The Storybook Groom

by Sarah Gay

  Torin pulled into the parking lot in a massive truck. The sexy smile he gave her could have melted an ice cap. He jumped out of his truck and gave her a squeeze and a sultry kiss.

  “Has it really only been two days since we relaxed on a Costa Rican beach together?” Ginny asked, pressing her thumb to her car handle to arm the alarm. She needed to shift gears back to fun and flirty girlfriend.

  “I can take my shirt off and we can lay a blanket out right here in the dirt and smooch. It would be just like we’re back at the beach.”

  “Tempting.” She fanned her face to combat the rising heat in her cheeks. “But something tells me it wouldn’t be the same with dusty winds and exhaust in the air.”

  She took his outstretched hand, allowing him to help her into his truck. She hiked her long purple gown up to her knees and hopped into Torin’s passenger seat. Her formal dress seemed a bit much, considering she had to park her car in a makeshift parking lot in rural Dallas.

  Still, she was happy to be snuggling into Torin again. The first full day away from him, pretending to drive around Dallas all day as an Uber driver, had been brutal. Not that she hated being an agent. She hated lying to Torin.

  Torin touched her arm. “You okay? You seem a million miles away.”

  “More like, four thousand miles.” She sighed. “Up for another trip?”

  “Say when.” He threw a fist in the air, causing her to laugh. “And I’m there.”

  “When,” she said with a wink.

  He slammed his breaks, causing her body to continue forward and her seatbelt to lock as he flipped the truck around.

  “I’m kidding.” She slapped his arm. “Your friend Cole would kill us if we didn’t show up. And it’s Scarlett and Demitri’s first date. We need to be there for them in case it goes south.”

  “Fine,” he teased. This time he slowed the car at an acceptable rate of deceleration before he flipped them around. “I think we need to be there for Cole and his caterer as well.”

  “His caterer?” Ginny perked up. “I have no problem eating a healthy portion of delicious food tonight.”

  “She’s a great chef. But this event is not only for us to support his program for Down Syndrome kids, it’s also going to be part of some reality show to promote awareness of his unique equestrian therapy program.”

  Ginny marveled at what great philanthropists Torin and his buddies were. “That’s amazing.”

  “Yes, except there’s this rich woman who bought him at an auction. Then finagled her way onto the reality show.”

  It probably wouldn’t be the best thing for a spy to be seen on a reality TV show, but, then again, no one would suspect her of being a spy if she did. But how does someone get bought at an auction? Ginny held up a finger. “I think you lost me.”

  “Cole likes the caterer, but he’s on this obligatory date tonight with a fame-seeking rich woman.”

  Ginny shaped her fingers like a gun and shot him with a side click of her mouth. “Gotcha. I’ll locate the caterer immediately upon entry. What’s her name?”

  He scrunched his eyebrows. “Did you say locate? And entry?”

  “Locate?” Her brain must have clicked back into agent mode when she realized she might need to emotionally protect the caterer. “I think I said look for. What was her name?”

  Torin tapped his knee, as if searching his mind for her name. Then he nodded. “Maggie.”

  “Maggie as in Margaret?” she questioned, hoping to utilize her linguistic background to profile Maggie.

  “As in Margarita.” He snapped his fingers as if he remembered more. “Margarita Suarez, but I think only her family and close friends call her Margarita.”

  “Okay.” If she had more time and a private space, she could have completed a full background check on Maggie, but the name Margarita Suarez gave Ginny a good idea of who she was about to meet.

  They pulled up to the building and parked to help Ginny out of the truck, which was a good idea if she didn’t want to flash the crowd gathered outside the modern-looking barn structure.

  She giggled as he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her out of the truck like she was a puff of cotton candy, and set her gently on the ground.

  “Thank you, handsome.”

  He kissed her fast and deep, causing her to nearly tip over from lack of oxygen to her brain.

  “Anytime, beautiful,” he said in his deep clear voice. “I’ll come find you after I park my truck.”

