BULLETPROOF BRIDE (8 page)
Authors: Diana Duncan
"No you're not. You're a very sharp lady, and I'm glad you're on my side." He saluted, turned and sauntered out.
Tessa didn't trust the information he'd provided, after all he could have paid someone to lie for him. She called directory assistance in
Washington
,
After a second call to inform Mel that she'd been delayed at the police station, Tessa hung up and set the phone on the counter. Leaning on her elbows, she stared out the window at the forest, blazing with resplendent fall foliage. What was the strange reaction that overpowered her whenever Gabe was near? Her stomach jittered in horror. Maybe her mother's genes would triumph after all. Tessa wanted stability and a family, but perhaps she was fated to follow her hormones through man after man, just like Vivienne.
She slammed her palms on the counter. No way! Her mother's life was a nightmare example of that tortured path. Tessa refused to follow in Vivienne's destructive footsteps. Her shoulders stiff with resolve, she focused on making coffee and sandwiches. When they were ready, she carried a tray to the small table in the living room. Goose bumps prickled up her arms and she rubbed her hands together. The cabin hadn't been in use, and the room was cold. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, she started a fire.
A pair of long, tanned bare feet appeared in her line of vision. "I was gonna do that."
She swallowed hard. Good heavens, even the sight of the man's feet tweaked her libido. She said the first thing that popped into her mind. "You don't have frog's feet."
His husky laugh bubbled through her veins like expensive champagne, filling her with a warm, sparkling glow. "I didn't mean literally."
"Of course not." She leapt up, backing toward the chair. "I made sandwiches and coffee."
Gabe's brows tilted. "Should I have you taste-test them?"
"I
said
I was sorry about that."
"So you did." One corner of his mouth quirked up. "But remember, honey, payback is hell." He grabbed a sandwich and a mug of coffee and collapsed on the plaid sofa.
She dropped into a chair beside the fire. The damp sheen of Gabe's hair reflected the dancing flames. He'd changed into snug, faded jeans and a black cotton sweater. Trying to ignore the disturbing zings ricocheting along her nerve endings, she doggedly chewed her sandwich. It tasted like sawdust.
"So—"
She jerked, nearly spilling her coffee.
He shook his head. "You've gotta get a handle on that hair-trigger reflex. Do I still make you nervous?"
Not in the way he meant. "I was thinking, and you startled me,
that's
all. How long will we be here?"
"I don't know. Did you leave the phone in the kitchen?" She nodded, and he rose. "Be right back."
His low voice murmured from the kitchen. In minutes he returned. For once, his face wore a somber expression, without a hint of levity. Dread hung heavily between them.
Sighing, he jammed his fingers through his hair. "There's no sugar-coated way to say this.
Gregson
may be dead."
Bile swelled in her throat. "Y-you killed him?"
"No." He dropped onto the sofa and stared down at the green braided rug. "Whoever he works for doesn't have a real subtle job performance evaluation. You escaped, and I saw his face, but he didn't see mine because of the helmet and sunglasses. With his cover blown, he was useless. The local cops found a John Doe in the river, a bullet in the back of his skull. My boss is running his prints. We'll know soon if his real name was
Gregson
, and if he was genuine FBI." Gabe's intent gaze fastened on her.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
"You should know what we're dealing with." He left, quickly returned and handed her two checks. "You saw these before. What did you think?"
Puzzled, she turned them over. "
Sav
-Mart payroll checks."
"But one's real and one's counterfeit. Problem is
,
we can't tell them apart because stolen checks were used as templates to make perfect phonies. Counterfeit checks from big companies are showing up all over the Northwest. The Treasury Department has been tracking them for nearly two years, but every time they think they're making progress, they run into a dead end. The bad guys are always somehow one step ahead."
Tessa frowned. "That's why you suspect someone in law enforcement might be involved?"
"Yeah, plus the fact that our previous agents on the inside were murdered. So I came in deep undercover. Only my boss knows I'm working this, and he's top-level security. A few days ago, we arrested a check passer who gave us some information, but wanted immunity before he'd tell all. While we were working out the details, the suspect hung himself in his cell. We knew the checks were in the cash delivery to your branch. The robbery got them into my hands without tipping off the crooks or burning my cover. The checks confirmed the one common thread we've found."
Every trace of the carefree rogue had disappeared. All business, his cool, serious gaze bored into hers. Tessa stared at a very different Gabe—the dangerous man his enemies faced. Icy fingers crawled up her spine.
"The real checks are being stolen from Oregon Pacific Bank. So far, the crooks have cleared over eight million dollars."
"Eight
million?"
"A hell of a motive for murder." He grimaced. "And one of your co-workers is up to their neck in blood."
Chapter 5
"
W
hat?" Tessa gasped.
"The mole has to have high security clearance. The setup is sophisticated, ingenious, and impossible to trace. That is, until you stumbled across the evidence. If you'd called security—" Gabe's dark brows slammed together, and he clenched his jaw. "You'd be bunking beside
Gregson
in the morgue."
Her stomach churned. "That's why you kidnapped me."
"When I realized you'd seen the checks, I couldn't risk leaving you behind. I'd hoped to let you go none the wiser. No chance of that anymore."
