Over the Line (18 page)

“Really it’s okay. It happened seven years ago, and I have to say, my wedding was nothing like this one is going to be. I don’t think she need worry that something among all this… opulence will be a trigger for memories.”

“I don’t think any wedding will ever be quite like this one,” Beth agreed. “So, not talking about weddings, what do you do?” Multitasking, she held up her fingers to a passing waiter for more drinks.

Harry leaned back in her chair, looking at ease for the first time since Beth had sat down. “I’m a freelance archaeology advocate. I know. You’re going to ask me what that is… that you’ve heard of archaeology and advocacy, but not together, right?” Her eyes lit up and she leaned forward as she talked about her job.

“I advise on the cultural significance of archaeological finds, particularly on private property, or on property that is about to be developed. You know how you sometimes read that a Stone Age village has been found while construction workers are building a road or a supermarket? I’m the expert the courts call in to help them decide whether it’s important to preserve the site or not, and how to preserve it if it’s necessary.”

“That’s really interesting. Do you make a lot of enemies? I wouldn’t imagine arguing with a huge corporation about whether they can build a mall would be very good for your health.”

Harry grinned. “Well, sometimes that’s the fun of it. The only downside is that your whole world starts to revolve around lawyers. And that’s not fun for anyone.”

Beth held up her glass to clink in agreement. As they drank, a shadow loomed over the table and Harry groaned into her glass.

“Ladies,” Jeffrey said as he took his seat next to Beth. “Henrietta.” He nodded to her. Harry responded with a subdued hello.

“And Beth. How nice to see you again. I’m looking forward to chatting with you tonight. I specially asked Sadie to sit us together so we could get to know each other better.”

Gag.
He was either lying, or Harry was. She put her money on Jeffrey being the liar. Either way, thanks to Harry, she was stuck with him. She kicked Harry’s shoe under the table, making her laugh into her drink.

A very handsome, tall man approached the table and introduced himself as Matt, a friend of the groom. Beth could tell he was some kind of military—some unspoken mix of deportment, haircut, and degree of confidence. He sat next to Harry, who gave him an enthusiastic welcome. She wondered if Harry could pick up on his military vibes, too, and whether she steered clear of military men now.

Matt held Harry’s hand as he sat, only releasing it when the waiter arrived to take his drink order. “Bourbon for me, and whatever the ladies are having,” he said, slipping the waiter a hundred-dollar bill. “And keep them coming.”

Harry leaned in and stage-whispered, “I think the drinks are free.”

“But now we have our own drinks waiter,” he whispered back.

Harry threw both arms in the air. “Score!”

Beth smiled at Harry’s new exuberance, which she suspected was driven not a little bit by her three cocktails. “So what do you do, Matt?”

He leaned back, shoved both hands behind his head and smiled at the pair of them. “I can turn my hand to most things.”

Cocky, much? Beth took a sip and shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

He tipped his head to the side. “What? You don’t believe me? I swear I’m pretty handy to have around.”

Harry took Beth’s side. “Oh, honey. I can see you are. You obviously think you’re very capable. But some women don’t need men for anything.”

His eyes lit up under her push-back. He sat forward, arms resting on his legs. “Nothing at all? I find that hard to believe.”

Harry pretended to think, finger on her chin as she appeared to consider the one thing she could possibly need from a man. “Well, maybe I can think of one thing. One… very delicate task that I frequently need help with…”

Beth was certain that Matt was set to explode at Harry’s teasing, which was amusing in itself, but her mind was still on James. She looked for his table again and saw him deep in conversation with one of the elegant blond women seated next to him. His table wasn’t only stacked with people from The Hill. It felt like she was watching a dream slip out of her hands. Her ring sparkled as she moved her hand for her drink, and she couldn’t help but pause to look at it. To touch it quickly with her thumb. The problem was, the ring was the only thing that
was
real.

Her attention was brought back to the table by Harry’s laughter. As Beth turned back to them, Matt pulled his chair much closer to Harry’s, wearing a very confident cat-that-got-the-cream smile. Shit. Good for Harry, but that meant she was left with Jeffrey.

“How are you enjoying the wedding festivities?” Beth asked Jeffrey evenly. All the alcohol in the world might not be enough to endure a whole meal with Jeffrey.

“Oh, they’re okay. Such a shame tomorrow was downsized. I’ll only be around for the evening reception.” His face was flushed and she wondered how much alcohol he’d consumed already. She felt a pang of sadness for him. He was a strange man, no doubt, but Beth wondered how much of that was driven by pain at being rejected by Sadie. She wished she’d asked Harry why she didn’t like him.