  Ginny shook out her arms to regulate her temperature after that kiss. She made her way through the crowd into the open-aired room. The assembly hall resembled a refurbished barn with high rafters, but unlike a barn, huge picture windows spanned its entire length.

  She scoped out the room, something she’d been trained to do. She saw no signs of danger, but it was obvious who was there to support Cole and who was there for their moment of fame.

  The room filled quickly. Ginny attributed the rapid influx of people to the rumors that circulated outside of the amazing food in the main hall. She scanned the perimeter of the room until she located a woman she believed to be Maggie. The toned woman with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes wore a red fitted dress. She stood against a far wall, eyeing guests with plates in their hands. Maggie sported a relieved, yet crestfallen, expression.

  Suddenly, Ginny experienced that sixth sense of someone watching her. Amateur. Spies didn’t search the faces of their targets. Professional intelligence officers used averted, not direct gaze to prevent their targets from experiencing that sense of being watched, preventing the possibility of compromising their mission. At least they’d sent an amateur. Whoever this was, they hadn’t had the experience of marking. Or, this person wasn’t there to take her out. Whatever his training or purpose, she’d find an opportunity to face him. Something she learned from Torin, the best defense was a good offense, but he was somewhat preferential to a good offence.

  Ginny became hypersensitive to her surroundings. She slipped through the shoulder-to-shoulder guests, advanced to the bar, and ordered she and Maggie two virgin Margaritas. She would do what she did best, play the part of a bubbly, fun friend—someone she once was. She planned to make a lasting impression on Maggie and simultaneously protect herself from her pursuant.

  She took the two drinks from the bartender and fought her way across the room to Maggie. Ginny saw something peaceful in Maggie, like she did Torin. They both lit from the inside—as if they’d never caused their consciences a day of torment. Ginny, on the other hand, constantly struggled to appease her conscience. Hopefully, all of that would change, very soon.

  “Here’s to second chances,” Maggie said to herself.

  Ginny couldn’t have said it better. They must have been on the same wavelength. “Second chances are the best.”

  Maggie blinked her eyes, obviously not expecting her personal thoughts to have been heard by anyone else.

  Ginny handed Maggie the salt-rimmed drink. “Is that what we’re toasting to, second chances?”

  “Oh.” Maggie stammered, seemingly uncomfortable with Ginny’s offer. “Thank you, but I didn’t order a drink.”

  Now to become friends. “I heard how you orchestrated this event and crafted the amazing cuisine from scratch. I thought you could use a drink.”

  Maggie’s face brightened.

  Ginny held up her glass. “It’s a virgin Margarita. I thought it fitting.” She winked and let out a light laugh. “When I ordered it, the bartender gave me a get real look and asked, ‘So you want two lemonades?’”

  Maggie’s composure relaxed, and she joined Ginny in her amusement. “I’m Maggie,” she said, extending a hand out to Ginny.

  Ginny took her hand and smiled. “Ginny.”

  By Maggie’s coy smile, she looked as if she were questioning Ginny in some way. “What brought you here tonight, Ginny?”

  Love brought her there. Ginny caught Torin’s eye and her heart fluttered as he and Demitri walked toward them.

&n
bsp; Ginny raised her eyebrows. “I think you mean who brought me here.” She pointed with her glass to the two men walking toward them. “Torin Godrey, that tall glass of sweet tea plays for the Titans. He’s from Atlanta, Georgia and knows how to treat a lady. He’s with my sister’s date, Demitri.”

  Torin gave Ginny a sultry smile that caused her to tingle all the way down to her toes. “How is everyone this evening?" he said in his clear, deep voice. He reached Ginny, placed his calming hand on her lower back, and lit her face on fire as he pressed his soft lips to her cheek.

  “Fabulous,” Maggie answered him with a look that said she approved of Ginny’s pick. “Thanks.”

  He released Ginny’s back and reached to hug Maggie in the Southern-comfort way Ginny adored. “Maggie, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Cole’s been talkin’ about you nonstop for weeks now.”

  Maggie’s cheeks flushed. “Oh really?”

  Torin clapped his hands together. “Speak of the devil.”

