BULLETPROOF BRIDE

by Diana Duncan

  "Oh, Tess!" Tears brimmed in Mel's eyes. "He didn't—"

  "No! He was actually kind of … sweet."

  Mel shook her head, making her short blond curls bounce. "A sweet bank-robbing kidnapper? Obviously, you're still under the influence of your lovely purple and green lump there. Did they take X rays?"

  In spite of her pain, Tessa couldn't stop a chuckle. "A CAT scan. Other than a headache, I'm fine. And I want out of here."

  "Okay. I'll rustle up some clothes and be right back."

  "How? Nothing will be open at this hour."

  "I'll find something. Oh, Dale and the Dragon Lady are outside. Nurse Ratched wouldn't let them in your room. Apparently, a fiancé doesn't count as family."

  "How did you get in?"

  Melody grinned and buffed her nails on her red turtleneck. "I told her I was your sister."

  "You're impossible!" Tessa smiled. "But I'm glad you were here when I woke up."

  "A tiny white lie for the benefit of everyone isn't that terrible. What Nurse Ratched doesn't know won't hurt her. I'm outta here. Do you want me to send in the clowns?"

  Tessa groaned. "Melody Parrish!"

  "Mea culpa. Do you want your blue-eyed bland and his fire-breathing mamma invited in?"

  "Yes, send in my fiancé and future mother-in-law, please."

  Mel hurried out. Seconds later, Lucille glided in, followed by Dale. Immaculate in a beige Chanel suit, the petite woman shook her head. "Tessa! We've been worried sick, and the nurse wouldn't let us in!" Lucille peered at Tessa's forehead. "Oh, dear! I hope that fades before the wedding, or the photographs will need to be retouched."

  Concern darkening his sky-blue eyes, her tall, broad-shouldered fiancé stepped forward, dwarfing his tiny mother. "Are you all right?"

  "Only a bump, nothing major."

  "Dale, darling, wait outside for a moment." Though phrased as a request, Lucille's steely tone brooked no argument.

  "Why?" Dale cocked his head. "I just got here, and I want to make sure Tessa is okay."

  "I'd like a word alone with her. You know, woman to woman."

  "Ah." Dale nodded. "Tessa, you're probably thirsty. Would you like some water, or a soda? Do you feel up to eating anything?"

  She ran a dry tongue across her teeth. Her mouth was as nasty tasting as if the French Foreign Legion had marched through and left their boots behind. "Nothing to eat, but a Sprite sounds great, thanks."

  "Okay, let me know when you're done with your girl talk." Dale departed.

  While Tessa appreciated her fiancé's considerate offer, her skin prickled with annoyance at his easy capitulation. She'd always thought a man who treated his mother with such respect was charming. Girl talk or no, Gabe wouldn't stand for being ordered out. She frowned. Now why had she thought of him at a time like this?

  Lucille's ice-blue eyes narrowed to slits and she dropped her voice to a murmur. "Did that criminal attack you?"

  "Why does everybody ask me that? He behaved like a perfect gentleman." Tessa's frown deepened. "And frankly, I don't appreciate your intrusion into my privacy."

  "Tessa! You've never spoken to me with disrespect." Lucille patted her hand. "It must be the head injury."

  Tessa snatched her hand away. First the cop, then the doctor and now Lucille. If one more person patted her, she'd scream.

  Lucille sighed. "I was so excited about having grandchildren immediately, but now I suppose a baby will have to wait until there's no doubt about diseases."

  Though she'd never hit anyone in her life, the desire to slap Lucille's elegant face burned through Tessa and she clenched her fists. She'd always thought of marrying Dale as gaining both a husband and a mother. Her own mother had been obsessed by her lovers, the New York soap opera scene and Tessa's brother Jules's tennis career. Vivienne had hidden her awkward, overweight daughter at a boarding school on the opposite coast and never discussed her. Tessa had believed Lucille's involvement in Dale's life was motherly love, but now it seemed motherly love had become blatant interference. No way would she let Lucille control her marriage, including when to have children.

  She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths and relax her hands. Now was a fine time to have second thoughts—the wedding was less than two weeks away.

  I can't imagine anything worse. Except prison. Gabe's heartfelt anti-marriage sentiment echoed through her throbbing temples. Did a green-eyed bandit have anything to do with her sudden enlightenment?

