The Wedding Trap (Second Service) (7 page)

She skittered back until her back was against the wall at the back of the alley. She was trapped.

The man looked up. His eyes locked with hers. His mouth twisted up in a murderous grin. He rushed her.

Faster than Beth could blink, Charlie wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. With one sickening twist, her attacker’s head snapped to the side. A vacant look instantly filled his eyes, and his body went slack. His dead weight slumped to the ground.

Beth stared. That didn't just happen. It couldn't have.

She pressed her spine against the jagged brick wall at her back, desperate to get away from the body.

A body. Dear God, there was a dead body in front of her. Dead eyes looked past her, but she couldn't look away.

"Beth."

She barely heard her name. It sounded like it was coming from far away. Her knees began to buckle. She didn't want to fall. If she did, she’d fall on top of it.

Oh God.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a rush of air that sputtered at the end.

"Are you all right?" Charlie grasped her upper arms, forcing her to meet his gaze. She kept staring at the dead man. Charlie gave her a little shake when she didn't answer. "Are you hurt?"

She looked up at him. There was concern in his eyes. Concern and something else. Fear. He was afraid she'd been hurt.

The concern confused her more than anything. He'd just killed a man, right in front of her. And he'd done it with a kind of graceful efficiency that told her this wasn't the first time he'd done such a thing.

"Beth?"

She shook her head. "I-I'm not hurt," she said.

He looked her up and down once before trusting her words. Only then did he let her go.

“Don't look at him, Beth,” Charlie said calmly. "Look at me."

Beth snapped her eyes back to Charlie’s face and kept them there.

"Y-you killed him." Her lips struggled to form the words.

"I did," he said. He put his hand out to her. It was covered in blood. “You’re safe now.”

"You killed him," she repeated, louder this time.

He held his finger up to his lips. She glanced behind him. Just beyond was a city street, filled with sunlight and people. Someone could walk by at any moment. Someone could look down the alley and catch them with a dead body.

"I had to. He was going to kill you, Beth."

She shook her head frantically. "Why? Why would anyone want to kill me?" The words tumbled out of her. She didn't expect an answer, and he didn't give one.

"Breathe," he told her. "Sit down if you need to."

Beth nodded. She derived a strange sense of calm from the orders that he gave her. Someone else was in charge, and she didn't have to figure out what to do. She only had to listen. There was no reason in her brain right now. There was only the haunting image of life flickering out of the dead man's eyes.

She slid down the wall until her legs were tucked underneath her.

"I need to move him," Charlie said. His words floated in and out of Beth's head. “You might want to look away."

Beth nodded, but her eyes stayed fixed on Charlie as he grabbed the dead man by the arms. He pulled him easily around the corner. With a barely a grunt, he lifted the large man into the dumpster and arranged some garbage bags over him. Then he pulled out his phone. He pressed a single button and waited.

He spoke softly into the phone. Beth didn't catch every word he said, but it sounded like he was giving someone their location. After that there were some words she didn't understand, then a series of letters and numbers. Beth didn't try too hard to make sense of it.

A minute later, he came over and held out his hand. She stared at it. He'd wiped off most of the blood, but there was still some buried in the creases of his palms and underneath his fingernails.

"Beth," he prompted her, breaking her out of her dark thoughts. "I need to get you out of here."

Her hand was openly shaking as she slid it into his. He pulled her up, and tucked her against his side.

Beth winced as the light hit her eyes, making it almost impossible to see in the bright, midday sun. She hadn't been in the alley for more than a few minutes, but it seemed like an eternity.

"Shouldn't we call the police?" she asked, once her brain had caught up.

"I've already taken care of it," he said. The phone call. Of course he had.

He started walking, pulling her behind him on the sidewalk.

"Shouldn't we wait until they get here?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. There might be more men. They might be watching us right now."

Beth's heart pounded. He didn’t have to clarify who he meant. More men who wanted to attack her. They could be around every corner. But why would they be? It didn't make any sense. None of this did.

