Bridal Armor
Two agents’ forgotten love is rekindled in USA TODAY bestselling author Debra Webb’s Colby Agency: The Specialists series.
Someone was out to get Thomas Casey. His profession had taught him to trust no one. So when Johara di Rossi abducted him on his way to his beloved niece’s wedding, Thomas assumed the worst—despite their intimate history.
Though attachments made him vulnerable, Thomas was haunted by regret for walking away from Jo years ago. No other woman had stirred such intense desire in him. Now, snowbound in an isolated cabin, with a determined enemy from his past closing in, suspicion begins to melt away as the embers of their passion reignite.
“You should go back. I'll take it from here.”
“No way.” Jo shook her head. “I didn't stick my neck out for you just to get a better view when they take you down.”
“I'll land on my feet,” Thomas insisted.
“This time I think you need someone to break the fall.”
“If you stay, it could mean the end of your career. Or your life.”
“I can take care of myself. You know you need someone watching your back.”
He opened his mouth to protest. She pressed her fingers gently to his lips. “Don't say it. You have a partner this time. You'll just have to accept it.”
His lips kissed her fingers. She yanked her hand back as if she'd been scalded. Before she could step back, he caught her and pulled her hard against his strong body.
Debra Webb
USA TODAY
Bestselling Author
Bridal Armor
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debra Webb wrote her first story at age nine and her first
romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the
military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political walls of
Berlin, Germany, that she realized her true calling. A five-year stint with NASA
on the space-shuttle program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities
within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and
romance was set. Debra has been writing romance, suspense and action-packed
romance thrillers since. Visit her at
www.debrawebb.com
or write to her at P.O.
Box 4889, Huntsville, AL 35815.
Books by Debra Webb
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
934—THE HIDDEN
HEIR*
951—A COLBY CHRISTMAS*
983—A SOLDIER’S
OATH†
989—HOSTAGE SITUATION†
995—COLBY VS.
COLBY†
1023—COLBY REBUILT*
1042—GUARDIAN ANGEL*
1071—IDENTITY
UNKNOWN*
1092—MOTIVE: SECRET BABY
1108—SECRETS IN FOUR
CORNERS
1145—SMALL-TOWN SECRETS††
1151—THE BRIDE’S
SECRETS††
1157—HIS SECRET LIFE††
1173—FIRST NIGHT*
1188—COLBY
LOCKDOWN**
1194—COLBY JUSTICE**
1216—COLBY CONTROL‡
1222—COLBY
VELOCITY‡
1241—COLBY BRASS‡‡
1247—COLBY
CORE‡‡
1270—MISSING+
1277—DAMAGED+
1283—BROKEN+
1307—CLASSIFIED++
1313—DECODED++
1347—COLBY
LAW†††
1354—HIGH NOON†††
1359—COLBY ROUNDUP†††
1443—BRIDAL
ARMOR***
*Colby Agency
†The Equalizers
††Colby
Agency: Elite Reconnaissance Division
**Colby Agency: Under
Siege
‡Colby Agency: Merger
‡‡Colby Agency: Christmas
Miracles
+Colby Agency: The New Equalizers
++Colby Agency: Secrets
†††Colby,
TX
***Colby Agency:
The Specialists
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Thomas Casey—
Director of Mission Recovery. Thomas is the consummate specialist. But someone is apparently trying to take him down.
Johara de Rossi—
Initiative Committee member. The Initiative oversees most government shadow operations. Johara “Jo” has been tasked with determining whether or not director Casey is a traitor to his country.
Jason Grant—
A specialist. Grant has been tasked to follow Rossi to see just what the Initiative is up to.
Ginger Olin—
A spy sent by the Initiative to see that Johara de Rossi gets the job done. Or is assassinating a presumed traitor Olin’s true assignment?
Emmett Holt—
Deputy Director of Mission Recovery. Holt took Lucas Camp’s place when he retired. Some believe he will do anything to move to the top.
Casey Manning—
CIA agent and Thomas’s niece. She’s getting married to Levi Stark, a Colby investigator, and Thomas is giving her away.
Cecilia Manning and Louise Stark—
Mothers of the bride and groom.
Lucas Camp—
Thomas’s closest friend and Casey’s godfather. He will do whatever necessary to protect his friend and see that Casey’s wedding goes off without a hitch.
Victoria Colby-Camp—
The semiretired head of the Colby Agency. She and Lucas can’t seem to stay out of the business of investigations.