  The door opened, and Mel strode in carrying a paper bag. "I'm back, with a change of clothes. Hey, Lucille. How come you're in here and Dale is out in the hall?"

  "Hello, Miss Parrish." Lucille's voice dripped icicles. "That's really none of your business." She inclined her head at Tessa. "I'll give you privacy to dress."

  Mel giggled as Lucille swept out. "What did the queen vulture want?"

  Her daughter-in-law dancing on a string? Tessa struggled to corral her anger and confusion long enough to spout a coherent answer.

  Mel's gaze locked on hers. "Hoo boy, what did she say that upset you so much?" Her blue eyes shot sparks. "Should I punch her in the snooty nose?"

  Tessa straightened. "We're not six, and you don't have to fight my battles anymore. I'll set Lucille straight. And if any punching goes on, I'll wear the boxing gloves."

  Mel's brows shot into her hairline. "Wow, I've never seen you talk back to the Dragon Lady. I've never seen you threaten to get physical, either. It's about time. I don't know what the 'sweet' bank robber did that pumped up your attitude, but I like it." Giggling, she fished a bright orange garment out of the bag. "Better get dressed first, though. Courtesy of Al's Truck Stop, the only place open. I caught a waitress going off duty and she happily sold me this."

  Tessa stared at the stained dress with Al's stamped in neon green on the pocket. "I can see why." She chuckled. The sound gonged through her skull and she winced. "However, it's better than baring my assets to the world. Thank goodness the nurse at least found my shoes."

  Balanced on wobbly legs, Tessa put on the ugly uniform, wrinkling her nose at the lingering odors of cigarette smoke and stale French fries.

  The instant they stepped into the hall, Lucille swooped down on them. "The BMW is out front. During the drive home, we can plan the postponement." Her meticulously groomed brows rose a fraction. "What are you wearing?"

  Dale offered a sweet, encouraging smile. "She looks good. I'm glad to see her on her feet." He glanced at his mother and his smile slipped. "What postponement?"

  Tessa squared her shoulders. "I'm riding home with Mel." She kissed Dale on the cheek. "Don't worry, the wedding's on schedule. No delay."

  "I think it would be better for everyone if—" Lucille huffed.

  Tessa cut her off. "I'll get in touch tomorrow."

  Dale enfolded her in a gentle bear hug. "I'm glad to hear that. But we'll do whatever is best for you. Call me later if you need anything, Tessa."

  Tessa and Melody ambled to Mel's ancient red Volkswagen bug, leaving Lucille in the lobby sputtering like a defective teakettle. Mel jiggled the key into the rusty lock. "About this 'sweet' bank robber." She shot Tessa a sparkling glance. "What's his name?"

  Tessa wrenched open the squeaky door and swept a crumpled Taco Man bag off the duct-taped seat before she settled in. "I have no idea, and could care less."

  After all, sometimes a little white lie for the benefit of everyone wasn't that terrible. Was it?

  The next morning, Tessa sat in a bleak room at the Riverside police station scrutinizing mug shots. She closed the third book and pushed the heavy volume across the table to the redheaded police officer who had popped in to check on her progress. "Still no luck."

  "Okay. I'll get more books and bring you some coffee."

  As the officer left, she rested her tender head in her hand. She doubted Gabe's picture would show up in any mug books. In spite of the robbery and kidnapping, his protective, considerate behavior wasn't consistent with a criminal's. Who knew? In any cas
e, she wasn't about to let him hold her against her will, especially without an explanation.

  The door opened and a huge, dark-suited man the size of a soda machine slipped inside. He flashed a gold badge. "Gregson, FBI." He slid his hulking form into the seat across from her and bobbed his head in a curt nod. "We're taking over this case."

  The man's flat, hooded gaze locked on hers. A chill crawled over her and instant dislike prickled across her scalp.

  Gregson pulled a pen and small black notebook from inside his jacket pocket. "Have you given your statement?"

  She shook her head. "They're short handed. The flu epidemic that's going around. They asked me to look at mug shots first."

  His nearly black eyes narrowed into slits, the reptilian gaze of a snake hypnotizing its prey. "So, you can identify him?"

