WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING (7 page)

He drew her body close to his and she had the wild hope he would kiss her again.

“Go,” he whispered against her cheek as the next song started.

Cecelia went. Like the hounds of hell were on her heels. Within seconds she heard heavy footfalls behind her as she rounded the corner. On a prayer the restroom might be empty, she pushed through the door into the ladies’ room and spun a quick circle in search of anything she could use as a weapon. She should have gone back into that alley for her Taser. She’d dropped it after putting that creep down. She’d never had to use it before.

If she couldn’t Taser a guy without being shaken, how was she ever going to fire a weapon?

“Focus, Cecelia,” she muttered. She needed a weapon. Nothing presented itself, and she knew her best bet was to barricade herself in one of the stalls and wait for Emmett.

She scrambled into a stall, set the latch and climbed onto the closed toilet seat. As the two men barreled in, Cecelia peered through the crack in the stall door and nearly groaned when a young woman stepped out of the stall closest to the door.
Heather.

“Uh, wrong door, guys.”

“Where is Mrs. Manning?”

These two knew her name?
Any lingering notion she’d harbored that the attack after dinner had been a random mugging or a case of mistaking her for another woman fled. Not that she’d really believed it, even at the time.

“Not in here. You guys are at the wrong party,” Heather added, trying to get around the men to the sink. “Get out.”

One of the men caught Heather’s arm hard enough to make her cry out.

“Show yourself, Manning.”

Dear Lord. Cecelia couldn’t let them hurt the younger woman. “Let her go,” she said, stepping out of the last stall.

“Come with us. Now,” the other man ordered.

“As soon as you let her go,” Cecelia repeated with far more calm than she felt.

The man holding Heather pulled a gun and pressed it to Heather’s side. The girl paled. “We all go together.”

“Not acceptable.” Cecelia inched closer to the next stall, judging the reach of the second man.
Come on, Emmett.
None of the self-defense moves she knew were applicable from this distance. She had to find a way to get Heather away from that gun.

“Last warning,” Cecelia promised. “Let. Her. Go.” She took a step closer with each word and on the last she let the second man catch her arm. She resisted and then suddenly gave in when he pulled harder. The result brought her careening into his chest and the momentum carried them both into his partner.

The four of them landed in a heap against the wall with Cecelia on top. The gun, thank God, had fallen closest to her. She stomped and punched on every sensitive area possible as she scrambled to her feet.

“Run, Heather!”

Heather obeyed, bolting through the open doorway as Emmett rushed in and Cecelia grabbed the gun.

“Can I just shoot them?” Maybe the weapon part wouldn’t be as difficult as she’d thought. What kind of lowlifes would use a young woman as leverage?

“Works for me.”

Both men started to protest. Cecelia glanced at Emmett and her heart skipped when he smiled at her.

“Do me a favor and just kneecap them,” he suggested.

She adjusted her aim and the men shouted again until Emmett silenced each with precisely placed pressure on the carotid artery.

“We should get you out of here.”

“Will you tell me what the hell is going on?” she demanded.

“Just as soon as I figure it out,” he said, handing her coat to her.

Emmett searched the unconscious pair for identification while she shrugged into her coat. He examined their phones and wallets as she dropped the small revolver into her purse. If she hadn’t been watching him closely, she would have missed the quick move when he put a phone from his jacket into the pocket of one of the men.

With more questions begging to be asked, she followed him out of the restroom, down the corridor and out the back door of the building. If Heather had rushed out to call the police, it hadn’t stopped the partying.

If someone had asked her, Cecelia wouldn’t have been able to logically justify her decision to stick with Emmett as he led her away and toward the water. The sounds of the party faded, replaced by the soothing lap of water against the moorings and their soft, rapid steps on the planks of the gangway.

Darkness enveloped them beneath the low glow of the sparsely placed lamps marking the intersections of the gangway with the narrow floating docks that stretched out toward the water.

Emmett took her hand, steadying her as they turned down the last dock. Boats rocked gently in the slips on either side. If he had been sent to kidnap her, she was making it easy for him. But she couldn’t make herself believe that was his goal.

He’d had ample opportunity and offers to let others do it for him. No, there was more going on here, and as soon as she knew they were safe, she was going to demand answers.

He stopped abruptly and pressed a finger to her lips. “You have the gun?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He withdrew his finger. “Sit here and use it if you have to.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just wait here while I make sure it’s clear.”

“I could run,” she pointed out.