She stumbled, and he pulled her closer. She leaned against him, her legs like jelly, letting him take the brunt of her weight. He didn't seem to mind.

"It's just the adrenaline," he said. "You'll be fine in a little while.”

She nodded because she couldn't think of anything else to do. The people passing by paid them no attention. They didn't seem to notice the flecks of blood that dotted Charlie's jacket, or her shaking legs.

"It's only another couple of blocks back to the hotel," he said. "You're going to make it.”

Of course she would. What choice did she have? She couldn't break down in the middle of the street, just because her entire life had just changed back in that alley. She’d watched a man die. She’d been part of it.

She couldn't think about that. Right now, all she had to do was concentrate on keeping one foot in front of the other.

Somehow she managed.

Then she had to get up to the fourth floor. She pulled away from Charlie and hurried through the lobby. She didn't care anymore if anyone thought that something was wrong with her.

All she wanted to be was safe in her room, reasonably certain that no one with a gun or knife would be coming through the locked door. She took the stairs. There was no way that she was waiting for the elevator. Charlie kept pace with her. She didn't stop until every lock on the door was bolted behind her.

Then the tears came. She wasn't even aware of them at first. It wasn’t until her shoulders started shaking that she realized she was crying.

Her legs gave out underneath her and she crumpled onto the floor. In an instant, Charlie was there, wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in close, just like he'd done when he was helping her back to hotel. Just like he'd been every moment since she'd walked into the hotel. Charlie was there.

Chapter 6

He let her cry. He couldn’t have stopped her sobs even if he wanted to. Besides, it was better if she processed all the emotions swirling inside her. Her mind would be clearer once she got it all out of her system. Maybe then he would be able to get the information he needed from her.

They had very little time before guests arrived. It wouldn't take long for John’s crew to find the body and clean up the mess. After that John would be coming up to talk to Beth.

There were still tears in Beth’s eyes when she stopped crying ten minutes later, but the worst of the shaking had subsided. He helped her up off the floor and led her to a chair, sitting down next to her.

"We have to talk," he said quietly.

She stared off into the distance for a second before nodding.

"Can you think of any reason why someone would want you dead?" he asked.

She turned toward him, her eyes unfocused. First, confusion swam in the honey-brown depths, then certainty.

"No one,” she said. "That guy had to be a mugger or something. A random psychopath."

"No, he wasn’t.”

"Of course he was.”

He could see the wheels turning in her head, as she frantically tried to make sense of a situation that had ripped a hole in all that she believed. He'd seen it so many times, but he’d never before wanted to pull someone into his arms and tell them that everything was going to be all right.

"That man wasn't a mugger, Beth. His name was Bruno Staal. He was a well known hit man for several criminal organizations.”

"You knew him?" she asked. Her eyes lit up with certainty. "He was after you."

“He wasn't.”

"Of course he was. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Alex shook his head. “Staal didn't give me a second look until I pushed you into that alley.”

“Then how did you know him?” she asked.

“It’s my job to know.”

“Your job?” The look in her eyes changed. Wariness filled her body. She pulled away, just a fraction of an inch, enough to feel like she'd stabbed a dagger deep into his chest. “Who the hell are you? I want the truth.”

He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "My name is Alex Tanner. I’m with the CIA."

She looked at him in confusion, as if he had spoken a foreign language she didn't understand.

"The CIA?" she repeated.

He nodded.

"What the hell is the CIA doing at my best friend's wedding?”

“Not the whole CIA. Just me. The mission I’m on is being led by the Department of Homeland Security.”

"A mission? What mission could you possibly have at Isobel's—” She stopped short, her mouth slightly open as she thought. "This has to do with Isobel's uncle, doesn't it?"

He leaned forward. "You know about Salvatore Munoz?"

"Yeah, I guess. Only what Isobel has told me. I know he’s bad news. I've only met him a couple of times, but each time he’s freaked me out," she said. "You think that someone associated with Salvatore Munoz wants to kill me?"

“Staal was a known associate of Munoz. He was connected to over a hundred murders and disappearances. If he was coming for you today, there was a reason. He received his orders from someone."