  Her instincts screamed mistrust. An intense desire to protect Gabe from this predator rose within her and she straightened in her chair. "No. He had on a ski mask."

  His bushy black brows furrowed. "The entire six hours?"

  She stared into those malignant eyes and lied. "Yes."

  "Then why are you looking at mug shots?"

  "I tried to tell them." She shrugged. "They're keeping me busy until they can get to me, I guess."

  "What about his voice? Can you describe it?"

  Every nuance of Gabe's warm, silky drawl burned in her memory. "Just a man's voice, nothing special."

  "Do you know where he held you? Could you find it again?"

  "It was dark. I stumbled onto the highway by sheer luck."

  "Did he have the bags with him?" Though Gregson's tone remained level, he leaned forward, betraying his interest.

  Goose bumps crawled over her skin. Something was very wrong. "I have no idea."

  He steepled his thick fingers and stared at her over them. "You're not being very cooperative."

  She managed another casual shrug. "I can't tell you what I don't know."

  "A teller went home sick that day and you took over the vault." His eyes glittered as coldly as black ice. "Did you open the shipment before the perpetrator arrived on the scene?"

  How did he know that? This had to be about the misplaced payroll checks. But why? And in order to know about the checks, he had to be involved. Her nerves thrummed on a surge of adrenaline. The bags had been sealed before she got them, and afterward, no one had seen the contents except Gabe. But this man was no friend of Gabe's; she knew that as well as her own name. "I didn't have a chance."

  His fleshy lips compressed into a cruel line. "Stop the games. Your vault teller confirmed you counted the shipment. What was in the bags?"

  He'd obviously done his homework. She swallowed down her rising unease and managed a dry chuckle. "Money, of course."

  With surprising speed for a man his size, Gregson surged to his feet. He stalked over and stood behind her chair, silent and unmoving. She could feel his cold-blooded gaze drilling into the back of her head, and she clutched the edge of the table.

  "Time for a private discussion." He gripped her arm and jerked her up. A gun barrel stabbed into her ribs. "We're leaving, without a fuss. There's a silencer on this piece, I'll drop you and disappear before anybody knows what happened. One squeak and you're dead, understand?"

  Numb with disbelief and fear, she nodded.

  The giant yanked her to the doorway, and peered out. She fought to control her breathing. Surely he wouldn't be able to abduct her from the police station! Someone would notice. Especially if she made a help-me face.

  "Don't even think about trying to attract attention," he said as if he'd read her mind. "I have a buddy who works here. He tipped me off to your presence, and he'll make sure nobody sees us."

  So much for someone noticing and coming to her rescue. Time to switch to Plan B. Problem was, what was Plan B? Her palms grew damp and her heart raced as Gregson hustled her down the deserted corridor and out the back. She needed a plan!

  Outside, a motorcycle cop lounged on his bike with a paper cup of coffee, his white helmet and sunglasses reflecting the bright sun. Gregson muttered an obscenity. "The coast was supposed to be clear." He rammed the gun tighter into her ribs, and a sharp ache pierced her side. "Smile and walk," he growled into her ear. "If you involve the cop, I'll kill him."

  With a frozen grimace pasted on her face, she managed to stay upright and totter what felt like miles to a black van. Gregson opened the passenger door, and the dark interior loomed in front of her. Think! Maybe she could convince him to let her drive. A low-speed crash might allow her to escape.

  "Sir," the cop called. "Your taillight is broken."

  Tessa's heart gave a wild leap. She'd know that silky voice anywhere! Then her throat constricted. Gregson had said he wouldn't hesitate to kill, and she believed him.

  Gregson jerked to a stop. "Not a word," he threatened. He slid the gun into his jacket pocket, keeping his hand on it as they turned around.

  Gabe sauntered toward them. Dressed in the tight navy uniform, tall black boots, helmet and sunglasses, his lean, muscular body emanated a barely leashed power. Danger hummed under his graceful movements and careless smile. She slanted a glance at Gregson, but he didn't seem to notice anything amiss. Then again, the behemoth holding her captive had a loaded gun in his hand and Gabe's pistol was securely strapped to his side.

  "Probably vandals." Gabe gestured. "Better take a look."

  She had to tell him about the gun!

  "Yeah." Gregson reluctantly lumbered toward the rear of the van.