  Cole stood in the entrance with a stunning blonde with arms linked together like a happy couple. Ginny had a sudden urge to slap the man’s face as he posed all smiley for the flash of professional cameras while Maggie, the woman who loved him, drooped into her dress.

  Ginny noticed Maggie tilting over. She pressed her side into Maggie’s to keep her upright. Then ran her hand down Maggie’s lower arm and grabbed her cold hand. Maggie released a grateful sigh.

  Demitri turned to Ginny, apparently unaware of his buddy’s despicable actions. “Ginny, have you seen Scarlett? I dropped her at the front doors, went to park, and haven’t seen her since.”

  Ginny’s blood ran cold. Somehow, Ginny knew; Scarlett had been taken—kidnapped by the person who had marked Ginny earlier. Her heart thumped against her ribcage as her thin spy phone vibrated against her thigh. She discreetly slipped her hand through the side slit in her dress, retrieved her earpiece, and placed it in her right ear.

  The man’s voice came hurried. “If you want to see yer sister alive again, come to the place where you be sweatin’ this mornin’. Sorry to take you from yer airneál. Don’t bacach now, I have an adharcáilí here who likes yer sister. I won’t be able to keep him off her fer long.”

  Ginny spoke quietly—in an even, calm tone. “I’ll bring us a drink.”

  She needed to escape this event quickly and save Scarlett. She turned to Torin and Demitri. “I’m sure Scarlett went in search of the ladies’ room and got lost. Would you two please keep Maggie company for a minute while I run to the restroom?”

  The men nodded as she turned for the exit door and pushed her way through the crowd. She walked behind the bar, grabbed two bottles of Irish Guinness, and slipped them into her purse. Luckily, no one noticed her leave. There was too much excitement in the air that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

  Ginny ran to the side of the barn and hopped into a four-wheeler used to transport guests to and from the grassy parking lot. Before she turned the key, Torin jumped into the seat next to her.

  “What are you doing?” he said with concern.

  Ginny threw the four-wheeler into drive and pressed down the pedal, spinning gravel and dust behind them as it picked up speed.

  “I’m going to save Scarlett,” she said in a monotone voice, straining to keep her wits. “She’s been kidnapped.”

  Torin threw his head back in laughter. After a few seconds, his demeanor changed to fear. “Have you called the police?”

  Ginny grabbed Torin’s thigh and squeezed to calm herself. “If I call anyone, even my own people, they’ll kill her. That’s how this works?”

  “How what works?” he said in anger.

  She didn’t look over at him, fearing she would cave. “How being a spy works.”

  “Scarlett’s a spy?” Torin shook his head. “What kind of spy?”

  When they reached the parking lot, Ginny threw the ATV into park and jumped out. “No, Torin.” She pointed to her chest. “I’m the spy. My mother has ties to the IRA, and I thought I could protect my sister if I became a spy, but I couldn’t. I didn’t.” The tears burned her eyes, but she couldn’t allow that. She had to transform the fear and failure into passion, passion to save her sister.

  Torin’s eyes widened in horror. His mouth opened but he didn’t speak.

  Ginny pulled out her personal phone from her purse and purchased the direct flight she cancelled and reserved every day in case she found herself and Torin in a situation like this. “I sent a text to your phone of your flight to Atlanta. It’s departing in two hours.” She bit her lower lip. “I need you to be on that flight, Torin.” She swallowed back the lump rising in her throat. “Today proves that I’ve put you, your sister, and your new little niece in serious danger.”

  “What are you talking about?” He shook his head violently. “No. That’s not true.”

  She pressed her palm into his cheek and stared into his pained eyes. “Please. Do this for me. You can’t ever contact me again. And I’m going to make it easy on you.”

  Torin grabbed Ginny by the wrist as she opened her car door. “I won’t let you do this, Ginny. I’m not giving up on you and you’re not giving up on us. I’m coming with you to find Scarlett.”

