Gunning for the Groom (14 page)

When she trembled, whispered his name, he kissed her until they were both shaking and breathless.

He shrugged out of his jacket and reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one swift move.

Her skin glowed golden around the simple white fabric of her bra. “Francesca,” he whispered across the sensitive skin of her breasts. She wasn't Frankie the client or pretend fiancée now. The case was irrelevant. The games were over. She was the woman he wanted more than his next breath. The woman he needed to give that breath meaning. His hands on her hips, he drew the stiff peak of her nipple into his mouth, teasing her through the fabric. She held him close, running her fingers through his hair, over his ears.

His hands learned her curves, the dips and hollows, in long, slow strokes from her waist across the flare of her hips.

She shoved at him and he stopped immediately. He had no time to ask what he'd done wrong, as she yanked his shirt from his waistband, gasping, “I need to touch you.”

“I'm all yours.” He'd never spoken words that meant as much.

* * *

F
RANKIE
PRESSED
HER
PALMS
to Aidan's wide, lean chest and backed him toward the bed. She could feel the heat of him through the fabric, but she wanted skin. She pushed his shirt up and away and just stared. He was perfect. Smooth skin, hard muscle and ridges she couldn't wait to trace and taste.

Her heart was racing, and though the warning signs of stress were firing in her back, she was done with foreplay. She wouldn't be denied this moment. The twinges only served as a reminder of how fleeting life was. She'd survived an IED, paralysis, and now a sabotaged elevator. She deserved a little happiness and positive adrenaline. Just to change it up.

She flicked open the button of his jeans, eased the zipper down until she could wrap her hand around his thick erection. Her breath caught in her chest, her pulse throbbing in her ears at the feel of him. So close and yet not nearly close enough.

Moving in a passionate frenzy around and between searing kisses, they shed his interfering clothing until at last he stretched out on the bed, drawing her down beside him. She wanted him fast and hard. The slow and tender could wait. She needed him to hurry and blot out the terror crowding her, to affirm her survival.

She hesitated. In the midst of crawling over his amazing body, she froze.

The sudden bout of nerves surprised her. She hadn't been with anyone since her recovery, and she wasn't sure what might happen. Everything in her back felt normal most of the time and she didn't make a habit of expecting the worst. Sex wasn't any more rigorous than running, from a functional standpoint. She'd regained her mobility and fitness, but there was nothing she could do about the scars Aidan hadn't seen.

“Is there a problem?” He sat up, drawing her between his widespread knees. Spearing a hand into her hair, he pulled her lips to his and leveled her with another devastating kiss. “Second thoughts? Please say no.”

She closed her eyes and blurted out an excuse. “No second thoughts. It's been a while, that's all.”

He slid her bra straps down over her shoulders, his face so close his breath raised goose bumps on her sensitive skin. “I can't decide if that's more or less pressure on me.”

She wanted to laugh, but it sputtered and died on a gasp when he unhooked her bra and took her bared breast into his mouth. “Francesca. You're beautiful.”

Feeling his words more than she heard them, she decided. She'd shatter his illusions of beauty later. She leaned over to turn out the light.

“Don't.” He stilled her hand. “Let me see you tonight. All of you.”

“Aidan.” She turned shy, an unprecedented sensation. “You don't know what you're asking.” She spoke to his perfect, sculpted chest, unable to meet his eyes. “The repairs are...difficult.” It was the least offensive word she could think of.

“You are perfect.” He was soothing her, hypnotizing her with soft strokes over her shoulders, down her arms. “The strongest woman I know.” His mouth followed, covering her, tasting her, chasing away the chill hiding in her bones. “Let me show you what I see.”

She was no match for him when he looked into her eyes as he stripped away the rest of her clothes. He brought her hands to his shoulders, easing back so she practically melted on top of him, giving her the control and the choice.

“Francesca,” he murmured over and over in that mesmerizing voice. His hands flowed and coaxed, erasing her scars, until she felt her body as he did.

It was like floating through a beautiful, dynamic dream as she lowered her body, taking him in carefully when she wanted to rush. He filled her so well she didn't want to move. She wanted to savor. Gently at first, she lifted her hips, testing and teasing the limits of his desire and her patience. His hands gripped her hips and he changed the rhythm to suit him. Them.

The pleasure coursed through her with every stroke, building. The climax crashed over her and she cried out as her body shuddered around him. He flexed his hips, driving deep, deeper until she couldn't discern where he ended and she began. Her body instinctively clung, gripping him tight, reluctant to let go.

When he stretched out beside her with a satisfied sigh, she curled into him, her hand resting over his heart, the light glinting off the diamond on her finger. She stared at the stone and the setting, knowing she'd given him far more than her body.