  Tessa opened her mouth to speak.

  Gabe lowered his sunglasses a fraction and his eyes flashed a warning before he pushed the glasses back.

  She snapped her mouth shut.

  As Gregson rounded the back bumper, Gabe's arm shot out. With a bone-crunching thud, his fist smashed into the hulk's nose. Before the other man could react, Gabe grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and slammed his head into the van. Gregson crumpled to the asphalt like a deflated beach ball.

  Her rescuer flashed a sardonic grin before he grabbed her arm and hustled her toward the motorcycle. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Houdini." They reached the bike and he swung a long, muscled leg over the seat. "Hike up that skirt and hop aboard."

  As she bunched the winter-white skirt of her suit up her thighs, Gabe slid the sunglasses down his nose and his verdant gaze grew warm and smoky. "I ought to arrest you." He shook his head. "It's definitely a crime to hide those legs under a granny skirt, sweetheart."

  Her stomach flip-flopped at the expression in his eyes. Hunger? No, impossible. He must be joking again. She climbed on behind him and flung her arms around his waist. The machine roared to life between her legs. The roar grew deafening and the bike sped out of the parking lot. "Are you a cop or a criminal?" she shouted over the throaty growl of the engine.

  His broad back shook with laughter. "Well, honey," he tossed over his shoulder. "I guess that depends on who you ask."

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Tessa clung to Gabe as the scenery flew by in a blur. For the second time in three days, she'd been stolen away by this green-eyed pirate.

  She hugged his waist, her face pressed against him. Heat from his broad back radiated through the dark blue uniform and warmed her breasts, making them tingle. The bike tipped to the left and her locked hands convulsed.

  He shifted. "Leave me a little breathing room, would you?"

  "Sorry," she mumbled, loosening her stranglehold a fraction. His hips were wedged closely between her spread legs, his hard thighs pressed against hers. Belated awareness of their intimate position dawned and embarrassment washed over her.

  He squeezed her clenched fists reassuringly. "Trust me, honey. I'm not going to let you fall."

  Twenty wild, hair-raising minutes later, Gabe leaned to the right, and the bike shot down the airport exit. He pulled up to a helipad and killed the engine. The motor spat out a metallic ping. He jumped off, offerin
g his hand. "Watch the hot muffler."

  "What are you up to now?" she accused.

  He grinned, deepening the cleft in his chin. "We're going for a helicopter ride."

  She gripped the motorcycle seat. "I'm not going anywhere."

  Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. His tanned biceps bunched under the short sleeves of the navy-blue uniform. "You are boarding this chopper. Either on your own, or with help."

  "Try it." Her gaze swept over his square, set jaw and glittering eyes. "I'm not getting aboard without a darned good reason. I'm through being grabbed by strange men and ordered around—you included."

  His grin disappeared. "I tried to warn you."

  She flipped her tangled curls over her shoulder. "You robbed my bank and kidnapped me, and I'm supposed to take your word for it? How did you know where I was and that I was in trouble, by the way?"

  "Mr. No-Neck will wake up and come looking for us soon. You want to hang around and wait?" She regarded him silently, and he sighed. "Your life is in danger. You'll get an explanation after you plant your cute little six in the chopper. No time to waste."

  She studied the self-assured man in front of her. Strangely, her instincts assured her she could trust him. Hopefully, they were right. He hadn't hurt her before, and had just rescued her from what promised to be an ugly fate. She sure as certain didn't want another encounter with the Incredible Hulk. Especially since he'd be waking up with the mother of all headaches. "I'm warning you, you better have an airtight story, or I'll shove you out in midair."

  Gabe's grin bounced back. "In that case, I hope you have a pilot's license." He opened the door with a sweeping gesture and a bow. "All aboard."

  She settled into the padded ivory seat. He leaned across to fasten her seat belt, and his fresh, outdoorsy scent teased her senses. His face a mere breath away, he placed a pair of miked headphones over her ears. He gently touched her forehead, and his eyes narrowed with concern. "What happened?"

  She gazed into the lush, rain-forest depths of his eyes, inches from hers. Her heart stuttered, and her palms grew damp. Probably a delayed reaction to the close call with Gregson. She gulped. "I bumped my head on a tree."