"So now what?"
"I have to find out who's running the operation, and protect you." He tapped his pursed lips with a long finger.
Tessa stared at his sculpted mouth, the memory of his recent kiss burning through her brain. She gulped a swig of hot coffee.
"I can't make you disappear without tipping off the bad guys. I can't trust anyone else with your safety. And
your
inside connections at
The room tilted as every molecule in her body hummed in response to his gorgeous smile. She straightened. She would not let out-of-control hormones jeopardize her future. "Absolutely not."
He sobered. "These guys will kill you with less thought than taking out the garbage.
Gregson's
isn't the first suspicious body to be found downriver with a new view out the back of his head. I doubt they'll risk attracting attention with a public hit, but if they catch you alone, all bets are off."
She scowled. "But my wedding arrangements."
"If they succeed, you won't have to worry about that." He scowled. "Or anything else."
"I refuse to let those criminals ruin my wedding." She crossed her arms over her chest. She was so close to achieving her dream. Nothing short of a nuclear war would stop her now. "You'll have to compromise."
"I could tie you up and lock you in a safe house, you know." His sober gaze didn't look like he was joking.
"You wouldn't dare."
Would he?
"Don't kid yourself. If I could guarantee your safety, you'd already be there. Okay, I'll figure out the wedding stuff." He shuddered. "But stick close and do what I say, when I say."
She squared her shoulders. "To a point," she warned darkly. "How am I supposed to explain you to my friends and my fiancé?" How would Dale react to the news that she was living with another man? During their two-year relationship, she'd never seen him ruffled. A purely female part of her hoped he'd respond with at least a small show of jealousy. Men in love were supposed to feel proprietary, weren't they?
"Later." He glanced at the complicated gauges on his watch. "First we take the chopper back to the city."
During the trip, he grilled her about the checks and the incident with
Gregson
. But she thoroughly enjoyed the ride, and his company.
When they landed at the
Riverside
airport, he turned to her with a knowing smile. "Nice, huh? The first time, fear of the unknown takes away from some of the fun. The second ride is usually much better." He arched a dark brow. "It doesn't take long to get addicted to flying."
She willed away the annoyingly delicious shimmer caused by his double entendre. "Are we taking the bike?"
"No. I've got a Viper here at the airport."
"What happened to the Jaguar?"
"Using different vehicles keeps them guessing. I've also changed plates on the '
Vette
, so the car can't be traced to the robbery. Here's the plan. Your place, fifteen minutes to pack,
then
we're bugging out to my house."
"I can't pack in fifteen minutes!" And she needed a lot more time to get used to the idea of living with Gabe.
"You'd better, because ready or not, I'm hauling your cute little six out of there."
"You said that before. What's a six, or do I want to know?"
He chuckled. "Military slang. Tail, rear end—"
She held up a hand. "I get the point."
They climbed into a white Viper with tinted windows and Gabe whisked them to her apartment with his usual Mach speed.
She reached for the handle, but he stopped her. "I check it out first." He thrust out his hand. "Keys?"
She pulled them from her purse and slapped them into his palm. She might owe him her life, but his macho routine set her teeth on edge.
Gabe opened his door. "If anything happens, hit the horn." He sauntered around the front bumper with confident grace. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared into the bushes.
Minutes passed. Tessa fidgeted. Should he be taking so long? Had something happened? Maybe she should go find him. She gripped the door handle.
Before she could open the door, Gabe reappeared and swung it wide. "Are you the only tenant in this building?"
"Yes. There's a small music store on the ground floor but it closes at four. I live in the loft above."
He shifted into "doing business mode." Body taut, his alert gaze scanned the area. With his right hand tucked under his black leather jacket, he escorted her into the elevator. There was no amusement in him now, only deadly purpose. She shivered. Under his carefree exterior lurked a competent, dangerous cop.
The elevator doors slid open. A massive gun appeared in his hand. He preceded her into the one-room loft. "Uh, Tessa? I hate to tell you this, but unless you're a really messy housekeeper, somebody tossed your place."
Her possessions lay strewn about the
apartment,
everything viciously rifled, and then discarded like worthless trash. Tessa's knees wobbled and she clutched the kitchen counter for support.
"Easy, sweetheart." Gabe grasped her arm to steady her, his eyes dark with concern. "It's okay."
"Those criminals were in my home. They pawed through my things—"
"They're long gone." He squeezed her arm reassuringly. "I'll make a call and have this cleaned up in two hours."
"But—"
Something thudded against the window.
Before she could turn, his foot swept Tessa's legs out from under her. His arms wrapped around her waist and took her down. Holding her on top of him, he hit the floor. In a split second, he rolled her beneath him, the back of her head cradled in his palm. "Don't move," he whispered.
Heart hammering, she lay under his taut body. His clean, male scent assailed her senses. She fought to gasp in air, but her breathlessness had nothing to do with his weight on top of her and everything to do with his nearness.
His gun edged past her cheek. He pressed her face into his shoulder. "Shh. Don't move."
A chorus of plaintive meows shattered the tense silence.
Relieved laughter burst out of her. "Andrew, Lloyd and Webber."
He glanced at her, disbelief etched on his features. "Andrew, Lloyd and Webber?"