WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING

by Debra Webb

  She sighed. “We’ve had enough togetherness for one season. I need a change of scenery.”

  “To get ready for your next phase.”

  She didn’t like the implication behind that comment. He wasn’t a phase to her. Although what else could he conclude after she’d said what she had about not loving anyone again?

  “It’s easier my way,” he said. “No family. No plans. No problems. I’m spending the holiday on my boat.”

  “Sailing away into the sunset?” a male voice asked.

  Cecelia jumped at the voice, even as she watched Isely sit down at the table with Emmett. “Sounds positively romantic. At least it will be when the women realize you are wealthy.”

  “Can’t wait,” Emmett said.

  Isely looked at his jaw, still swollen from the fight in the hotel. “Did you run into something?”

  “I tripped on a box of hammers.”

  “How unfortunate. Where is my new friend?” He glanced around. “She is supposed to be here, no?”

  “Safe. I’m happy to make the introduction if you’ll tell me when and where.”

  “Mr. Holt, it is a cold day. I would like to know that my investments have not been in vain. I fear you are playing games with me now, and I have no patience for games, my friend.”

  “I’ve delivered everything you’ve asked for,” Emmett ground out between clenched teeth.

  Cecelia swore. If this conversation wound up in the wrong hands, it was just more evidence on the growing heap against him. It was as if he wanted every agent to swarm in and bury him for life. He was better than this, but the breadcrumbs he’d left would only help if someone cared enough to go looking. At this point, she was his last chance.

  She couldn’t make a mistake.

  “And I have shown the agreed-upon appreciation,” Isely said. “You have not cooperated with your new team. This is not a good sign.”

  “We had an understanding. I don’t answer to your team.”

  Isely sighed. “You caused many injuries.”

  “You should have told me directly about a change in plans.”

  “I’m telling you now.” Isely looked around the park once more. “I think you have developed an affection for the woman.”

  “She’s business. You assured me you wouldn’t harm her.”

  “And I will not. But you, I think, is another matter altogether.”

  Cecelia’s lips tightened to prevent telling the monster he wasn’t harming a hair on Emmett’s head while she still had breath.

  “Then why bother with any of the rest of it?” Emmett demanded. “I’ve done all you ask. When guests from last night’s gala start dying, you’ll have won.”

  “That was for my own entertainment,” the bastard said with a laugh. “Besides, I’ve heard no reports of this. Perhaps you’ve double-crossed me.”

  “What is it you want me to do, Isely?”

  “Bring me the woman. She is useful in other ways. More useful than you.”

  Through the binoculars, Cecelia saw the other man approach, but her warning to Emmett came half a second too late. The man appeared to slap Emmett on the side of the neck. Emmett jerked. Was there something in his hand? Fear tightened around her heart. She watched the shock on his face and knew she was right. Tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to race to his side but he had made her swear she wouldn’t move until he said the word.

  Damn him! What was she supposed to do?

  “Deliver her to this warehouse and you’ll have the antidote in plenty of time to enjoy the wealth I showered upon you.”

  Antidote? Had he poisoned Emmett? Oh, dear God! She watched the monster tuck a card into Emmett’s pocket.

  “What did you give me?” Emmett demanded, his words slurred.

  “Sometimes the old ways are better.” Isely leaned close. “Don’t worry. It is not contagious. Keep cooperating, Holt, and all will be well.”

  She watched in horror as Emmett’s head lolled to the side. From this distance she couldn’t shoot the bastard who’d done this. She couldn’t reach him in time if she rushed toward them... She needed help.

  Isely leaned over Emmett and his voice sounded in her ear. Cultured and slick, it made her want to take a shower. “Are you listening, Mrs. Manning? I do believe I might have given your lover too much. But perhaps he will survive until you get him to the warehouse for the antidote. The address is on the card in his pocket.”

  She wished she could put a bullet straight through his brain, to hell with his endgame.

  Cecelia clenched her teeth and held her scathing reply as well as her position until Isely walked away. It required a measure of strength she didn’t know she still possessed.

  “Faster,” she muttered, hoping she could hasten his departure by sheer force of will. If she bolted to Emmett’s side too quickly, Isely would have them both in a snare.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  As soon as Isely and his cohort were long gone, Cecelia rushed to Emmett.

  “Hang on,” he mumbled, lurching to his feet. “I’m coming to you.”

  “I’m here,” she assured him as she tucked herself under his sagging weight. “What did he give you?” She practically dragged him toward the car. It was hardly a block away and it felt like miles.

  “I was hoping you’d know,” he slurred. “...says there’s an antidote.”

  “I heard. Let’s go get it.”

  “No. He’ll make me hurt you.”

  “Too late,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “I’m already hurt, Emmett.” She turned her face up to his face. “Just because you’re hurting.”

  “Forget about me. Call the authorities.” His words were scarcely intelligible now. “You deserve better.”

  “You’re right.” She deserved a man who treated her as an equal. As he’d done from the start. A man who trusted her to watch his back while he tried to keep her safe from a criminal like Isely. She deserved a man who accepted his personal worth and shouldered her darkest secret. “When this is over and you’re feeling better, we’ll hammer out new terms.”

