WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING

by Debra Webb

  “I can tell you who really ruined that sale of the virus in Oberammergau,” Thomas offered.

  Isely jerked his chin toward Holt. “He has already told me.”

  Holt sensed defeat closing in around them. “I lied.”

  Isely crossed the room and shot him with the Taser again. “I know that! And by your omission, I have found the truth.”

  “If you let them walk out of here alive, I’ll answer any question,” Thomas offered with admirable calm.

  Holt struggled to breathe. Thomas couldn’t roll over like this. “Not for me,” he challenged.

  “Oh, is there honor among liars and thieves after all?” Isely’s bitter laughter clanged against the metal walls of their prison. “Not in my experience. No matter. I have a better surprise. Load her up,” he shouted.

  The door opened and Thor pushed Cecelia, hands bound and feet chained, into the open doorway. “We’re going far away now,” Isely promised. “And there is nothing either of you can do except enjoy the ride.”

  Holt flexed and kicked, but Isely fired the Taser again. His mind drifted away from the pain and he blacked out with Thomas’s fury and Cecelia’s tears ringing in his ears.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The boat rocked gently under Cecelia as the yacht motored down the Potomac toward Chesapeake Bay. She was cuffed to a door in the engine room, and the sound and fumes were making her dizzy.

  Isely crouched beside her, flipping through files on her tablet. Jo had come up with the plan. A Specialist, the burly man who’d tried to show her some ID before she got into that taxi, had located the car where Cecelia and Emmett had left their things. They had loaded the necessary notes and fake formulas on her tablet. Everything Cecelia needed to make Isely believe that her own husband had stolen the formula from the biologist he’d scarcely known other than on paper.

  Cecelia prayed it would work long enough for help to get to them. As soon as she’d told Isely where the formula was, he’d sent two of his men to retrieve her tablet. Mission Recovery was watching the car. Hopefully backup was able to follow the goons here.

  Isely was too smart to wait around for the tablet. He’d loaded them onboard his yacht and headed out to sea, hoping to reach international waters before he was intercepted. They were barely out of port when his goons had arrived with the tablet Cecelia had claimed was her husband’s.

  Now, if only Isely bought the credibility of the formula.

  “I thank you, dear,” Isely said as he studied the photos and diagrams. He gave a pleased nod and closed the device. He handed the tablet to one of his men. “Lock this in my estate room.”

  The man hurried to do his bidding. To the other man, he asked, “Is everything ready?”

  A nod gave him the answer he wanted.

  “Then we go.” He unhooked Cecelia’s cuffs and hauled her to her feet.

  “You’re a monster,” she said as Isely pushed her up the narrow stairs toward the stern of the boat. “That formula should stay buried.” Didn’t take much to make her indignation sound real.

  “So a few million people die. A vaccination will be discovered.” The bastard shrugged. “This world is overdue for a cleansing.”

  She gasped when she saw Emmett and Thomas on their knees at the edge of the deck. Two more of Isely’s crew stood behind them. Isely removed the chain at her feet and then her handcuffs.

  “You can help with that effort, starting today.”

  “What?”

  He handed her a gun and she immediately aimed it at him. “Good riddance.”

  “Now, now.” He smiled at her. “You can’t shoot me, my dear. My men will kill yours and then you. Everyone loses.”

  Her hands trembled. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because it needs to be done,” he barked. “I’ve read the reports, spoken with the survivors. I know how my father suffered. Now your family will suffer.”

  “I gave you what you wanted,” she cried, her heart pounding for real. Where the hell was backup? They had to be close.

  “You’re a woman. You weren’t raised to know how men conduct their business. This is something you cannot possibly understand.”

  Her finger twitched on the trigger at the insult, but this wasn’t about her. This was about inflicting lasting pain. Isely wanted her brother to suffer a loss as deep as he’d suffered. She and Emmett were merely a means to that end. It was obvious to her he intended to make this confrontation very personal and agonizing for Thomas, and then he would kill her anyway.

  “Call off your men. Stop this nonsense.”

  “You lovely, sentimental woman.” Isely threw back his head and laughed. “The time for begging has passed.” In three quick strides he was beside her. “Remember our previous meeting. Have you made a final decision? Who survives? The clock is ticking, Mrs. Manning.”

  His taunting snapped her out of the red haze blurring her vision. She wasn’t Mrs. Manning anymore. Those days were long gone. She was the woman who loved her brother with all her heart and Emmett Holt just as much.

  “Come now. The final decision can’t be that difficult. You only have to shoot one. Your brother or your lover?” He smiled patronizingly at her.

  “Either way, you won’t let me live.”

  “Not true. Someone must explain the mess to the authorities. It won’t be me.” His smile evaporated and all of his slick charm dissolved into so much cold hatred. “Someone must bear the consequences and someone must take the blame.”

