Agent Bride (12 page)

Truth be told, she’d have let him take her on the floor.

Now she couldn’t wait to share with him what had happened while she was in the closet. “I remembered something,” she said.

* * *

H
IS
HEAD
SNAPPED
UP
.

“It was hearing the voices. The one who said that it was a big house for one person.”

“That’s the guy with the bad knee.”

“Yeah. That makes sense. Remember that I told you about the ghost. And that I was afraid of him. It was him. He’s the ghost.”

Cal propped himself up on one elbow. “How do you know?”

“He’s the one who drugged me. Shots in the arm. After I saw the wedding dress in the corner of the room, he gave me a shot. When I woke up, I was wearing the dress and my head hurt. I didn’t realize it was a veil until they let me up. I tried to pull it off and he slapped me.”

“I should have killed him,” Cal said.

She patted his arm. “That’s my boy,” she said, repeating what she’d said earlier.

He managed a grudging smile.

“Anyway, then he dragged me down some hallway. I tried to resist but they’d put these stupid shoes on me and I couldn’t get any traction. But I saw the way he walked. The way he swung his leg from the hip. I think...” She stopped, closing her eyes. “I thought he was a ghost but he was just a stupid man wearing a sheet that he’d cut eye and mouth holes into. He never wanted me to see his face.”

There was only one reason for that. They hadn’t intended to kill her. Drug her, yes. Keep her captive, sure. But they weren’t going to kill her because one of them intended to marry her.

It was a crazy plan. And didn’t seem well thought out. What did they think she was going to do once they got complacent and stopped drugging her? Be happy that she’d been forced into a marriage?

No. That wouldn’t happen. They would know that she would run the first opportunity she got.

Unless there was no place to run.

Where had they intended to take her? Why?

There were so many questions. But it was good to finally have some solid proof that there hadn’t been any plan to kill her. Maybe that would work in her favor if they found her.

Not that he intended to let that happen.

But bullets killed and something could happen to him. “Listen,” he said, “I’m going to get you my brothers’ phone numbers. You need to memorize them. If something happens to me, go to them. Brayden Hollister. Like I said before, he’s DEA and one tough son of a gun. He’s in New York. And Chase Hollister. Detective with the St. Louis Police Department.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re both going to be okay.”

She’s very beautiful.
That was what G had said. It was the same thing he’d said to the hotel clerk. In his gut, Cal knew that this was the man who had not only purchased the wedding dress but had also been the one who intended to marry Stormy. When he’d described Stormy, there had been deep emotion. Not love. Obsession, perhaps. Tinged now with a heavy dose of anger.

A dangerous combination.

“Maybe it’s time to go to the police,” he said. “Your memory is coming back. You’ve got enough to tell them.”

She shook her head. “I can’t trust the police.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But in my heart, I know that to be true.”

He could call Chase. Maybe Chase could put some feelers out, see if there was any information within the law enforcement world circulating about Stormy.

But Chase had his hands full. Someone he loved was testifying at a murder trial. Cal wasn’t going to ask him to put his own interests second again in favor of Cal’s interest. He just wouldn’t.

The Mercedes Men surely wouldn’t be back for at least another couple days. He’d give Stormy another forty-eight hours and then they had to do something.

“I should get up,” she said. “It’s close to eight. You’ve got to be hungry.”

“You bet,” he said, leaning down and nuzzling her pretty breast.

Chapter Fourteen

Cal was very talented with his mouth. No debating that, she thought, as she cracked eggs in a bowl. She was making French toast for a very late dinner.

It had been an amazing day. It seemed only fitting that the day had culminated with several hours in Cal’s bed.

She was slightly sore and deliciously satisfied. It was a nice combination.

“Hey,” he said, coming up behind her. He was freshly showered and he smelled of soap and mint from the toothpaste he’d used. He wrapped an arm around her waist and turned her to face him. Then he kissed her.

“Your French toast will burn,” she said, pulling back.

“I don’t care,” he said.

She gave him a gentle push. “I think we need to go back and see Pietro. He wasn’t happy that I knocked on his door. That must mean something.”

“It’s probably worth a try.”

She flipped three pieces of French toast onto a plate. She handed it to him.

“Thank you,” he said. He waited until she’d gotten her own serving and sat down at the table before he cut into his food. “Good,” he said between bites.

She could probably feed him dog food and he’d be appreciative. She took a bite and chewed slowly.

“I need to ask you something,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Don’t ask me to hide in the closet again,” she said. “I don’t think I can do it. I need to be able to help.”

He looked her in the eye. “I understand. I do. But I’m not going to let you get hurt. I can’t.”

“I feel the same toward you,” she said.

He seemed to consider that. Something changed in his eyes. She saw a bleak look of what might have been disgust.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I made a mistake.”

She’d wanted him to understand, not to be defeated. “I understand, I do. It’s just—”

“I need to tell you something.”

Something in the tone of his voice told her that this was her opportunity to be strong for him. “I’m listening,” she said.

“I told you that my stepfather wasn’t a nice guy. That was an understatement. He was a mean bastard.”