“At least all the important people will be there, though,” Beth said. “Plenty of people for you to threaten with background checks.”
Whoops
. She softened her words with a smile.

He took a drink and smiled ruefully. “Sorry about that. It was a stupid move. I just wanted to warn you about the Walkers. They’re a hard family.” In a gulp he’d finished his short drink. “But I think you’ve worked that out already. I see you worry your engagement ring as if it’s bothering you. There are no prizes for going through with a wedding you’re not sure you want. A true friend would provide an escape route.”

She guessed his CIA training was apparent even while slightly drunk. She kicked herself for giving him an in to her situation by playing with the unfamiliar ring, but he didn’t seem to be that concerned with her; she noticed his eyes flicked to Sadie at the head table. “I don’t think she needs a getaway driver. She seems happy, doesn’t she?”

“She seems happy, yes. But I know her better than anyone.” He shifted in his chair and brought his gaze firmly back to her. “Are you absolutely sure that James loves you?”

She was taken aback. With no quick response, she took a drink. As she was about to defend James’s deep and abiding fake love for her, he interrupted.

“I felt the same way with Sadie. The Walkers are strange in that way. They can only ever give sixty percent of themselves. To anything. Anyone. They keep people at arm’s length, ready to push us away if we don’t suit their goals.”

Beth wanted to defend James and his family, but in truth she didn’t know if what he said was false or not. “People are different. Situations are different. Who really knows if anyone loves anyone?” Wow, that had slipped out without her meaning it to. She looked at her empty glass. That was probably why.

“Well, James has left you all alone here with me… so maybe… love the one you’re with?” He stroked a finger down her arm.

Was he kidding? Beth flicked it away this time. “You think that will make her jealous? I doubt it.”

Jeffrey’s face fell and in a second she felt a weird compassion for him. She shook that off pretty quickly. Could he be the phantom e-mailer? Could he have been trying to persuade Sadie not to go through with the wedding? Surely not. Would someone who worked at the CIA be clumsy enough to send e-mails? Also, by the mooning look on his face, she didn’t think he would want to physically hurt Sadie, like the hoodied man at the bar had.

“So what do you do at work?” She changed the subject, hoping he’d be as indiscreet as before and keep talking about how important he was.

“I’m Director Walker’s right-hand man. I do whatever he needs me to. I’m honestly quite surprised he didn’t fix this wedding a long time ago, but apparently, on some things, he lets Sadie have her way. It’s the first time I’ve ever been unimpressed with the way he manages the people around him.” He took another slug from a fresh glass the waiter brought and gritted his teeth as he inhaled after the whisky.

The appetizers arrived at that moment, as did four other guests, who introduced themselves as Sadie’s friends from work. They greeted Jeffrey with slightly overdone gusto, and introduced themselves to Harry, Matt, and Beth with good humor.

Matt jumped up and asked Harry to go to have a smoke with him. Beth recognized a suppressed pain in his eyes. He needed to get away from the crowd. She’d seen it many times before. She kicked Harry under the table, and the tiny blonde leapt up and followed him out onto the restaurant patio.

As they all started to eat, the conversation became restaurant-oriented, with everyone chiming in about their favorite D.C. places to eat.

Beth’s thoughts drifted as the others spoke. Harry and Matt had seemed to be in a world of their own, conversing in low voices and with the occasional touch to an arm. For a second, Beth had been jealous of Harry meeting someone in such a totally benign way. Who doesn’t dream of meeting a man at a wedding?

The newcomers to the table seemed happy to take up Jeffrey’s attention by talking about people at work, being sycophantic in a way only government employees were. She should know. She was one of them.

After a dessert of crepes suzette prepared tableside, James came over to suggest they head out. Beth bid good-bye to everyone at the table, hugged Harry who had made a reappearance, and left with him.

As soon as they cleared the restaurant, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Was it that bad?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“I was sitting next to Jeffrey. How was your table?”

He opened the car door and paused as she got in. As he closed his own door he said, “My table was rigged. It was me, two senators looking for chiefs of staff, and one military contractor looking for operations managers. And then there were two single women. I guess they all owe my father a favor.” He ground his teeth as he slid the car through the gears until they hit the parkway again.