Fear lit up her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her middle. He didn't like seeing her afraid, but he wasn't going to lie to her. If she was marked by Munoz she had a right to know just how bad it was.

He reached out and put a hand on her knee. She looked at it warily, but didn't move away.

"What I said this morning is still true, Beth. I will keep you safe. I promise."

Three light knocks rapped against the door. Beth nearly jumped out of the chair, her eyes wide with fear.

"It's all right," he said. "We're expecting company."

***

Beth jumped to her feet as a stranger entered the room. He was tall, solidly built and looked to be about the same age as Char—Alex. The men greeted each other with a handshake. Still, Beth went around to the other side of the chair.

Alex might know this guy, but that didn't mean that she was going to greet him with open arms. Hell, she wasn't sure if she would ever trust another stranger in her life.

The men whispered for a couple of seconds. The stranger’s eyes flashed toward her. She really wanted to believe Alex when he said that he was going to keep her safe, but this wasn't exactly the kind of behavior that inspired confidence.

"Hey," she said. Both men turned toward her. "Maybe I've seen too many movies, but please tell me that this isn't the part where you decide that I know too much, then turn around and shoot me."

The stranger arched a brow but no other hint of expression showed on his face. If his career in government intimidation didn’t work out, he had a future as a poker player. “Miss Bradley?"

"Yeah," she said, gripping the back of the chair even tighter. She had the distinct feeling she'd just poked a tiger with a stick.

“I am Agent John Ryman, and I assure you I came up here with no intention of doing you any harm."

Beth looked toward Alex for confirmation.

"It's okay, Beth. John is cool," he said.

“You’re sure about that?”

He gave a little laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“
How
are you sure?” She wasn’t taking anything on faith right now.

“We were in the Navy together.”

She looked between the two formidable men. “What, were you guys on the same SEAL team, or something?”

Alex and his friend stared at her silently.

Okay, then.

Agent Ryman took a step toward her. Beth fought off the urge to take a step back. There was nothing soothing or suave about the man. She didn't doubt for a second that he was every bit as deadly and dangerous as Alex…Agent Alex Tanner. He just didn't hide it nearly as well.

"Why don't you tell me everything that happened this afternoon, Miss Bradley," he said, taking a seat. The fact that he was lower than her did nothing to take away his menacing air.

Beth shot a glance at Alex.

“John’s here to help,” he said.

"A crazy man came after me with a gun," she said. "There isn't much more to the story."

“Can you think of any reason why someone would want to put a hit out on you?” Agent Ryman asked.

“No. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Agent Ryman’s eyes narrowed. “There has to be some reason.”

Beth’s pulse began to race. It was bad enough nearly getting killed out in the street. She didn’t need some thick-necked stranger suggesting that she’d brought it on herself.

“And if I knew it, I would tell you,” Beth said. “Isn’t possible that this Bruno guy was just trying to get to Charlie—I mean, Alex—through me?”

“Doubtful,” Agent Ryman said.

Beth waited for him to explain, but he didn’t say anything else. Apparently, she was just supposed to take his word for it.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

“And why is it so doubtful?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

A sardonic smile lifted just the right corner of John’s lips. He glanced down at the floor, shaking his head. "If Bruno Staal had known that he would be meeting Alex in that alley today he would have come armed with a hell of a lot more than a pistol and a knife. He would have brought an army.”

Agent Ryman’s words drained the fire out of Beth's belly, and she swallowed hard. Who the hell was Alex Tanner? Was he really as dangerous as this guy made him sound? Of course he was. She'd already seen proof of that.

Her hands started to shake again.

Agent Ryman looked up at Alex. It was obvious that the men had known each other for a while. Alex took over.

“I need you to focus, Beth. Is there any reason that Isobel’s uncle might want to hurt you?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No. I barely know Salvatore. I've probably only said half a dozen words to him in the last fifteen years."

“It’s okay, Beth. Just think. Is there anything that happened in the past?”

"Nothing."