She kept her mouth shut. She’d sort of figured that.

“I haven’t always looked like this,” he said.

That made her smile. “You weren’t born six-two and 200 pounds?”

He shook his head. But he seemed to have relaxed just a little. “I didn’t hit my growth spurt until college. I was thin as a rail in middle school and high school.”

She wasn’t sure where this was going.

“Chase was three years older and a foot taller and seventy pounds heavier. But he was still no match for Brick.”

Things were becoming clearer.

“Brick used to beat him,” Cal said. “Sometimes badly.”

Her heart broke for the young boy he’d been. He’d had to have seen that. Probably had to worry that he was next.

“He didn’t hit me.”

“That was good. Right?” she asked.

“You know why? You want to know why?” his voice rose.

She wasn’t sure she did but she figured he was going to tell her. “Why?” she asked softly.

“Because Chase made a bargain with him. Brick could beat on him all he wanted. Chase wouldn’t fight back and he wouldn’t turn him in. In exchange, Brick was to keep his hands off me.”

Oh my. “I think your brother must have loved you very much,” she said finally.

He ignored the comment. “You know how I found out? Brick told me. He and my mother came to my college graduation. The college that Chase had paid for, sometimes working three jobs at a time. And that was my present from Brick Doogan. He told me the truth.”

“Why?”

“Because I think he knew that it would tear Chase and me apart. And that made him happy.”

“Did it? Tear you apart?”

“I was so angry with Chase. So angry with myself that I hadn’t been smarter, that I hadn’t seen what was happening. That I’d ignored the clues that I’d seen. Because I was afraid.”

“You were a child.”

Cal didn’t say anything for a long minute. “When I asked you to hide in the closet, I was doing the same thing that Chase had done for me. Protecting. For good reason, perhaps. But it was the wrong thing to do.”

“I’m not angry,” she said.

“I was. After Brick told me, I couldn’t keep my head on straight. The underlying message was clear.
You can’t protect yourself so I’ll do it for you. No matter what the cost to me.
”
How the hell was something like that supposed to make a guy feel?

Emasculated. Impotent. “What did you say to Chase?”

“Nothing. I couldn’t. As fast as I could, I enlisted in the navy and left home. Chase was shocked, to say the least. I’d just graduated with a mechanical engineering degree. I’d never talked about enlisting. And suddenly, I was in and on my way to basic training.”

“Why did you do it?”

“I had to. I had something to prove. That I didn’t need anybody fighting my battles. I was determined to be the best, the toughest. Nobody would ever have to take care of me again. When an opportunity came up to become a SEAL, I didn’t hesitate.”

She sat quietly, processing everything that he’d said. “And you and Chase have never talked about this.”

“Nope. I sort of stopped talking to him at all. Look, I’m not proud of that but I was twenty-two and very angry with him. Yet, I loved him and knew that I owed him a great deal. With those conflicting emotions, I felt it was better to just be away. Chase and I have communicated over the years but we’ve never really talked. That’s why I was coming home this Thanksgiving. It’s time. Past time.”

She understood much better that myriad of emotions she heard in his voice whenever he talked about his brother. “I’m betting that’s going to be a really good conversation,” she said. “You’ll handle it beautifully.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see. He needs to understand that I’m not angry any longer. I get why he did what he did.” He looked her in the eye. “And I will try very hard to never ask you to hide in another closet.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “And thank you for telling me about Brick and about Chase. You know, you’ve got your head on pretty straight.”

He shrugged. “I thought you should know, especially since we...”

“We did it,” she teased, wanting desperately to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. Since we did it.” He stood up and stretched, yawning widely. “I’m still real happy about that, you know.”

She felt warm. “I’m probably going to turn in shortly,” she said. “I’m hoping that you’re not planning on sleeping downstairs.” She wanted him in her bed. She wanted his heat, his strength, his incredible maleness to surround her. To insulate her from the rest of the world.

She wanted him inside her again.

She held out her hand. “Come with me.”

* * *

W
HEN
SHE
WOKE
UP
the next morning, Cal was already awake. He was watching her. “Hi,” she said, a little self-conscious. “What are you looking at?”

He smiled. “Dessert.”

She raised an eyebrow. “As I recall, you had a couple
helpings
last night.”

“There are certain times when it’s just damn foolish to count calories.”

She’d been counting orgasms. Four.

“Remember anything else while you were sleeping?” he asked, his tone gentle.

She shook her head. “Today will be the day. I just know it.”

“I know you have your hopes pinned on what we might get from Pietro but I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

She sat up in bed. When the sheet dropped to her waist, she pulled it up fast but not before Cal gave her a look of pure male appreciation. “Of course I’ll be disappointed. But not devastated. There’s a difference.” She smoothed down the sheet, running the palm of her hand over it several times. “It’s Friday. I think I’m running out of time.”

He nodded. “So we should get up and get going.”

She would much rather stay in bed and play. “Yes,” she said, already swinging her legs over the side.

They ate a quick breakfast of cereal and toast. When they walked outside, she could tell the weather had warmed up considerably, probably to the midforties. That, combined with the sunny day, was making the remaining snow and ice melt quickly.