That stopped him. He turned back slowly. “Do you want to?”

The edge in his voice—sharper than that broken bottle—was enough to make her grateful she couldn’t see what was surely a cold expression marring his handsome face.

“No.” Not yet, she amended silently. She could only assume the men who had attacked them were working for Thomas’s enemy. That was the only explanation that made sense.

But that only proved her brother’s point that his enemy couldn’t have found
her
without access to highly classified files. Files that technically didn’t exist. Files a deputy director could access easily.

“Let’s go.”

She jumped and nearly dropped the revolver she’d balanced on her knee. He’d returned in complete silence; the dock hadn’t even shifted. “How’d you do that?”

“Practice.” His hand cupped her elbow. “Three steps down,” he advised when he paused again at a slip.

She couldn’t see much beyond the general shape of the boat and she took the steps slowly in the dark. The boat rocked slightly beneath her feet with her third step.

“Left,” he said, guiding her with his strong hands.

Looking that way, she saw a sliver of light seeping through a thin crack of a hatch near the boat’s bow. She felt him next to her, a bundle of tension and heat, his intriguing scent mingling with the water and night.

“Just follow me. You’re safe. You have my word.”

His voice, his touch, both made her
feel
safe. But was she?

With one hand on the gun in her pocket, she followed him farther into the dark, wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into. In reality, she didn’t have a choice here. What she had was an opportunity. An opportunity to help her brother and the CIA take down a traitor.

And maybe to prove she wasn’t a total fool.

She prayed she wasn’t a total fool.

Chapter Eight

After securing the door, Holt watched Cecelia turn a slow circle, taking in the quarters of his modest cruiser, and waited for the disappointment. He should have known she’d be too polite to let it show.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, sounding breathless.

“Thanks,” he muttered. He didn’t believe her. His boat wasn’t gorgeous, it was simple. Sure, he’d chosen the finest materials when he’d done the necessary upgrades, but the streamlined design made the most of space best described as cramped. It hadn’t bothered him before because he hadn’t planned to ever share these quarters with anyone. Seeing her here had him questioning his solitary plans, which was a completely random and impossible line of thinking.

She was the director’s sister and a potential victim he was trying to protect by pretending to date her. Key word:
pretending.
He had to keep that in mind.

“Were you sailing on this when you took those pictures down along the Florida Keys?” She moved about the space, touching his things. His body reacted as if she were touching him.

“That’s where I picked her up,” he said. It surprised him how much pleasure he got from her enthusiasm for the boat and the pictures he’d taken. Sailing wasn’t in her online profile and his searches hadn’t revealed any recent love of the sea, but by now he should expect the unexpected where Cecelia Manning was concerned.

Holt rarely encountered anyone who surprised him as much as this beautiful woman. She was nervous about being here alone with him. But she’d come willingly. That said, she still clutched the weapon in her pocket.

“You can let go of the gun. I’m not stealing you away.” Not tonight, anyway. Based on Isely’s behavior, it looked like tomorrow was still task one on the agenda.

She visibly attempted to relax, withdrawing her hand from her pocket but leaving the weapon there in case she needed it. As if she knew what the move did to him, she ran her newly freed hand along the polished teak of the cabinetry.

Holt had to look away. His imagination painted a vivid picture of her hands running over his skin with the same blatant appreciation.

Wasn’t going to happen.
Not once she knew the truth. Hell, she probably already knew more than she should. Focus, man. He needed a change of clothes. To get the grime of thugs off him.

“It’s so warm.”

He stopped in the process of emptying his pockets onto the narrow table, certain he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Pardon me?”

“The cabin,” she said. “I would have expected it to be cold down here.”

Ah, that made more sense and was a complete departure from where his thoughts had traveled. “Yeah. That’s part of the design.” He opened the laptop he kept on board and inserted a flash drive. “I’ll get you back to your hotel just as soon as I check out a few things.” Primarily that it would be safe to take her there. Highly unlikely, but he had an obligation to check.

“No rush. It’s nice to just breathe for a moment.”

“You should call your brother and let him know you’re safe.”

Holt didn’t like the look she sent his way but he ignored it, putting his energy into gaining some insight about Isely’s inexplicable escalation. If she hadn’t known who he was before, she’d certainly already figured out plenty about him.

“So you do know who I am. Who I’m related to.”

“I know you’re Cecelia Manning. Recently widowed, philanthropist and your slice backhand is the best shot of your tennis game. You enjoy time with friends, your weekly yoga class and prefer pinot noir to merlot.”