  “I’ll only tell the truth,” she said, keeping her gun trained on Isely.

  “Oh, but the truth is nothing more than smoke and fog without the right evidence.”

  And according to what Emmett had been feeding him, Isely believed the evidence condemned the man she loved, destroyed her brother’s reputation and exposed the entire Mission Recovery team to what would surely be a media frenzy.

  She looked at Emmett and knew what he wanted her to do: get out alive, with or without him. Worse, she knew what he expected her to do: walk away from his corpse.

  Well, if the past forty-eight hours had taught her anything, it was the utter folly of expectations.

  Two days ago his doubt in her fortitude might have stung her pride; now she understood the value of being underestimated, though they would damn sure have a long talk about the importance of sharing honest feelings when this was over.

  “Choose, Mrs. Manning....”

  Ignoring Isely’s continued gloating, she looked to her brother and said a prayer that he could somehow give her a sign as to what she should do.

  “Brother or lover,” Isely prompted with that faint urbane European accent. “It is a difficult choice.”

  “Lia, you know what to do,” Thomas said quietly.

  She looked into his eyes for a long moment and she realized he was right. She did know what to do.

  The boat rocked under her feet. Couldn’t they have done this on land and increased her odds of success?

  “Not a tough choice at all,” she said to Isely, pulling the trigger as she spoke and firing at her brother. He toppled over.

  In their shock, the remaining men gaped while she sent another bullet into the knee of the man holding a gun on Emmett.

  The man went down with a violent scream. The boat rocked and Cecelia stumbled backward, a stupid grin splitting her face as she watched Emmett launch himself at Isely.

  Her brother quickly subdued and cuffed Isely’s other lieutenant.

  Cecelia took aim at the fight but couldn’t get a clear shot, so she ran for the cockpit, holding the man at the controls at gunpoint until Thomas told her to do otherwise. With his help, they cuffed the man at the wheel and she reduced speed until they were idling.

  “Sorry I shot you.” She’d barely grazed his shoulder, but he’
d toppled over before anyone realized she hadn’t gotten him right in the heart.

  “That’s what you were supposed to do.” He pulled her into a fast hug. “And you did good.”

  “Thomas!”

  They both smiled at the familiar voice of Thomas’s wife, Jo.

  “I think that’s my cue,” Thomas said.

  They both hurried to the deck. Specialists were securing all the bad guys. Jo was hugging Thomas. Cecelia searched through the crowd for Emmett.

  “Are you injured, ma’am?” the man who’d tried to help her at the National Mall asked.

  Cecelia shook her head, not trusting her voice, trying her best not to burst into tears. It was over. It was really over. She looked around to see Emmett and Thomas talking quietly off to the side.

  When the two men she loved most shook hands, she knew it was really over.

  Chapter Twenty

  Holt ached from head to toe, but nothing was sweeter than having Cecelia in his arms. He wanted to spin her around, but opted for pulling her into his lap while they motored back up the river. He couldn’t deny that having Specialist Grant at the control of Isely’s yacht gave him immense pleasure. The whole lot, Isely and his goons, were secured and under watch in the engine room.

  “Your brother’s going to punch me as soon as you’re out of range. He’s already warned me that he intended to beat the hell out of me. I think in all the excitement he just forgot. Or maybe being shot by his own sister has distracted him.”

  “Funny,” she groused. “I think Thomas is too pleased with how things turned out to hold any grudges.”

  “Hope so.” So far it seemed he still had a job. He tipped his head back and let the cool air wash over them for a moment. “You lied to me,” he said, smiling with open admiration. “Thomas was already in place and backup was en route.”

  “I could lie to anyone,” she replied. “I learned from the best. Besides, you were incapacitated.”

  “Hmm,” he groaned.

  “Hmm?”

  “If you’re so good at the lies, how will I know what’s true?”

  She walked her fingers up the torn front of his shirt, then fisted her hand in the fabric, pulling herself close for another hot, hard kiss.

  “That is true,” she said. “I never expected to love again, not like this. Thank you.”

  He tugged at her ponytail and gently tipped her head back so he could kiss the spot under her jaw that made her shiver. “I love you, too.”

  He smiled against her skin as her hands clutched at his shirt. “Say it again,” she whispered.

  He obliged, knew he always would where she was concerned. Her arms were chilled, so he hugged her closer. “You were magnificent today.”

  Her proud grin sliced right through his heart.

  “Thanks. You did well yourself.”

  He shrugged. “CIA will be lucky to have you.”

  “If what happened here had actually ‘happened’—” she used air quotes “—you’d be right.”

  “What’re you saying?” He wasn’t sure he could trust the hope that wanted to come to life.

  “I’m looking at all of my options. Word is you’re a hero. Got any pull at your place?”

