Secret Intentions. Paula Graves
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Ah, there she is.
He adjusted the lenses to watch Evie Marsh stride toward the side door of the church, muscles flexing beneath her slim-fitting jeans. A long black garment bag draped over her shoulder no doubt held her bridesmaid’s dress. Jesse idly wondered what she’d look like in that dress.
Maybe he’d catch a glimpse after the wedding, when the bride and groom emerged for the rice throwing. At least he hoped it would be his first chance to see Evie in her dress—it would mean the wedding had proceeded as planned. No matter what his family thought, he’d love to see Rita Marsh married to her nice professor without incident. What he and Rita had shared had been over a long time ago.
His cell phone rang. He smiled at the name on the display. “Hi, Evie.”
“Where are you positioned?”
Not much got past Rita’s brainy little sister. “In the side lot of the convenience store across the street from the church.”
“How many agents with you?”
“Just me. I have others ready to move on my order.”
There was a faint rustling sound on the other end of the line. Jesse’s mind wandered into dangerous territory, imagining Evie undressing to put on the bridesmaid dress. He dragged his thoughts back under rigid control as she said, “I told you Dad hired a whole security team for the wedding.”
“That’s why I’m across the street.” He checked his watch. Eleven-thirty. The wedding was at two. Attendees would be arriving soon, making it that much harder to keep an eye out for anything strange.
“I should have asked you as my date,” Evie muttered.
“I don’t think Rita would have appreciated that.” Their relationship might be over, but he wasn’t exactly one of his ex-fiancée’s favorite people. “Or your dad.”
“It’s just stupid you’re sitting over there instead of here where you can see what’s going on.”
“I’m hoping nothing happens and all this worry was for nothing.”
“But you don’t really think that’s true, do you?” Evie asked. Jesse could tell she wanted to hope for the best, but she had never been a cockeyed optimist. Little Evie Marsh had always been a realist, even as a gangly teenager following Jesse and Rita around during their courtship.
“It’s best to prepare for any eventuality,” he answered.
He heard Evie’s soft sigh over the phone. “I’d better check on Mom and Rita. I don’t know who’s more high-strung today.”
“Is she really happy?” he asked before he could stop himself.
There was a long pause on Evie’s end of the line. “Yes, she’s really happy. She loves Andrew a lot.”
Jesse waited for a familiar twinge of pain, but it never came. “Good,” he said, meaning it.
“I’ll check in again before the ceremony,” she said and hung up.
Jesse closed his phone and picked up his binoculars, scanning the area for trouble and praying he’d find none.
* * *
E VIE LAID HER PHONE on the dressing table and eyed the closed door of the bride’s room’s inner dressing room. Rita was in there, talking with their mother as they finished the last touches on her hair and makeup. Evie wondered if her mother was asking the same question of Rita that Jesse had just asked of her.
Was she really happy?
There’d been a time Rita would have answered no. She’d spent a lot of time mourning her breakup with Jesse Cooper, although she’d been the one to end things when Jesse wouldn’t give up his Marine Corps career for her.
Rita shouldn’t have tried to force Jesse to be something he wasn’t. He was a leatherneck through and through, even now, years after leaving the Marine Corps. It was written all over him, from his masculine bearing to his hard-toned body and high-and-tight haircut. It had never made sense to Evie that the same qualities Rita had found so irresistible were the very qualities she’d wanted him to change to be her husband.
She supposed everything worked for the best. Rita had found a man who adored her and treated her like a queen. A woman could do a lot worse than Andrew Kingsley.
Evie eyed her bridesmaid dress. She didn’t relish the idea of squeezing herself into the tight bodice until absolutely necessary, but she didn’t want to mess up her hair again by re-dressing in her T-shirt and jeans just to go take a look at the sanctuary. The florist had delivered the flowers earlier that morning, so she hadn’t been able to get a look at the final decorations during the rehearsal the night before. She knew from her sister’s description that the sanctuary was going to be beautiful. She just wanted to see it for herself.
She compromised by slipping Rita’s white silk bathrobe over her slip before she padded barefoot into the corridor.
The sanctuary was at the far end of the hall, accessible by a double door that opened into the auditorium next to the piano by the altar. Evie stuck her head inside and took a quick look around.
Rita had selected an autumn palette for her wedding, her flower arrangements consisting of gold, russet and burnt-orange roses, lilies and chrysanthemums. The bridesmaid dresses were a rusty red that reminded Evie of dogwood trees in autumn. The pews were adorned with simple copper bows and the unlit unity candles at the front were a soft peach.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
Evie turned to find a man in a black tux watching her from the front pew. On the pew beside him sat a large black trumpet case.
“Beautiful,” she agreed.
“I’m a little early. Or the rest of the orchestra is late.” He shrugged.
He was nice-looking. Early thirties, pleasant features, trim and masculine. Also friendly and uncomplicated. She’d had about all she could take of complicated, she thought, her mind wandering to the oh-so-complicated man watching for trouble from a convenience-store parking lot.
“You’re in the wedding?” the musician asked.
“Sister of the bride.” She smiled. “Guess I’d better go get dressed.”
She backed out of the sanctuary and started down the hall toward the bride’s room. She’d gone about ten feet when she saw a rush of movement through the windows facing the church’s side parking lot.
Security guards, she recognized, though the men her father had hired were in plain clothes rather than uniforms. They shared a fierceness of purpose as they streamed toward the door at the end of the corridor.
Panic tightened Evie’s gut. Had something happened?
As she started sprinting toward the bride’s room, someone grabbed her from behind in a strong, rough grip. She tried to struggle free, but her captor sprayed her in the face with something that stung on contact.
Pepper spray, she realized with shock, gagging as she tried to breathe. Her eyes slammed shut, burning as if on fire, and when she tried to scream, her voice came out in a tortured croak. She tried to remember the evasion methods she’d learned during her Cooper Security orientation training, but the pain in her eyes and her lungs overwhelmed her so that it was all she could do to draw her next breath.
A second captor grabbed her feet and lifted, turning her sideways and sending the world around her spinning off its axis. Blinded, gasping for air and disoriented, she landed on something solid and clawed for a foothold before realizing she was lying on her side rather than standing. She heard a solid thud of something closing, and what little light had been able to seep through her streaming eyes disappeared, plunging her into utter darkness.
The smell of pepper spray remained strong, and the skin around her face burned. She needed water, something to rinse off the residue of the spray remaining