“The wine thing wasn’t on my profile.”

Time to face the music. There was no more time for games. “No, I learned that by perusing your wine rack.”

“You’ve been in my
house?
”

The astonishment on her face sucker punched him. He gritted his teeth for a second then said the rest. “Easier to plant the bugs that way.”

“You bugged my house.” She swore softly, but with enough heat that he knew her cooperation was over.

He’d just have to deal with that. Better to clear the air here and now so they could be on the same page moving forward. She might hate him for his tactics, but he couldn’t leave her alone now. Not with Isely’s erratic behavior. Holt opened his mouth, but her clear, regal voice filled the galley instead.

“Thomas did put you up to this. I’m going to kill him with my bare hands,” she finished with a low growl. “He’s getting better at lying to me. There was a time when he would never have been able to pull something like this over on me.”

Her statement about Casey gave him pause. “No. Wait. You can tell when he’s lying?” It was something Holt still hadn’t mastered and a skill that would be useful beyond measure. Assuming he managed to keep his job.

“Apparently not anymore,” she glared at him, then she bit her lip and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Don’t do that.” He could not deal with a weepy woman tonight. Not any time.

Less than half an hour ago, she’d danced like they’d never been jumped in the alley. Her eyes had been clear when she’d agreed to kneecap the assailants at the party if necessary. Why would learning their connection had been a setup distress her so?

“Don’t worry. I won’t crumple.” She gazed upward and blinked rapidly. “I’m just angry.”

An unexpected emotion nudged him. Guilt. “You’re wrong. Sort of. Thomas had nothing to do with this. Unless you told him, he doesn’t know about us.”

“Us?”
She gave a short, brittle laugh.

“Us.” He forgot the mission and the phones and reached across the small cabin for her, realizing he’d lose her cooperation completely if he didn’t handle this right. Her cooperation was critical in these next hours, even if Thomas didn’t understand that yet. If she broke down in a panic or flew off in a rage, Isely would have her—and use her against the two most knowledgeable agents in Mission Recovery.

She shrugged him off, but there was nowhere for her to go. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close until she stopped struggling. “Just let me explain.”

“You lied to me. All these weeks.” Tears threatened again, but she prevailed. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. I lie to everyone. It’s part of the job, and I’m very good at my job.”

She blew out a sharp breath that shifted her bangs out of her eyes. “I know. I know.”

“From what I hear, you’ll be joining the ranks of people like me next month.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course a man in your position could find that out.”

“Are you excited about the move to ops?”

She scowled up at him, clearly unwilling to change the subject. Wisps of her hair were tangled at the corner of her long lashes and he cautiously moved them to the side.

At least the tears were gone and she looked like her composed self again. And mad as hell.

“Thomas said someone wants to kidnap me.”

Holt nodded. “That he was right about that should be obvious after two attacks in as many hours.”

“He mentioned your name.”

Holt stiffened. “Good.”

Those lake-blue eyes of hers went wide. “Good?”

“That’s what I need him to believe.” He took in the clenched teeth. “His warning is why you thought about ditching me at the bar.” That last part was a guess, but coming to that conclusion was fairly easy.

She sniffed, clearly annoyed he’d deduced correctly. “And just what am I supposed to believe, Mr. Holt?”

There was an easy answer, but he couldn’t get the words past his lips. Lips that wanted to taste hers again and show her the honest, brutal need for her beating like a drum inside him.

To preserve his sanity, he released her and took a step back. To seal the deal on her continued cooperation he said what he needed to say. “When I learned you might be a target, I used the online profile to get closer. Thomas doesn’t know anything about my approach, and I’m sure he’d be furious to know how much I’ve come to care for you.”

She scoffed, turning her back on him and tracing the wave design carved into the cabinet door. “He said I was a pawn.”

“To his enemy, you are.”

“But not to you.”

He should clarify, admit the confusion twisting inside his gut where she was concerned, but they were short on time. On some level what he said wasn’t a lie. But this was new territory for him, these emotions unfamiliar. This was no time to be confused. He slid onto the bench at the table and set out the phones he’d taken from Isely’s men.

Rather than dwell on the confusion, he focused on the facts. “The team Thomas assigned to follow you is in a world of hurt about now. Please send him a text that you’re okay and safely in your room.”

“I should.” She pulled out her phone, tapping it against her open palm. “No matter what I tell him, he’ll only follow the GPS signal here.”