His hand traced circles over her shoulder and he pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. She'd dropped her heart into his care. Worse, she realized as exhaustion claimed her, she trusted him not to break it.

* * *

F
RANKIE
WOKE
IN
the middle of the night, knowing she wouldn't get any more sleep. There wasn't a better sign of feeling safe than the fact that they'd slept soundly. She slipped out from under Aidan's arm, turned out the light and grabbed a T-shirt and yoga pants from her suitcase on her way to the shower. At some point she was going to have to assess what they'd just done in that bed. She'd have to address how she'd left herself open to him, body and soul. Right now she locked on to the easy fib that the sex had been about reaffirming life. They'd experienced a standard biological reaction to the adrenaline spike of survival. Simple.

Under the hot pulse of the shower spray, it didn't feel simple, but she ignored the new awareness pressing in on her. The priority had to be the work. Her search for answers had gotten her mugged and nearly killed. It was past time to take a stand against her mother's schemes. Frankie toweled off, dressed and twisted her wet hair into a loose braid.

There had to be hard evidence. Without it, Aidan would continue to do his job and offer conflicting theories. She couldn't bear the idea of him siding with Sophia on any topic. Worse, she couldn't bear the small voice in her head that suggested he could be right, that her mother wasn't guilty of awful things. That was the voice of the heartbroken child inside her, not the woman smart enough to know better.

She opened her laptop, turning it away from Aidan so she wouldn't wake him while she tried to put the pieces together. Rubbing her temples, she went back to the beginning, to the treason charge, looking at every piece in light of what she and Aidan had found along the way.

It helped, Aidan's identification of Lennox, and she pushed her research skills to the limit to make the connections between Lennox and her father, her father and the supposed act of treason. He'd been at Bagram, not Kabul. A general didn't travel around unnoticed. How had her mother, an expert analyst, made such a costly mistake?

Too quickly Frankie wanted to cycle back, pointing to the blatant lies in her mother's statement, but she fought to stay objective. For Aidan.

She stood, stretching side to side and forward, loosening tight muscles as she let her mind work. Her team had been attacked. Units under her father's command had been ambushed, the objective compromised presumably because he'd tipped off the other side for money. Her husband found guilty, Sophia had chosen to retire and start her company. Who gained from taking down the Leone family?

“Come back to bed, love.”

Aidan's voice, gravelly from sleep, tempted her. She didn't want to resist. “Can't sleep.” She didn't dare look at him. “I'm almost there.”

Behind her she heard the mattress give as he got up. He turned on the light and denim rustled as he pulled on his jeans.

His chest was warm on her back when he wrapped his arms around her, linking his hands at her waist. “I think you're trying too hard. Let it rest.”

“I'll rest when I have answers. We're running out of time.”

“Your mother may not have the answers, Frankie.”

The nickname rang hollow in her ears, after he'd called her Francesca when his hands and mouth were heating her body. She shivered. If he was right, what would she do? She moved back to the table, easing into the chair.

“Why do you do that?” he asked. “Sit so carefully.”

“Habit. Early in the rehab my hip would catch and lock up. I would jerk or wince and everyone stared or asked about it. I learned to move so my weaknesses didn't show.”

His short laughter startled her and she stared at him as he knelt beside her chair. “What weaknesses?”

She loved him for that. Kissed him for that. She wrapped his bigger hand in both of hers, needing that contact as she asked a question of her own. “Why are you so convinced Sophia is innocent in all this?”

“I've been looking at both of you, past and present, with objective eyes.”

“She's fooled you,” Frankie protested. “That statement—”

“If the statement is real, she gave it in good faith. The intel might've been flawed. If the document you found is fake, who put it there?” His blue eyes were steady on hers. “I'm not fooled. Not by her or you.” Aidan stood and pulled Frankie up with him, his arms banding tight around her. “You're hurting. You've been robbed of everything you valued and you want a hard target to attack.”

She leaned back, just enough to meet his gaze, since she didn't want him to let go. “I was a target just a few hours ago.”

His face blanched. “I'm well aware.” His lips brushed over her forehead, her nose, then claimed her mouth. “Despite any flaws, Sophia is a mother delighted with her daughter. Awed and inspired by you. Whatever happened, she loves you.”

That only made it worse. Frankie flinched. “Take that back.”

“I won't.”

“That was before.” Frankie felt the facts dragging her down into a well of despair. She had to
know
or walk away. Walking away was weakness. “If you're so sure it wasn't Sophia,
show
me why.”