  He didn’t say anything. He’d passed out.

  Cecelia waved down a taxi and got him into the back seat while explaining her friend had drunk too much. No way she could get him all the way to where they had parked the car. She dug the card from his pocket and checked the address, then provided it to the driver. She couldn’t believe it had come down to this. Her against an international crime boss, the lives of two men she loved on the line.

  Her whole body shook as she moved around to the other side of the car. She had to keep it together. Isely wanted Thomas to suffer. He had a flair for the dramatic, and based on what she’d learned from Emmett, he had impeccable timing. A dead man would have less impact on a man like her brother than a dying friend. This was just another part of the plan.

  Isely would know that, would try to use that to rip Mission Recovery apart.

  Well, he was in for a shock.

  If Isely said the antidote was at the warehouse, that’s where she had to go. And she’d arrive just as he expected: a weepy, worried mess. “Just like you taught me,” she whispered to herself as she climbed in next to Emmett. “Give them what they need to see.”

  Her vision blurred and she realized she was crying. She swiped away tears, oddly relieved that she still had that depth of emotion inside her.

  As she reached to close her door, a male voice interrupted. “Need a hand?”

  She gave a startled cry when the square face of the burly security guard from the gala filled her window. “Go!” she shouted to the taxi driver.

  “Wait.” He flashed a badge. Real or fake, she didn’t care at this point.

  The taxi rushed away. She didn’t have time to e
xamine credentials or to verify a story. A plan was coming together in her mind. While it was dicey, it was hers, and she knew she could trust the players.

  All she had to do was get word to them. Thomas would never question her need for help. He might not trust Emmett but he would do what needed to be done.

  Failure wasn’t an option.

  She made the necessary call to Jo, Thomas’s wife, instead of calling him. Jo promised to take care of everything. She said Thomas was already on it. Cecelia didn’t know what that meant, but she was relieved to hear it. Thank God. She dragged a bottle of water from her bag and gave Emmett’s shoulder a shove. “Come on, wake up.”

  His eyelids fluttered. “Where are we?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Drink this.”

  He shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  “Cooperate, Emmett.” There wasn’t much she could do without knowing the exact toxin in his system, but with something this fast acting, she knew his kidneys would need the help.

  And who knew what dangers waited. She couldn’t think about that or she’d freeze up. One step at a time.

  Beside her Emmett muttered, but he kept sipping the water when prompted. Maybe Isely had done her a favor by incapacitating Emmett; now she wouldn’t have to lie or hide what she was doing. In his condition he’d never remember her moves this afternoon—assuming they both survived Isely’s final showdown.

  She closed her eyes, thinking of the tropical paradise where she intended to spend Christmas day. They would all get through this.

  Steadier, she called the marina and used her considerable influence as Mrs. Manning to arrange for Emmett’s boat to be prepped, launched and moved around to the launch on the river.

  A phone in his pocket rang and she knew the blocked number could only be Isely.

  “Hello?”

  “Ah, Mrs. Manning. It seems you’ve drifted off course.”

  “I—I know,” she said, letting him hear her fear. Not of him or his petty plots, but that she might not be able to do what she knew it would take to eliminate him. “We had some car tr-trouble. The engine was acting funny. I had to get a cab. We’re on our way.”

  “Now, now. I know this is overwhelming. Just bring him to me.”

  “We’re on our way now. I swear.”

  “Good. Your brother is getting impatient.”

  “Thomas is with you?” Now she was panicked. Did Jo not know he’d been captured?

  “What can I say? He insisted on crashing our party.”

  “Let me talk with him. Please?”

  “Oh, we’ll have plenty of time to chat in person when you arrive, Mrs. Manning.”

  The line went dead and Cecelia muttered a curse she’d learned from Emmett. The cab driver glanced at her in his rearview mirror. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She shoved the burner phone deep into the seat cushion. It was only marginally better than tossing it out the window. No sense adding littering to the charges looming against Emmett. And her.

  Beside her, Emmett’s body shook with tremors.

  Fear closed her throat. “Hang in there. It’s almost over.”

  “Drop me off and go,” he said, surprisingly coherent and with less slurring.

  Was that good or bad?

  “Absolutely not. I’m your backup.”

  “I can handle this.”

  “I believe you.” No point arguing with a professional—particularly a man.

  “Then let me do it alone.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she argued. “Glory hound. I’m going in with you.”

  Emmett shifted, reaching for her face. She held his palm to her cheek when he didn’t have the strength. This would not be their last moment. She refused to accept a future that didn’t include him.

  “Cecelia,” he rasped. “Don’t—”

  “Shh,” she interrupted, taking the water bottle. “Rest while you can.”

  His eyes drifted shut once more and Cecelia launched into a string of silent prayers. A few pleas for Emmett and Thomas mixed in, but what she begged for most was the courage to see this through.

  * * *

  Alexandria warehouse, 6:32 p.m.

