors and call this number." He recited a phone number and made her repeat it twice. "Say, 'Falcon Three,' tell them your location and that you need an extraction, code red-five. They'll rescue you and retrieve the evidence."
"Translation? I don't happen to speak spy."
"You don't have to understand. Just do it."
Gabe's pep talk eliminated her fear. For herself. Instead, her imagination conjured up gory images of the terrible "something" that could befall him. Her blood chilled. She rubbed her icy hands together. "Nothing—" her teeth chattered and she clamped them together "—will happen." She silently repeated the mantra. By the time they arrived at the bank, she almost had herself convinced.
Gabe stopped the car halfway up the block, but left the engine idling. He studied her, his expression grim. "Ready?"
She managed a jerky nod, and he squeezed her shoulder. "Okay, sweetheart,
it's
gonna be a walk in the park. But stay on your toes."
She steeled her nerves and exited the car. Clutching her briefcase, she willed herself to casually walk to the bank, push open the glass doors and stroll inside.
The office hummed with pre-closing Friday rush. A dozen customers impatiently waited in line, and four account representatives had clients at their desks.
Darcy waved from behind a window. "Are you feeling better?"
She forced a smile and friendly nod. Inside her office, a foot-high stack of papers towered precariously on her desk. The phone rang, and she jumped. She snatched up the receiver, praying that it wouldn't be Peter calling with bad news. "Hello?" she said cautiously.
"It's about time!" Edwin
Trask's
voice bellowed over the line. "Do you know what I've been through the last three days?"
Since she handled the job every day, she was pretty sure she did. "I have a general idea."
He harrumphed. "This doesn't look good on your record. You've been taking entirely too much time off lately. I'm glad you're back. Now I won't have to come down and oversee closing."
She gripped the receiver tighter. "I'm afraid you will. I'm still not feeling a hundred percent. I merely came in to pick up my mail and paperwork and then I'm leaving again."
"It sounds like you don't want that promotion."
"Yes, I do. But my health comes first." She raised her chin. "I've been considering revamping my diet and exercise. I've had time to watch TV while I've been ill and those ads for the
Ab
Annihilator
and the
Bun Buster
look enticing. Whoever developed the concept is a genius. Perhaps we could contact the owner to sponsor an employee fitness program."
Thirty seconds of silence ticked by. She pictured
Trask's
mustache twitching like a centipede in the throes of a convulsion, and smiled.
Finally he spoke very quietly. "Ah, taking care of yourself until you feel completely well is wise. I'll arrive shortly to close out the office."
Her smile broadened into a grin as she hung up. She'd learned a thing or two from Mr. Bond.
She glanced at the clock. Five minutes until closing. Surely Peter should have sent the evidence by now. She piled the backlog of papers inside her briefcase. Her anxious gaze darted around the lobby. Most of the customers had left. Staring at the elevator, she willed the doors to open and discharge a company courier carrying a bright yellow envelope.
The final five minutes dragged by. No courier appeared. Mr.
Trask
arrived. Without looking in her direction, he stalked behind the teller windows to supervise the cash-outs.
Darcy popped into her office. She tilted her head, inspecting Tessa's face. "That must have been one nasty bug. You look as pale as
Casper
."
Tessa forced out the second smile in ten minutes for Darcy's benefit. "I'll be fine."
"That new guy, Bond? He's been absent, too. You know, underneath his nerdy clothes and Jerry Lewis glasses, he's not bad. If someone did a makeover on him, he'd be hot. He's got a really sexy
tush
. Course, he'd need braces."
To Tessa's immense relief, a young man wearing the office mail uniform rushed in. "Priority interoffice delivery."
Thank heavens. And just in time to head off a discussion about Gabe's sexy
tush
.
She sent Darcy on her way and signed for the envelope with trembling hands. After locking the evidence in her briefcase, she crossed the lobby. Pausing at the door, she scrubbed her sweaty palms on her slacks, took a deep breath and stepped warily outside.
Expecting a bullet to slam between her shoulder blades any moment, she scurried up the sidewalk. Her head swiveled as she tried to watch beside, in front, and behind her at the same time. Appearing nonchalant was difficult when she was quivering like a nervous
Gabe's solemn, tense gaze studied her face. "You okay?"
Other than a close encounter with a nervous breakdown, no problem. "Yes. What happens next?"
He eased the car into bumper-to-bumper traffic. "We make sure Peter gets to the safe house,
then
we go back to my house."
A surge of triumph rocketed through her, and she grinned. She'd delivered the evidence Gabe needed to catch the bad guys. This spy stuff wasn't so tough after all. No wonder he got a kick out of it.
He remained quiet for the remainder of the trip, his vigilant gaze constantly checking the mirrors. She didn't interrupt his concentration, but sat silently, savoring her victory.
Once they arrived at the cottage, he performed a thorough search of the premises. "We're secure. I'm going to check the evidence and stash the envelope where no one but me has access. Then 'Val' will message Leo requesting a meeting to exchange evidence for money. I'll be back soon. In the remote chance anything should happen, use the emergency phone procedure."
Her euphoria withered. Gabe was going to blackmail the man who had killed both
Gregson
and Carla. And two other federal officers. She'd forgotten obtaining the evidence wasn't the end. The real action had only begun. With Gabe smack in the middle. Then he'd leave her.
If he survived.
Her chills rushed back with a vengeance.
He tucked the envelope inside his jacket. "You did a great job. Why don't you put your feet up and relax?" Giving her a jaunty wave, he strode out.