She felt bad for him. For a second. “I guess it must be hard to have parents so concerned about you and your future. I get how you feel, I do. I told you I kept my mother happy for years before I eventually did what I wanted. But I would give up my whole career in the army for another year with her. To give Tammer another year with her. A month even. So don’t take them for granted. Don’t not see them because they annoy you.” Her voice trailed off as she looked out of her side window. “Or fake a relationship just because it makes your life easier.”

There was an extended silence before he spoke. “I’m sorry about all this. You probably think my family and I are a bunch of jerks.” He looked around. “Don’t get me wrong, we are a bunch of jerks. I especially feel like a jerk for dragging you here. When we talked about it in the car, it sounded like fun, but I guess it’s turned out the opposite of that for you. I just liked you and I wanted to spend a little time with you.

“I know our weekend kind of went to shit somewhere along the line, but some parts of it worked out okay, don’t you think?”

She remained silent. They both knew the answer to that. How could the sex be so good and the in-between parts be so sketchy? Urgh.

“What do you want?” he asked. “What’s your ideal outcome here?”

Yesterday her answer would have been to just enjoy the weekend. This afternoon it would have been to just see what happened when they got back home. But with the job she so desperately wanted in the CIA and the craziness with his father’s check, all she really wanted now was to go home. She needed to deploy, he needed to… She had no idea what he needed, except for a quick fling, but there was no way anything could work. “I just want to go home on Sunday and get on with my life.”

There was another long silence in the car before he simply said, “Okay.”

They said very little as they prepared for bed, except for the odd “excuse me” when they bumped into each other going between the bathroom, the closet, and the bedroom. James’s every instinct was to grab her and tell her how much he liked her, to tell her how much he’d wanted her in his life since they’d first met. This whole weekend he’d found it impossible to keep his hands off her, but tonight he was going to.

He kept his mouth shut, offered her a t-shirt to sleep in, and stretched out on his side of the huge bed. In the king-sized bed with so much acreage between them, there was no way he could accidentally brush up against her.

They had lain in the dark for about twenty minutes when he heard her yawn. Sleeping people don’t yawn. He reached out and dragged her toward him, wrapping his arm around her waist and tucking her against him. She protested for a second, wriggling away, but then seemed to sink into it and relaxed against him.

With the scent of her hair in his nose, he fell asleep. The last words to run through his mind were
Complete. Clusterfuck.

* * *

The morning brought clouds and shadows to the pool house. Rain threatened as thunder rumbled in the distance. It fit his mood perfectly.

As they dressed for breakfast, the same awkward silence permeated the small pool house, to the extent that he was itching to leave for breakfast even though it meant getting up close and personal with his family. There was no way his family was better company than Beth but he really needed time—to think, to put together some kind of a declaration that wouldn’t scare her off.

Fucking hysterical
. He was a man of action, but now that he was concerned about losing Beth, he was reduced to planning conversations. What was wrong with this picture? Problem was, he’d already done the action thing, and this was where they’d ended up. At least after the wedding, he’d have a good five hours in the car to talk some sense into her.

He wanted her in his life, and he wasn’t going to give up until she agreed to even try to squeeze him into hers.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” he asked her as she emerged fully dressed from the bathroom.

She smiled. “Starving.”

Just her smile and the way she looked slayed him. He was doomed. Fucking doomed. She was wearing a dark pink skirt suit, the same color as the bra and panties he’d found on her in the dressing room. It felt like that had happened weeks ago, but it had only been two days. He wondered if she was wearing the matching underwear as he held out his arm for her to take.

As they entered the main house, his father was disappearing into his study with a few gray-haired, gray-suited work colleagues. His mother and Gracie were in the hallway, going over some written notes.

“Are we late for breakfast?” He looked at his watch.

“No, go on in,” she replied, gesturing toward the breakfast room. But before they could, a door slammed upstairs.

* * *

Sadie came running down the stairs in her underwear as if her hair was on fire. “My dress is too big! It’s sagging around my ass.”

James winced and turned away, as if the sight of his sister in her wedding underwear was a little too much for him. To be fair, it seemed to be a little too much for everyone there. “Can’t you call the dressmaker?” he asked.

She couldn’t stay in the hallway like that with Director Walker’s colleagues only a closed door away. Beth put out her arm to usher her back upstairs. “It’s okay; I’ve got this.” She nodded reassuringly at Sadie and they both headed upstairs, leaving James behind.

“When you come downstairs, please bring Maisie with you.” Mrs. Walker intoned, patting the back of her head. Beth wondered if she ever spoke in public without touching her chignon. Maybe it was a nervous affectation.

“I’ll wait for you in the snooker room,” James said.