Agent Ryman leaned forward. "How about the bride? Isobel? Could she have any reason to want you dead?"

Beth’s fear instantly turned to anger at the question. She glared at him. Trained killer or not, she wasn't about to listen to him slander her friend. "This has nothing to do with Isobel."

"We can't be sure of that," Agent Ryman said evenly.

"
You
might not be sure, but I'm goddamned certain," she said. ”Char—Alex, tell this guy that there's no way that Isobel is involved with anything to do with her uncle. She's as afraid of him as I am."

"John’s just doing his job. He's here to help keep you safe, and right now that means we can't rule out any option." Alex said, lowering his voice.

She was starting to recognize the manipulation technique. Well, it wasn't going to work on her. They could go and find someone else to play good cop/bad cop with. Or whatever the hell they were.

“You’re wasting your time looking at Isobel,” she said. “But to answer your question, no. There’s no reason she’d want to hurt me. I’m her maid of honor, for heaven’s sake.”

Agent Ryman leaned forward. “Think hard, Miss Bradley. Something had to spark this attempt on your life. At this point nothing is too small to consider.”

"Seriously, there's been noth—" Beth froze, her tongue still trapped between her teeth. The memory of Salvatore’s angry face flashed through her mind. She'd interrupted him in the laundry room. She remembered the envelope, the briefcase that had been pushed his way. The murderous look in his eyes when he’d seen her. She thought of what the man with him had whispered to Salvatore.

Not here.

Oh, dear God.

Beth looked up from the floor. Her gaze locked with Alex's.

“I think I know what this is about."

She relayed the story of what had happened earlier that morning. Alex stiffened as she told the details of the threat she had seen in his eyes. Agent Ryman listened with less attention.

“I was so upset after finding your gun this morning that I guess I forgot all about it,” she said. "I haven't thought about it all day."

"You found Alex’s gun?” Agent Ryman asked incredulously, cracking a trace of a grin at Alex.

Alex brushed him off. "This man who was with Salvatore Munoz, did you get a good look at him?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so. He was as close to me as Salvatore was."

"Do you think that you would recognize him if you saw him again?” Alex asked.

Beth nodded. That moment was etched in her mind. She recalled every second and sound of it. If she ever ran into that man again, she'd know.

“Can you give me a description?” Agent Ryman asked.

"White guy. Tall...ish, maybe six feet. Brown hair, cut above his ears. Late thirties, early forties. Brown eyes. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt."

Alex and John shared a look, not a particularly happy one. She'd just described about a third of the hotel's guests.

"Was there anything distinguishing about him at all?” Ryman asked.

Beth shook her head. “Not that I can remember,” she said. "Is he important?"

The men glanced at each other before looking back at her. She knew what they were doing—they were figuring out how much to tell her, and she didn't like it one bit. She had spilled everything she knew, even when all she had wanted to do was curl up into a ball and hide under the bed for the next ten years.

"Tell me who he is," she said. "If my life is in danger, I deserve to know."

"The man you saw is the reason why I’m at this hotel,” Alex said after a long moment had passed.

“I thought you were here for Salvatore Munoz.”

“That’s why he’s here.” Alex inclined his head toward Agent Ryman. “I’m here to capture a CIA leak.”

“So, who is this guy?” she asked.

"We don't know," Agent Ryman said.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Around the time that we found out that Munoz would be traveling to the United States, we discovered a breach of classified information concerning the strategic oil reserves. We have reason to believe that someone working inside the CIA is looking to sell that information to the Venezuelans.”

“That must have been what I interrupted.”

“It makes sense,” Alex said. “They would have to meet face to face. A digital transmission would be too easy for us trace. Whoever this guy is, he knows that. He's good at covering his tracks.”

Beth rounded the chair and sat down. She wasn’t frightened anymore. She was just tired.

“So, I’m the only one who can identify him?” she asked, deflating as reality sunk in.

“It looks that way,” Agent Ryman said.

“This guy you’re after, he’s not just going to give up, is he? He’s going to come after me again.”