Contents
Chapter One
Denver International Airport,
Thursday, October 16, 3:21 p.m.
“I don’t know how the pilot managed, but we landed safely.” Thomas Casey relaxed his grip on his cell phone and drew in his first deep breath since the pilot had announced a sudden winter storm had hit Denver only minutes before their scheduled landing. The storm had descended rapidly and with the same ferocity as the Bronco Blizzard from another mid-October day a few decades ago.
According to the weather update Thomas had caught on a local newscast since his flight arrived, the forecast called for at least a foot of snow in the coming twenty-four hours. The temperature had dropped dramatically in the past hour, icing the streets of the city and threatening to shut down every form of transportation.
“Any chance you’re getting out of there this afternoon?” Lucas Camp, Thomas’s longtime friend and colleague, asked, hope in his tone.
As soon as he’d gotten off that damned plane, Thomas had put through a call to Lucas. His old friend and his wife, Victoria Colby-Camp, were already ensconced in the small village resort where the wedding would take place.
Despite being a twenty-year veteran of black ops, Thomas felt his knees weaken just a little. He’d never been married nor had children of his own. Casey Manning, his niece, was like a daughter to him. When she’d asked him to give her away at her wedding, he’d choked up so damned bad he could scarcely cough out an answer. Casey was his sister, Cecelia’s, only child. Cecelia’s husband had passed away suddenly just a year ago. Standing in was the least Thomas could do.
If he could get out of this damned airport.
“It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a little snow to keep me away from that wedding,” Thomas promised. “You tell my niece I’ll be there.”
The village was only two hours from Denver, half the distance from here to Aspen. He’d crawled across deserts in the Middle East and scaled mountains in the dead of winter in Eastern Europe. How hard could it be to manage a hundred or so snow-covered miles in Colorado?
“The rehearsal dinner isn’t until tomorrow night,” Lucas reminded him. “Tonight’s reception is just a casual affair. Stay in the city until morning if the roads are too hazardous for safe travel.”
Thomas grinned. “I think you’re getting soft, Lucas.” The next thing he’d be telling Thomas was to be sure to wear his seat belt—which he did anyway. “Ordinarily you’d be suggesting I find myself a pair of cross-country skis and hoof it on over to your location.”
A belly laugh boomed across the connection. “I can see you’ve never been a member of a wedding party, old friend. Once wedding plans are in place, God help the unfortunate soul who throws a wrench in the works. The sweetest young woman will become bridezilla in a heartbeat. I’m not worried about you, Thomas. It’s those of us already here with the bride-to-be who have to worry.”
“I’ll be there, Lucas.” Thomas ended the call and tucked his cell into his pocket. He picked up his carry-on and followed the signs to the lower level and ground transportation.
* * *
J
OHARA
D
E
R
OSSI
’
S
HEART
was still lodged in her throat. The way the storm had dropped on the city, she’d been convinced Thomas Casey’s plane would ice up and tumble to the runway like a radio-controlled toy with no battery life. While that might have put a convenient end to her task here, it wasn’t at all how Thomas Casey should leave this world.
The enigmatic director of Mission Recovery owed his country an explanation—her, too, if she was being honest. But her questions were not the priority.
Having disguised herself as one of the many flight attendants from a nearby airline milling about deciding how and where to wait out the storm, she’d cloned his cell phone. Now, listening in on her target’s phone call, she silently thanked Lucas Camp for helping her cause. If the wedding party wasn’t expecting him to arrive until tomorrow, she had a head start.
As Thomas left the gate area for the lower levels, she trailed at a respectable distance, but kept him in sight. He couldn’t be crazy enough to try to pick up his rental car in this weather. She had to presume he’d call a hotel for availability and then pick up a ride on a courtesy shuttle.
It really didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to make it that far anyway.
What did matter was that her window of opportunity was closing fast, the already tight schedule accelerated by the storm. Good thing she thrived on pressure or she’d need serious medication about now.
As a member of the Initiative committee, the small group charged with the oversight of ultra-covert teams like Casey’s Mission Recovery Specialists, her life was rarely dull.
When his name had crossed her desk, along with the report listing the privileged information that had roused the suspicions against him, she had immediate and mixed reactions.
She didn’t want to believe it. Men weren’t built any more dedicated or patriotic than Thomas Casey. The idea that he may be guilty of treason—or worse—made her stomach churn. As an investigator, she knew better than to prejudge an operative or a situation, but Thomas was different. She didn’t want to go digging into his past, but more important, she didn’t want anyone else digging into it.