She expected him to sit at the computer, call up something he and Victoria had found. Instead, he stalked over to the duffel bag he'd brought along and unzipped the end pocket. Tossing a folder full of brochures and information onto the table, he glared at her. “Go on. Take a look.”

She poked at the pile, startled by the glossy images of handsome men in tuxedos, couples lounging on a cruise ship, dancing in a classroom. “What is this?”

“Your mother keeps dropping this stuff at my desk. I can pull up the emails, too, if you'd like to read them. Questions about my preferences on tux colors, buffet or plated meals, suggestions for honeymoon destinations. Seems she's traveled extensively.”

“Well, of course. The army toted us all around the world.”

“Uh-huh.” He planted his hands on his hips. “She's been telling me which climates you enjoyed most, which excursions and discoveries made you light up.”

“What?” The behavior he was describing baffled Frankie. Everything she found pointed to a woman all too eager to ditch her past for a better venture.

Aidan pressed his hands to his eyes and she imagined he was counting to ten. Or maybe one hundred.

“Your mother
loves
you. She wouldn't be working this hard on the wedding, wouldn't be sharing the highlights of your childhood with me, if she wanted you dead.”

“She's hiding something,” Frankie insisted, but the argument felt flat. “Playing us.”

“No.” He shook his head. “We're playing her.”

“That was the plan.” She wagged her finger between them. “None of this pretense would be necessary if she'd been honest with me from the start.”

“Think, Frankie! She can't give you answers she doesn't have. Take another perspective and consider the possibility that she's protecting
you
.”

He spoke with such conviction she wanted to believe him. “We were close once. My family was a team. Someone twisted that into lies.”

He gripped her elbows, gave her a gentle shake. “You deserve answers. I know you're hurting. But your mother is too direct, too efficient to waste this much time on wedding stuff if her goal is to kill you.”

Aidan drew in a big breath. “You know her better, I'll grant you that. But your history and grief are clouding your view.”

He had to be wrong. Frankie couldn't see how anyone else gained from this fiasco. Who else would care if she lived or died?

“All right.” Frankie sat down at her computer, ignoring the wedding paraphernalia. She motioned for him to pull up a chair. “Walk me through it. If my mom's just a patsy, let's find the culprit.”

Chapter Eleven

Wednesday, April 13, 7:50 a.m.

Frankie and Aidan arrived at work hand in hand, parting ways with a quick kiss in the lobby. They'd made this their routine from the start, but today it felt different. More real, far more significant.

It didn't take any investigation to know making love with Aidan changed her, she thought, taking the stairs up to her floor. Love? No. Her mind backpedaled in denial. It was excellent sex that left her feeling soft and mushy all over. Something in the way Aidan had touched her reached her heart, yes. The experience had definitely surpassed her expectations. Still, it was too soon to burden either of them with
love
.

She tugged open the stairwell door, refusing to dwell on the conversation she'd overheard, instead greeting the others on her floor as she hurried to her office.

At least she and Aidan had solid indications her mother had been involved, if not willingly, with her dad's downfall. As Aidan had reviewed the facts, Frankie had grudgingly admitted he was right. Everything she pointed to was circumstantial, some of it possibly fabricated. If they could just prove it, they could move on. She wished she knew what that next phase of her life would look like.

Frankie dropped her purse into her desk drawer and locked it. Booting up her computer, she thought about what Aidan had asked her to look for today while she pretended to analyze company data looking for criminal trends, security options and new clients to approach.

It still surprised her how much she enjoyed the work that was supposed to be short-term cover. If they didn't find something by the end of the week, she'd have to resign her post at the police station and stick this out, or else leave her mom in the lurch. Somehow the idea wasn't as appealing as it had been forty-eight hours ago.

Frankie closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She sure as hell never expected to carry away any guilt over what had to be done in her effort to clear her father's name.

At the sound of a soft rap on her office door, she sat up, her eyes popping open.

“Good morning,” her mother said, peeking around the door. “Late night?”

Either her mother was diabolical, a theory Aidan dismissed, or her surveillance team had no idea someone had tried to kill her daughter last night. Frankie heard Aidan's voice urging her to play nice. “Hi, Mom. I just didn't sleep well.”

“Wedding plans do that to a bride.”

Frankie struggled to maintain the eye contact. “I suppose.”

“Was it the elevator? I heard there was an emergency call with an elevator in your building. Do we need to move you and Aidan?”

“Some kind of mechanical failure,” Frankie said slowly. Her mother had friends tailing them who'd surely seen the emergency personnel. If she was responsible for the bugs in the apartment, too, did she know the two of them had been gone all night? Frankie needed another cup of tea before tackling these mental gymnastics. “Don't worry about us.”