  HOLT WISHED HE’D been strong enough to shake off Cecelia when she’d refused to leave his side as they exited the cab at the warehouse. He wished he’d found a way to shield her from all of this.

  Most of all he wished he’d told her he loved her when he’d had the chance. Falling in love hadn’t been on the agenda for this op, but it had happened anyway. Ironic to come to terms with that now, when he was about to die.

  His wrists burned where the cuffs bit into his skin, and the ache in his shoulders was too awful to contemplate. He’d been cuffed to a pipe above his head and the toe of his boot scraped the floor, but not enough to relieve the strain of his body weight.

  Whatever Isely had given him was wearing off, but he didn’t recall being dosed with an antidote.

  “Wake up,” a male voice hissed from nearby.

  “Director Casey?” Holt tried to clear his dry throat. “That you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cecelia?”

  “I’m certain she’s here...just not with us.”

  Holt’s heart plummeted. What freakish use did Isely have planned for her? She didn’t have what he was looking for. “Told her to go.”

  “Isely would have dragged her back. Whatever his endgame, she was part of it, I think before you were even involved. He’s been plotting this revenge for years.”

  Holt wasn’t so sure. She’d shown some interesting talents over the past days. Of all the things he’d done to protect Mission Recovery, he couldn’t let the director believe he would have sacrificed Cecelia. “Never would’ve hurt her. You...must know...that.”

  “Shut up. Save your strength.”

  “What’d they give me?”

  “A sedative, if it’s what they gave me. Doesn’t really matter. Keep breathing until we can find a way out of here.”

  “Never betrayed you.” There were other things he should probably tell the director, but now wasn’t exactly the time.

  “You damn well blurred some lines,” Thomas muttered.

  If Thomas knew that, then he knew exactly what Holt had done. A glimmer of something close to hope flared in his chest. “If we get out of here, I’ll get glasses,” Holt joked despite the bleak circumstances.

  “If we all get out of here, I’m going to beat the hell out of you and then I’ll pat you on the back for getting that bastard.”

  “Anything.” Anything but a resignation. He’d been ready to defect, to die if necessary to protect Thomas and Mission Recovery, until he’d met Cecelia. She made him want more than the solitary existence he’d been living long before going undercover to stop Isely. Two days with her and he believed in dreams again. With her.

  Even if she couldn’t feel as much as he did, he wanted her. Whatever she could give.

  He peered up at his cuffed wrists. There had to be a way to get out of this.

  A high-pitched cry ripped through the thin corrugated-metal walls, derailing his thoughts.

  Holt jerked against his restraints even as Thomas ordered him to calm down.

  “He’s testing us.”

  “It’s not her fight,” Holt growled. He was done playing opossum. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he growled in frustration. There was no foothold he could find, no weakness he could exploit.

  “Be still. You’re going to need your strength when it’ll actually do some good.”

  “Only when I’m dead.”

  The door opened and Holt squinted against the bright light. “You should listen to your boss,” Isely said, stepping into the room.

  Holt’s vi
sion was clear enough to see Thomas attached to a chair in the corner.

  “Give it up. You won’t get away with this,” Holt warned.

  “Just as I suspected.” Isely stayed just out of reach of Holt’s legs. “You were too weak to choose the right side.”

  “It’s my underdog complex,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let the woman go.”

  “But she is the whole reason we are here. Have you learned nothing through our talks?”

  “Only that you’re an—”

  “Ah, yes. Vulgarity suits you well, Mr. Holt. Much better than a tuxedo, or the fine lifestyle my payoffs would have funded.”

  “Might want to invest your money in a better chemist, Isely. That dose of poison seems to have worn off.” He kept Isely distracted, hoping to give Thomas an opening. They had to get Cecelia out of here.

  Isely revealed a Taser and Holt jerked with the force of the electricity coursing through his body. He should have seen that coming. But it’d be worth it when Thomas made his move. Come on, man, he urged silently. I’m waiting for the big bad Thomas Casey to rescue me.

  “Aren’t you the prince of deception?” Isely taunted. “Or is it thieves? It’s no concern of mine. I only gave you enough sedative to cause panic and make the woman cooperate.”

  Holt swore. His instincts had warned him she’d been holding back, but just how much? What information could a CIA admin have that Isely needed?

  “She cares for you,” Isely said, zapping him again. “Pathetic, but I found it quite useful. I have everything I need now. Except the ending to this story.”

  “Enough,” Thomas shouted.

  They both knew that when Isely was done posturing he’d kill all three of them. Whatever he thought Cecelia had given him, it would never save them.

  “Willing to talk at last, Director Casey?”

  “Your father built his business and reputation on intelligence, not cruelty.”

  “You weren’t his son,” Isely said with a dreadful calm. “But your family will soon know the pain and bitterness of defeat.”

  “You’ve kidnapped three American citizens. You have to know that won’t go unanswered.”

  “Really?” Isely crossed the room to tower over Thomas. “Who will act on your behalf? Who knows to ride to your rescue? Not your government. You don’t even exist! Not your precious secret team. They think that one of you is a traitor and they don’t yet realize you are gone!”