“You disabled that before you left the hotel to meet me.”

She gave him a startled look, but didn’t deny it. “For the date that wasn’t,” she groused.

“I think it would’ve been a great night if we’d been left alone.”

“Maybe,” she allowed.

“Why’d you do it?”

“The GPS or the date?”

“The GPS.” Though he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he would very much like it if she answered both questions.

She shrugged. “Thomas likes a challenge. I assume he recruits like-minded people.”

Holt laughed at her accurate assumption. “Here I thought it was because you were ashamed to be seen with me.”

She leaned back against the woodwork she’d admired and did something with her phone before dumping it back in her purse. She drummed her fingers lightly as she watched him.

He didn’t care for the close study, but he managed to ignore it.

“I was never ashamed to meet you. Not even after Thomas warned me off. I was curious. Excited,” she admitted. “And not at all ready to share you with my overprotective family or nosy friends. I was determined to prove that Thomas was wrong about you. I’m reassessing that conclusion just now.”

“Are you always so candid?” He started downloading the text messages and recent locations logged by the system since the phones were activated.

“No.”

He counted himself fortunate in that much, at least. “How did you plan to explain my appearance tomorrow night?”

“Vaguely.”

She was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. It worried him. Not the smile specifically, but recognizing her inflections so well already. Not recognizing, he amended, reacting to. That was the issue here. Recognizing what others were thinking was his job. Reacting this way to anyone was not.

“What are you doing?”

“Reviewing communications,” he said. Then an idea occurred to him. Cecelia didn’t like her brother and daughter doubting her. “Want to help?”

“Sure.”

She slid onto the bench beside him and the hint of vanilla in her perfume tugged at his senses. The scent was one he associated with innocence, but the images she inspired were in no way innocent. Having her join him had been a mistake. A rookie mistake. He hadn’t made one of those since he’d actually been a rookie. He handed her a phone and told her to run through the call log and text messages.

“We’ll take out the SIM cards and toss the phones on our way to the hotel.”

“
Our
way?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you out of my sight. They’d have you in less than a minute.”

“I’m not that easy.”

“No, you’re not. But they
are
that good.”

“Thomas thinks you’re working with them. I get the impression they think you’re working with them.”

Ah, more of that refreshing frankness. He slid down the bench and away so he could gather the few things he needed. He didn’t reply to her fishing comment.

“Oh, I get it. That’s what they’re supposed to believe.”

“You’re a quick study. Can you finish this while I pack?”

“If you tell me what I’m looking for.”

“You’ll know it when you see it. One-word messages. Addresses. There’s probably nothing incriminating anyway, but I want to try.”

His laptop and tuxedo were already at the room he’d booked under an alias at the Plaza, but he wanted a change of clothes, his camera and the money and gun he knew would trace back to Isely’s illegal operation.

“Emmett?”

“Yeah?”

“Who is Irina?”

The name wasn’t familiar to him. “Could be a contact.”

“Hmm. There’s a date listed in the next message.” She nudged the phone across the table to show him the text message. “It’s this Saturday.”

The day after the gala where Isely had ordered him to kidnap her. He thought of the warehouse address he’d received at the restaurant. A warehouse on the water would be the perfect staging area and make it easy for Isely to take Cecelia out of the country.

“What are the other numbers?” she asked.

He looked. “Best guess is latitude and longitude.” As specific as an address could be, Holt thought with more than a little frustration for not anticipating an exchange at sea. Without a deeper investigation into the name listed, he couldn’t make assumptions.

“But—”

He cut her off. “We can analyze it later.” He made sure the information was downloaded, then closed the computer and tucked the SIM cards into his camera bag. “For now we have to get you back to the hotel without being intercepted by your brother or Isely’s crew.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He stared at her, caught the sparkle in her eyes. “You’re serious.”

She nodded. “I’ll think of it as an early training exercise.”

“Except this is real and your life is in danger.”

“Seems like mine isn’t the only one. You appear to have a few enemies of your own.”

“A few more now since I didn’t hand you over to Isely’s men tonight.”

“Why does he want me?”

“So he can cause your brother pain.” But he was starting to suspect there was more going on in Isely’s mind than just his determination to destroy Thomas’s family and reputation.

“What did Thomas do?”

“His job.”

Holt doused the lights in the cabin, relieved when the darkness seemed to mute Cecelia, as well. She was asking too many questions he wasn’t ready to answer.