“Okay. You know—” Sophia took a small step inside the office “—before your father and I rushed our wedding, the most fun we had was cake testing.”

Frankie swallowed. It wasn't just the idea of cake at eight o'clock in the morning. It was the image of her parents' loving, romantic relationship spiraling into something so terrible. Did love ever last? Great, now she had one more impossible question in need of an answer. “I remember you made chocolate cake every time he returned from a deployment or business trip.”

“His aunt Josie baked the cake for the reception my parents hosted and she gave me the recipe,” Sophia said. “Does Aidan like chocolate cake?”

Frankie nodded, hoping it was true.

“I'll email you the recipe.”

“Thanks.” Frankie deliberately turned her attention to her computer monitor.

Sophia ignored the hint to leave. “I don't want to step on any toes,” she said, her hands clasped tight around the travel mug of coffee in her hands. “But I, um, made a few calls and if you'd like we can preview some bakers this afternoon.”

“What?”

“Just to streamline the process,” she said with a tentative smile. “Naturally you and Aidan will want to make the final choice together.”

“Mom.” Frankie was appalled at the soft sound of her own voice. The love shining in her mother's gaze was worse. Aidan was right, this wasn't the face of a woman who wanted to destroy her daughter.

Frankie cleared her throat and reminded herself she had nothing to lose by playing along with wedding plans that wouldn't happen. It didn't help. She was in too deep with her mom and the fake fiancé who'd become her real lover. “That's thoughtful. Thanks.”

“I sifted through the recommendations and reviews and chose bakers who still had openings in September.”

It was such a caring-mother move. Frankie managed to get air in and out of her lungs without choking. The misery over what had begun as a white lie mounted. Worse, this morning it was surprisingly easy to imagine exchanging vows with Aidan. She gave herself a mental kick. They were here for a purpose and she was letting herself get carried away by the game.

Sophia caught her lip between her teeth. “Are you angry?”

“No.” Not the way she had been. “It just sort of hit me that we do need to make plans. I'd thought I'd have time to enjoy being engaged.”

“And you should.” Her mother sank gracefully into a chair. “We can always shift the date.”

“Maybe.” Frankie mustered a smile. “I'll probably want to move it up after we meet with the bakers.”

The tension fled from Sophia's face. “Oh, good. Afterward maybe you and I can have dinner down in Pike Place Market.”

“That would be great, Mom.” If a mother-daughter dinner worked, she wouldn't squander the opportunity.

Sophia's phone chimed from her pocket. “Meeting alarm,” she said. “It's so hard to think business when my daughter is getting married!”

Frankie admired her mother's ability to hurry without a single outward sign of stress. Years of maintaining her composure as the general's wife had been good training. It should serve as a warning that Sophia Leone was capable of saying one thing while doing another.

Thanks to Aidan planting doubts in her mind, Frankie no longer believed her mother could book wedding cake tasting after ordering a hit on her only child.

Frankie dug into the work. It was the only way to get her mind off the not-going-to-happen wedding plans. She even gave the cyber-crime trends her full attention for over an hour before turning her focus back to her quest for the truth, coming up empty again. She swore under her breath. Either her mother had disposed of all evidence or, as Aidan and Victoria would happily point out, Sophia was innocent. Frankie needed to find something soon. Victoria wouldn't let her monopolize a Colby investigator indefinitely.

“Think!” She drummed her fingertips on her desktop as she considered her next move. There had to be some confirmation of Sophia's source, or a trace of her obligations at the time of the operation that ended Frank Leone's military career.

Frankie worked her way through the company directory, focusing on the legal and organizational angles as the company came together. How long had Sophia and Paul kicked around this idea before taking action?

And suddenly, there it was, the validation Frankie had been looking for. According to the official statement, Sophia had been consulting in Washington, DC, when Frankie was injured. So why did these travel documents show her mother and Paul traveling on a military flight from Germany to New York? Paul had then returned to Seattle, while Sophia met Frankie at Walter Reed Hospital in Maryland.

Her stomach sank. It was the proof she'd wanted to find, what she'd put all her energy into for months. Forty-eight hours ago she would've marched into her mother's office for a confrontation. Today, she saved the information for Aidan to review first. It was still a file in a database and, as he'd pointed out repeatedly, possibly manufactured.

If her mother wasn't guilty of taking down her dad, who would want to make it look that way? Frustrated, Frankie used every computer skill she possessed to catalog the information and store it securely until she and Aidan could plan the next move.

* * *

A
IDAN
SPENT
EVERY
free minute of his day working on Frankie's case. Now that he had her on his side, he didn't want to relinquish the advantage. Paul found him as he and the trainees wrapped up a session on hand-to-hand strategies. “Looks good,” the older man said.