  “The boss might owe me a favor,” he teased. He rubbed his nose against hers. “After he knocks me out. Still, I saved his sister.”

  She scoffed and pushed at his chest. “She saved herself.”

  “And me. You definitely saved me.” He turned her in his arms and drew her back against his chest while they watched the shoreline of Alexandria approaching. “Is that my boat?” he asked as they neared the marina.

  “I made a call,” she said, “while you were fighting the sedative. We can cast off whenever you’re ready.”

  “We?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  She sounded nervous, but he didn’t think it could possibly compare to the jitters he was fighting. He turned her around, made her look into his eyes so she would see the truth.

  No matter what it cost him, he had to be completely truthful with her. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. My first and only Christmas wish. Say you’ll marry me, Cecelia.”

  “Oh, yes! I will definitely marry you.”

  Before he could kiss her, they had moored the yacht and were calling for everyone to report and clear the premises.

  As he guided Cecelia off the vessel, Thomas Casey stopped him.

  Before Holt could react, Thomas gave him a soft cuff to the jaw. “I don’t know what you two have in mind for Christmas, but Jo and I would be happy to have you over for the holiday.”

  “I’m afraid we have plans,” Cecelia piped up. “We’re setting sail right now and wherever we end up on Christmas, we’re going ashore and getting married.”

  Thomas frowned. Jo rushed up just then. “How romantic.” She slugged her husband on the shoulder. “Isn’t that romantic, honey?”

  Thomas nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Absolutely. What about Casey?” He blinked, clearly startled.

  “I’ll send pics!” Cecelia wrapped her arm around Holt’s. “We can all celebrate when we get back.”

  As they parted ways with the others, Holt drew her close and kissed her silky hair. “Is that really what you want to do? We can do this any way you want.”

  “This is perfect.” She turned her face up to his. “I can’t imagine celebrating Christmas any better way than saying ‘I do’ to the man I love.”

  He grinned. “Merry Christmas to me.”

  He kissed his bride to be, and less than an hour later they were making love on his boat with nothing but time and the sea in front of them.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS AT CARDWELL RANCH by B.J. Daniels.

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  Chapter One

  Huge snowflakes drifted down out of a midnight-blue winter sky. Tanner “Tag” Cardwell stopped to turn his face up to the falling snow. It had been so long since he’d been anywhere that it snowed like this.

  Christmas lights twinkled in all the windows of the businesses of Big Sky’s Meadow Village, and he could hear “White Christmas” playing in one of the ski shops.

  But it was a different kind of music that called to him tonight as he walked through the snow to the Canyon Bar.

  Shoving open the door, he felt a wave of warmth hit him, along with the smell of beer and the familiar sound of country music.

  He smiled as the band broke into an old country-and-western song, one he’d learned at his father’s knee. Tag let the door close behind him on the winter night and shook snow from his new ski jacket as he looked around. He’d had to buy the coat because for the past twenty-one years, he’d been living down South.

  Friday night just days from Christmas in Big Sky, Montana, the bar was packed with a mix of locals, skiers, snowmobilers and cowboys. There’d be a fight for sure before the night was over. He planned to be long gone before then, though.

  His gaze returned to the raised platform where the band, Canyon Cowboy
s, was playing. He played a little guitar himself, but he’d never been as good as his father, he thought as he watched Harlan Cardwell pick and strum to the music. His uncle, Angus Cardwell, was no slouch, either.

  Tag had always loved listening to them play together when he was a kid. Music was in their blood. That and bars. As a kid, he’d fallen asleep many weekend nights in a bar in this canyon listening to his father play guitar. It was one of the reasons his mother had gathered up her five sons, divorced Harlan and taken her brood off to Texas to be raised in the Lone Star State.

  Tag and his brothers had been angry with their dad for not fighting for them. As they’d gotten older, they’d realized their mother had done them a favor. Harlan knew nothing about raising kids. He was an easygoing cowboy who only came alive when you handed him a guitar—or a beer.

  Still, as Tag watched his father launch into another song, he realized how much he’d missed him—and Montana. Had Harlan missed him, as well? Doubtful, Tag thought, remembering the reception he’d gotten when he’d knocked at his father’s cabin door this morning.

  “Tag?”

  “Surprise.”

  “What are you doing here?” his father had asked, moving a little to block his view of the interior of the cabin.

  “It’s Christmas. I wanted to spend it with you.”

  Harlan couldn’t have looked any more shocked by that—or upset.

  Tag realized that surprising his father had been a mistake. “If this is a bad time...”

  His father quickly shook his head, still blocking the door, though. “No, it’s just that...well, you know, the cabin is a mess. If you give me a little while...”

  Tag peered past him and lowered his voice. “If you have someone staying here—”