Yeah, where the family’s bar was. She guessed breakfast had been abandoned. “I’ll see you there in a bit,” Beth said.

Sadie took her back into her room, where she was immediately enveloped in a cloud of perfume. Harry was sitting on Sadie’s bed. “Sorry. I wish I could help with the dress, but that kind of thing is so very definitely not my area of expertise,” she said.

Beth laughed. “I’m just surprised to see you managed to shake Matt off. When I left you last night, you seemed inseparable.”

Harry fluttered her eyelashes. “It was a one-evening thing. Simple, fun…” She ducked her head and grinned.

“She’s just an old tart. I’m almost jealous,” Sadie said.

Beth turned to Sadie. “Well, let’s get this on and see where the problem is.”

As Sadie and Harry carefully slipped the dress over her head, a flush came from the en suite, and Maisie came out, looking fabulous. Her violet-tipped hair hung down against the violet of the dress. When she saw Beth, she grinned and hitched her long dress up so Beth could see her boots.

“Awesome,” Beth said. Then took in the whole picture of the two bridesmaids and Sadie in her sheath dress. “All of you. You all look beautiful. Wow.” She grinned at them and Harry handed her a full-to-the-brim champagne flute. She took a sip. “And now you all look even more beautiful.”

They all laughed.

“Right. Where do I find a sewing kit?” Beth asked, putting the glass down. It wouldn’t do to be dizzy while stitching a dress that in all likelihood cost more than her yearly salary. It looked as if the waist seam needed to be taken in at least half an inch, but that shouldn’t take her more than fifteen minutes, if that.

Maisie claimed to have her grandma’s sewing box in her room and ran off to get it.

“So, you and James,” Sadie said. “Have you named the day yet? Or has this whole shindig put you off marrying into the family?”

Wow. She was not going to let that question go.

Do not ruin Sadie’s wedding day. Do not ruin Sadie’s wedding day.

“What do you think the odds are that your parents will let us marry somewhere private? On a beach, maybe.” Beth couldn’t help imagining being barefooted with flowers in her hair, wearing a floaty dress, with daisies in her hand. And James. James wearing sunglasses on the beach. She shook herself.
Never going to happen
.

“Oh, slim to zero,” Sadie replied. “You have to understand, my father has every intention of pushing James into politics.”

“But he doesn’t want that.” She paused. “You know your father put him at a table with people who were all looking to recruit him last night? He wasn’t interested in any of them.”

“Of course he isn’t. But I never wanted to be a lawyer, yet here I am, working for the government. It’s hard to say no to Father.” She spun around, absently watching her train float up around her.

A pop came from downstairs. Harry giggled. “I guess we’re not the only ones getting an early start!” She reached for the champagne bottle again and topped off the glasses.

Beth froze. That hadn’t been a champagne cork. She knew that sound very well, and her blood ran cold. That was a gunshot.

Another pop. “Holy shit,” Harry said. “They really are getting the party started. Maybe we should go down.”

Beth held up her hand. “Shhh.”

Everyone went silent. Sadie frowned at her. “What is it?”

Beth’s worried eyes met hers. “I’m not one hundred percent sure that was a champagne cork. But I’m going to check. Stay here, okay?”

“Beth. This place is a secure compound. No one can hurt us. Stop worrying.”

“It’s okay. It’s probably nothing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She inched the door open.

Sadie said, “Seriously. Don’t try to freak me out on my wedding day, okay?”

Beth cast one last look at her as she slipped out into the hallway. Silently she crept along the upper corridor to the stairs. She got down on her hands and knees, cursing her tight skirt. God help her if she was caught like this and the sounds really had been just popping champagne corks. Embarrassment, much?

She stuck her head out from a corner in a super-fast move. She saw nothing downstairs. But as she moved back and stood, she heard a scuffle. She took another fast look—this time she saw a man with a Glock and a balaclava mask going into the reception room.

Shit.

She took a second to consider her options. James was in the snooker room, Director Walker and his guests were probably in his study. Maisie…

She whipped around just as Maisie came out of her room with the sewing box. Beth kicked off her shoes, picked them up, and ran toward her. She placed a finger to her lips when Maisie noticed her.

Beth pressed her mouth to the girl’s ear and whispered, “Something weird is going on downstairs. Don’t say a word, don’t make a sound. Come with me. Understand?”

Maisie’s eyes bugged but she nodded. Beth took her hand and quietly opened Sadie’s door. They both slipped back into the room.

The women were still drinking and giggling. Beth took a deep breath.