“They're coming along,” Aidan agreed.

Despite the words, Aidan couldn't shake the sensation that Paul wasn't happy with anything at Leo Solutions right now. Aidan didn't have anything solid to pin that on and it made him think he was becoming as paranoid about the man as Frankie was about her mother. Still, his investigative instincts were in high gear.

Paul gestured with the phone in his hand. “Sophia tells me she set up a preview of bakeries for tonight. Says she and Frankie need some time to narrow down the style and choices before they invite you to a tasting. It's code for ‘girls' night out,'” he said, looking less than happy.

“All right.” It required a little too much effort today to remember this was a cover story. After last night—before, if Aidan was honest with himself—he couldn't quite see his future without Frankie in it. “As long as she doesn't leave me out of everything.”

“Ha!” Paul's sharp bark of laughter gave way to a rare, genuine smile. “Trust me, you'll want to leave the details to the women. The days after the ceremony are when the heavy lifting begins.”

Aidan just nodded. That wasn't how he envisioned marriage, but he'd never gotten that far, so what did he know? “Thanks for the heads-up. I should get back to it.” With his evening free he could spend the time digging into the company's records for the source behind the ruination of Frankie's family.

Paul cleared his throat and managed to keep a smile in place. “How about you and I head to my club for dinner? There's a weekly card game if you're interested.”

“Sounds great.” Anything that gave him a better glimpse of Paul could be helpful.

“I have a six o'clock meeting. Then I can swing by the apartment and pick you up by seven-thirty.”

“We can leave from here,” Aidan offered, seizing the excuse to stay late. “I'll have time to clean up and change clothes between classes and the paperwork.”

“All right,” Paul agreed. “I'll send a text when my meeting ends.”

Busy man, and he liked to keep it that way, Aidan thought as Paul walked off. More accurately, he liked to make others believe he was indispensable.

Aidan wasn't convinced, no matter how Sophia explained the professional partnership. Granted, he hadn't been on-site long, but the vibe he picked up was interesting. Employees seemed utterly devoted to Sophia and wary of Paul. There had to be a reason, beyond the man's reticent nature.

Unfortunately, Aidan hadn't been on the job long enough for anyone to confide in him about specifics. And with the elevator attack, he didn't want to drag this out. He sent a text message to Frankie about his plans with Paul and then headed to the mat for the next lesson. When the classes ended, Aidan cleaned up for dinner and retreated to his desk while he waited for Paul.

It hadn't been easy worming his way past the corporate security protocols, but Aidan had experience and tenacity on his side. He'd given up the direct approach—leaving that to Frankie—and started his investigation through lower-level personnel. As a trainer he used his access to review how each personal security officer was connected to Paul, Sophia or both. It made sense that the men and women who'd been with the company since the outset had worked with one or both of them on other endeavors.

He found his way back to the Lennox file and continued searching for the man who'd approached Frankie in Savannah. The guy couldn't just show up and disappear. Aidan had just found a plane ticket matching Lennox's ID when the text message from Paul came through.

At least he had something to chew on as soon as dinner was over. Quickly, Aidan copied the information to the cloud storage sites for Victoria. He'd tell Frankie in person, hopefully over wedding cake samples.

Paul was uncharacteristically chatty in the car and Aidan struggled to keep up with the conversation while his mind worked through the case.

“Scotch?” Paul offered, pulling down a panel of the backseat to reveal two highball glasses and a decanter of pale amber liquid.

“I'll pass,” Aidan replied. “Thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He poured a generous serving into one glass. “Has to be the best perk of having a driver in this city,” he said.

“You're not from Seattle?”

“Hell, no.” He sipped the Scotch. “I tried to convince Sophia there were areas more conducive to our business, but she was determined to pin the headquarters here.” He gazed about, eyeing the traffic through the windows.

They had plenty of time to enjoy the view of Seattle sparkling at twilight at the edge of Puget Sound, since the freeway was clogged with commuters. As traffic jams went, this wasn't bad. This part of the world was so different from his other experiences, Aidan soaked it up.

Paul raised his glass, draining the contents. “So, how are things going?”

“Well, thanks,” Aidan replied honestly. “It's good work—”

A car rear-ended the sedan, cutting him off.

“What was that?” Paul demanded, twisting around in his seat.

His pulse jumping into high gear, Aidan looked in turn. A bullet screamed through the rear window, exiting through the windshield. Aidan hunkered down, resisting the urge to go for the weapon in his ankle holster.

“Get us out of here,” Paul roared to the driver.