  Ginny reached inside her car door, pulled out an electric shocker from under her seat, placed it to Torin’s forearm, and pressed the button. Torin yelped in pain as he hit the dirt and continued to twist and tremble. She released her thumb from the activation button.

  She swore at herself and kneeled next to him. “I’m sorry, Torin. I love you.” He protested with his eyes but was still unable to speak. She kissed his lips as one of her tears fell onto his face and rolled down his neck. “There are thousands of great girls dying to go out with you, but I won’t have you die to be with me. Go home and find someone wonderful.”

  He would hate her after he regained control of his muscles in a minute or two, making it easier to forget about her and move on. She slid into her driver’s seat and sped away, leaving the only future she ever wanted writhing in the dust. Those cretins had no idea the fury that was coming their way.

  11

  Ginny turned into the high school parking lot with her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles had turned a milky white. Her fellow agents would be someplace close, watching. She hadn’t called them; she didn’t want Scarlett’s captors arming their ammunition. And the agency had heard her conversation with the Irishman; they would respond how they would. As far as she was concerned, this was between her and that one sanctimonious man.

  Her hands trembled as she unzipped her silky lavender gown. She pulled it off her shoulders and released it, causing the dress to billow to the wet asphalt, damp and glossy from a recent five-minute downpour. She felt strong and unrestricted in the black spanks and sport’s tank top she’d worn under her dress for circumstances such as these—times where she would need to get dirty. Gowns weren’t meant to fight in, and she was in a fighting mood.

  Ginny stepped onto the grassy football field, holding both beer bottles in her left fingers. She breathed in the sweet scent of the freshly cut grass clippings that stuck to her shoes and caused her to slip with each hurried step. As she strode across the field toward the bleachers, the stadium lights flashed on, temporarily blinding her. Amateurs. They just announced themselves to an entire city block.

  She pumped out her chest and paced through the field like a lioness with her eyes on its prey. She wanted them to know she hadn’t planned on slinking around back to surprise them like they would have expected. She wanted them to know she planned on confronting them, face to face.

  Once she was off the football field, the stadium lights dimmed. The long trek up the bleachers to stadium box kept Ginny’s mind clear and her heart rate where it needed to be to fight. When she had run up those same bleachers earlier the other day with Scarlett, she had all the answers to life. Now, she had one purpose and no answers.

  She walked at a steady, even pace until
she reached the hallway to the control room. She ran down the long open hall to allow her time before the captors anticipated her. When she reached the stadium control room door, she took in a deep breath, and, as she breathed out, she envisioned a successful outcome with two men sprawled out on the floor.

  She then removed her personal phone attached next to her gun on her right thigh strap and made a video conferencing call. When the phone connected, she suctioned the phone to the bottom of her right shoe and waited for the door to open.

  She imagined the captive as a Jane Doe instead of her sister to calm her racing heart. It didn’t work. When a pasty man, close to size of a Titans’ offensive linemen, opened the door, it took her wind and challenged her nerves. No wonder no one noticed him at the ranch. He would have fit right in amongst the players.

  Ginny held out her arm to hand him the mocha colored beer. Out of her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of Scarlett strapped to a wooden folding chair. Several feet from Scarlett’s chair was a long banquet table with assault rifles and communication devices.

  He nodded and took the bottles from her. “Your gun,” he grunted, staring at her thigh.

  She winced as he licked his lips, but distraction was part of the game. She wouldn’t play the bubbly sorority girl because they already knew she was a spy, but she would play the negotiator.

  Ginny held her hands up in surrender and bent over slightly, pushing back her right leg to place the phone from the bottom of her shoe against the cement wall. “I’m going to loosen the straps,” she said slowly, “so you can take the gun and my phone, okay?”

  Another man with the same general look and build, just a little less pasty complexion and premature balding, stepped out of the shadows and pointed a gun at Scarlett, causing Ginny’s heart to constrict.

  “Let’s talk about what you want with us,” Ginny continued in a calm voice. “I’m only loosening the straps.”

  The pasty man ran his hands up Ginny’s legs, causing every muscle in her body to tense before he removed the two straps with the gun and phone.