On some level she recognized just how screwed up that was.
Be that as it may, having served with him on a mission near the time period in question, she was eminently qualified. With that in mind, she’d checked his schedule and counted it good fortune that she would be able to deal with this away from the prying eyes in Washington, D.C.
She walked by him as Thomas paused near the rental car lines and pulled out his phone. Listening in again, she was pleased by his predictable behavior as he made his first call to a nearby hotel. Smart man, she thought, as he booked the room without blinking at the storm-inflated price. The hotel clerk promised the next shuttle would be at the appropriately marked stand within ten minutes.
Adjusting her timetable for the shuttle and the road conditions, Jo started for the parking garage. It took all her control not to skid to a stop when she spotted another familiar face among so many strangers.
Specialist Jason Grant, one of Thomas Casey’s rising stars, was coming down the escalator. Though his eyes were shadowed by dark glasses, she knew his gaze was sweeping the crowd.
Damn it. She’d checked the itineraries for all of Thomas’s team over the next week. Grant wasn’t slated to attend the wedding. According to her information, he should have been working recon on a new case in Vegas. With one conversation, he could ruin her plans for a clean capture. She had only seconds to head him off.
Well, that’s what plan B was for, she mused. Jo popped open one more button on her blouse and rushed back toward Thomas. “Excuse me, sir? Seat A2, right?”
His brow puckered and she knew he was trying to place her from the airplane. “I worked coach,” she explained. “But I spotted this in your seat on my way out.”
She flashed an overly bright smile and handed him a passport. “That’s you, right?”
He opened it and, startled, gazed up at her. “Who are you?”
“You know me,” she murmured, leaning closer. “Thomas.”
His eyes went wide as he recognized her voice under the disguise.
“I need you.” The words were out, full of more truth than she cared to admit regarding their past, present and quite possibly their immediate future.
He nodded once, all business, and fell in beside her as she headed toward an employee access. She refused to look back, though she could feel Grant closing in as the door locked behind them.
“This way.”
“Tell me what’s going on, Jo.”
She ignored the ripple of awareness that followed his using her given name. It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. Thomas always treated everyone with efficient professionalism. Except for that one notable, extremely personal, incident years ago.
“I’ll tell you everything just as soon as we’re out of here.” She checked her watch. They had less than five minutes before the cabbie she’d paid to wait left in search of another fare. In this weather they’d never find another taxi. “Keep up. We have to get out of the area before the roads are closed.” She’d taken precautions, given herself options, but no one could prepare for a freak blizzard.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Yes.” On one too many levels, she realized. But it was too late to back out now. If she didn’t follow through, someone more objective would take over the investigation. Based on what she’d seen, she didn’t think that was a good idea.
Moving forward, she hoped some deep-seated instinct kicked in, making him curious enough to cooperate with her. Grant wasn’t just one of his Specialists, he was the best of the current crop. He’d been tagged to replace Deputy Director Holt, the man who held the position in which Lucas Camp had once served, when the deputy eventually moved up to replace Thomas.
The Initiative committee had approved the plan. Right now, she wondered what the hell they’d been thinking.
“Jo, wait.”
Would the day ever come when his voice didn’t create that shiver of anticipation? “No time.”
“I need an explanation.”
“And I’ll give you one when we’re away from the airport.”
“Jo.” He caught her arm, forced her to stop and really look at him.
Airport employees passed by, moving to and from their respective duties with various degrees of interest in their obviously strained interaction. She made mental notes, knew he was doing the same. Always an eye out for the next threat.
“A particular German mission file crossed my desk last week.”
“I see.”
She fingered the disk in her pocket. Loaded with enough sedative to guarantee his cooperation, she hesitated to use it. And she knew without reservation that she would get only one chance. “This was the only time we could talk safely.” Or so she’d thought.
“I’ve booked a hotel room,” he said. “We can talk there.”
“Fine.” Better if he believed she’d willingly compromise. “I have a cab waiting.”
At last he fell into step beside her once more, giving her hope this would go well. It almost felt like old times.
Almost.
Back then she thought they’d been on the same page, working together toward a common goal. After five years apart on diverging career paths, after reading through so many reports of success from his Specialists who routinely went above and beyond mission parameters, she wasn’t sure they could ever be on the same page again.
She might be sure he wasn’t a traitor, she just wasn’t so sure anymore that she was in the same league as the man behind the stoic, black ops armor.