“There is at least one masked gunman downstairs,” she said quietly. “Don’t panic, and do not make a sound.”
Whoops. Not so subtle, maybe.

Sadie went white and plonked onto the bed. “Are you sure?” She held her arm out for Maisie, who ran to the bed and threw her arms around her sister.

“Can you lock this door?” Beth asked. “What about the bathroom door?”

“Yes to both,” Sadie said, rocking Maisie.

Beth took a second to think. “Maisie. I need your boots.” Without waiting for an answer, she flipped open the lid of the sewing kit and found a pair of large tailoring shears. She quickly slit her pencil skirt nearly to the waistband. Maisie was trying to undo her boots, but her hands were shaking so much she was having trouble.

“Hey, it’s okay. Let me help,” Beth said quietly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” She hoped she could live up to that. She slipped on the boots and tied them up carefully.

“When I leave, lock the door behind me, and take the key with you. I need you to all get into the bathroom. Lock the door. Sit away from the door, and away from the window. Wait until I come back for you. I will shout at you through the door. Do not open the door for anyone who isn’t me. Do you understand?”

Sadie put her hand out to stop Beth. “I don’t mean to seem rude, but I think you should sit tight with us and not get us into any more trouble. Let the professionals handle this. I mean, what the hell can you do with an armed gunman?”

Beth tied the final double bow on her laces and stood up, sliding the shears into the top of one boot. “I’m an army of one.” Then she smiled genuinely for the first time since she’d arrived. She was in her element. This was her comfort zone.

* * *

James had been racking balls for a quick game while he waited for Beth when the first shot sounded. He knew immediately what it was, but wondered if maybe an eager security person had had an accidental discharge. Then he heard the second shot. His adrenaline spiked in a way he had never felt outside of Afghanistan, or out of uniform. He moved silently to the door that led to the dining room and quietly locked it.

He looked around the room for a weapon. Nothing but pool cues and bottles of booze. He tried not to think about his whole family in the house, about who had been shot.

He wondered for a moment if his father had organized any additional security, but he wasn’t going to wait for the cavalry. Some of the guests might have been CIA, but neither his father nor any of his cronies ever had this kind of combat training. The best he could hope for was that they’d sit tight in the study. His father’s usual security detail would likely still be at the gate. They weren’t scheduled to make rounds until the guests arrived. James
was
the cavalry.

He unscrewed the two heaviest cues and discarded the smaller ends so he was left with two easily maneuvered bats.

Where was Beth? He did a mental accounting of the people he thought must be in the house. His parents, about three of his father’s colleagues, Sadie, Maisie, Beth, and Gracie and Harry. Everyone else was outside, making finishing touches to the marquee decorations, all beyond the bulletproof and soundproof windows. FUBAR.

He eased the door open and slid into the hallway. Almost immediately he heard someone else open a door. He pressed his back to the door, but kept it open. He held perfectly still, knowing that people always noticed something moving before they noticed something stationery.

A masked man was creeping slowly toward the bathroom, apparently not familiar with the layout of the house. He didn’t look like a professional. He wasn’t clearing the area properly—ignoring what was over his shoulder and in his blind spot. James was fine with that.

As the intruder passed the shadow of the doorway where James stood, James grabbed his gun and took it right out of his grasp. In the next second, he had the man in a headlock and dragged him into the snooker room.

James held his forearm across the intruder’s neck until he passed out and fell to the floor. He ripped off the man’s mask but didn’t recognize him. What? This takedown had been too easy. James realized his target had hardly struggled at all and also hadn’t panicked. It was a contradiction. He ripped a piece of braid from the snooker table and tied the man’s hands and feet.

Checking the gun’s magazine, he found two rounds missing. He chambered one and slipped out of the room again. The hallway was empty, but he heard a scuffle and clanging in the kitchen. He headed in the opposite direction of the main door to see if his father’s security detail was outside, but found the door locked.

Clever. Very clever.
The intruders had gotten in, then triggered a lockdown. It would take the best part of half an hour for the protocol to be reversed. He went to investigate the noises in the kitchen. No one else was going to surprise him. He held the gun at eye level and kicked in the door of the kitchen just in time to see Beth remove a large pair of scissors from a masked man’s thigh as she slammed a cast-iron frying pan into his face.

Relief, admiration, and anxiety competed for space in his head. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back when he saw the man drop. Beth picked up the unconscious man’s gun and grimaced. “I’m hoping he wasn’t an entertainer at the wedding.”