Fat chance
. Hoping to warm up, she put on a sweater. She called Mel and satisfied her friend's questions with a wild story about a federal audit shaking up the bank, and Val needing support while he hid from a jealous lover named André. To Tessa's dismay, creating blatant lies off the top of her head was becoming so second-nature that the woman who knew her better than anyone easily bought her crazy tale.
For the first hour, she paced the floor. A headache began to chip away at her temples. The sweater didn't stop her chills, so she drank two cups of instant coffee, barely tasting the vile brew.
The second hour, she peered anxiously out the window every thirty seconds. Her head was ready to explode, her stomach twisted into knots. And she was still freezing.
Approaching hour three, she chewed her manicured nails to the quick, drawing blood. She studied her ravaged hands in disgust. She'd conquered that bad habit in the third grade. How could she help but worry? The man she loved was out throwing himself to the wolves.
"This is ridiculous," she told her pale reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. "He's a grown spy." Shivering, she rubbed her icy hands together. "
Brr
. It's cold in here." She busied herself by building a fire.
Finally, the Corvette rumbled into the driveway.
Gabe strolled in the door, all masculine grace and power, as relaxed as if he'd been on a pleasure cruise.
"How did it go?" she asked evenly, amazed when her voice didn't crack into a shrieking howl.
"Peachy. Any trouble here?"
"No." Unless you counted an even closer encounter with a nervous breakdown. If she was going to keep helping him,
she
better stock up on antacids, ibuprofen and acrylic nails. "What now?"
He grinned. "I ladled out the chum. Now we wait for the shark to bite."
The following morning would have been Tessa's wedding day. Gabe had been watching the news for an hour when she walked into the living room. She was dressed in a softer style than her usual business suit, in a long dark green skirt and creamy blouse with a matching green sweater. Her standard pumps had been replaced by flat-soled black suede boots. He tried to ignore the catch in his chest at the sight of her. "Nice duds."
She looked down at herself. "I like this skirt. The cut disguises my…" She trailed off, color flooding her cheeks.
He let his admiring gaze deliberately stroke her from head to toe, and enjoyed watching her rosy cheeks redden further. "No part of you needs camouflage, honey." He nodded at the TV. "A big storm is barreling in off the Pacific. I guess it's not wise to make Steel Lucille angry." He grinned. "We should have thrown a bucket of water on her at the church and finished her off." He sang a Munchkin chorus of "Ding-dong the witch is dead."
"Not nice," she choked, swiveling toward the television. But he caught a glimpse of the smile that flitted across her face. He loved making her laugh. From what he'd heard about her childhood, she'd had far too little joy in her life. She coughed several times before speaking again. "Do you have provisions in case the electricity goes out?"
"A few. But stocking up isn't a bad idea. Storm's not supposed to hit until afternoon, so we've got time."
To his amazement, the mundane chore turned into fun. He and Tessa bantered through the supermarket's crowded aisles, and teased each other while they waited in a mile-long checkout.
By the time he swung the car into the driveway, heavy black storm clouds blotted out the sun, turning the midday sky as dark as twilight. Droplets of rain spattered the windshield.
They struggled up the sidewalk with the first batch of groceries. He had to shout over the rising wind and pelting rain. "You start a fire and I'll bring in the rest."
She staggered inside and dropped her bags on the dining-room table. "No, I'll help."
"I'll get it. You put the milk and cold stuff away."
She frowned. "I'm not some delicate pansy that can't handle a little wind and rain."
Maybe so, but he didn't want her out in the storm. "Did I say that?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I'm starving. The sooner the food gets put away, the quicker we can chow down."
"You've got a hollow leg, Mr. Bond. As much as you eat, you should weigh three hundred pounds. What sounds good?"
"High metabolism." Laughing, he dumped his load and strode toward the door. "Three or four sandwiches would be great."
He brought in the remaining bags. After checking the flashlights, he positioned candles on the fireplace mantel. Then he kicked off his wet shoes and stripped off his socks, stretching his bare feet toward the warm, crackling flames.
Tessa had just set steaming bowls of tomato soup and a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches on the table when his cell phone chirped. She jerked upright, color leaching from her face. "Leo?" she whispered.
He pressed the phone to his ear, and his boss's gravelly voice rumbled over the line. Shaking his head no at Tessa, Gabe hurried to his bedroom to take the call. Her part was finished. He didn't want her sucked any farther into this mess.
When he returned, she stood frozen in the same spot.
"My boss with last-minute details." Her tense posture eased, but she was trembling. "C'mon, Houdini, let's eat. That grub looks great."
She relaxed somewhat over lunch, but her face remained ashen. The anticipated call from Leo really had her on edge. He stacked his dishes in the dishwasher, and she remained silent while doing the same.
He hated to see her all uptight and worried. Maybe he could distract her, cheer her up. "Want to play a game?"
A wary expression creased her brows. "What kind of game?"
"Oh, ye of little faith." He smiled with exaggerated innocence. "There's a Monopoly board in the closet. What did you think I was going to suggest?"
A rosy blush
pinkened
her pale cheeks. "After your handcuff stunt, who knows?" She smiled back at him. "Monopoly is fine. Nothing kinky involved."
The next several hours passed in playful conversation and laughter while she ruthlessly drove him to bankruptcy. Finally, he threw down his last piece of property in mock disgust. "I should have known better than to play Monopoly with a banker."