When they passed Fitzler’s, she didn’t tease him any more about buying the property. But she saw him take a long look, as if he might be sizing the place up.

When they got to the spot where Cal had found her, there were spots in the vast expanse of land where the ground, an ugly green-brown, showed through. It looked so different than it had just forty-eight hours before.

But then again, she was very different, too.

A woman couldn’t leave Cal Hollister’s bed unchanged.

Cal had touched her heart, too. Of course she was different. When he’d listened and really
heard
her request to not be shuffled to the back of the closet, she’d known that something powerful had happened. It had been a connection that she still wasn’t sure she understood but it had told her everything she needed to know about Cal Hollister and the kind of man he was.

They pulled into the diner parking lot and went through the same routine as before. She got out of sight, Cal checked the parking lot, then entered the diner alone. At three minutes, she followed.

Unfortunately, Lena wasn’t working. It was a younger waitress who was hurrying back and forth with coffee and heaping plates of food.

She slid into the booth, anxious to see if there was any sign of recognition. It was impossible to know how many people G had shown her picture to. “Coffee?” the waitress asked, barely giving them a glance. Her name tag said Laura.

They both nodded and Laura hurried away, presumably to get them cups. Cal got up from the booth and snagged a newspaper off the stack that was haphazardly lying at the end of the counter. He sat back down and started quickly scanning the contents, flipping through the pages.

“Looking for something in particular?” she asked.

“Nope. Just looking,” he said.

She didn’t believe that. Cal probably never did anything without intention.

He pushed the newspaper in her direction. “Why don’t you take a look?”

She shrugged. “Can’t hurt,” she said. The front page was primarily devoted to national news and then it turned more local on the inside pages. She scanned the obituaries and passed up the food ads. The second section of the paper was Sports.

And the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her hand hovered over the page, anxious to flip, not able to complete the action.

“What?” Cal asked immediately.

Laura chose that moment to return to the table, two coffee cups in one hand, setting them down with a thud.

She watched as Laura took a pen out of her pocket. At least somebody was acting in a normal, expected manner. Not like her, who practically had a panic attack over a newspaper. What the hell was wrong with her?

“What can I get you this morning?” Laura asked.

Instead of ordering, Cal looked toward the kitchen. “We were hoping to catch up with Pietro while we were here,” he said.

“Good luck,” Laura said. “He didn’t show this morning.”

Her hand started to shake. She put down her coffee cup before the liquid sloshed over the rim. “Is he sick?”

Laura shrugged and looked toward the door as a table of four came in. “Not sure. But he hasn’t called in and the owner is really pissed. He’s acting like Pietro does this all the time. I’ve worked here for over a year and have never seen it before. The guy is a jerk.”

“Pietro?” Cal attempted to clarify.

“No. The owner.” She tapped her pen on the order pad. “What would you like?”

Cal pushed the menus to the edge of the table. “We’ll take four of your cinnamon rolls to go and if you could put these coffees in some paper cups, that would be great.” He pulled a twenty out of his shirt pocket. “You can keep the change.”

Laura scooped up the money and their coffee cups. “I’ll be right back.”

“What do you think?” she asked once the woman was out of hearing range.

“It’s odd,” Cal admitted. “And when odd things happen, we should pay attention. But first, tell me about the newspaper.”

“There’s something here,” she said, her voice soft. “I can feel it.”

“Which article?”

She looked at the Sports section again. There was a big article about the St. Louis Blues hockey team, a smaller article about coaching changes in the National Baseball League and several blurbs about local sporting events coming up on the weekend.

“None of them,” she admitted. “It’s just an overall sense of unease.”

“You have a lot of sports knowledge,” he said. “For a girl,” he added, his tone teasing.

As always, Cal had the most amazing way of adding just a little humor right when it was desperately needed. “We need to find Pietro.”

“Agreed. That’s why we’re taking our stuff to go.”

In less than three minutes, they were in the car. Once they got out of the parking lot and back onto the highway, Cal drove with one hand and held a cinnamon roll in the other. She felt too nervous to eat but she sipped her coffee.

“How do we play this?” she asked as they got closer.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” He took a big drink of coffee. “I think we need to be prepared for the possibility that something happened to him. After all, to unexpectedly not show for work and not call...”

Her coffee started to roll in her stomach. “You think something happened to him because he talked to me?”

“I don’t know. But it does seem odd that your conversation was yesterday and today, this.”

“I’m like the damn plague,” she said, so irritated with the whole situation that she could barely stand it. She wanted to thump her head against the window, to shake loose the memories that refused to come back.

“You might be the catalyst but you’re not the person responsible for anything that’s happening,” he said. “And I could be way off. I said we simply needed to be prepared.”

He wasn’t wrong. Something had happened to Pietro and it likely had something to do with her and the Mercedes Men.

When they got close to Pietro’s house, Cal did a pass-by, the same as the day before. Nothing appeared different. The snow had melted enough that the car tracks from the day before were no longer visible. Now there were simply patches of snow, split by long strips of gravel.