The Men In Uniform Collection. Barbara McMahon
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if she was in danger...
* * *
HER HAND SHOOK as Tanya lifted the zippered garment bag containing her wedding gown toward the hook hanging on the wall of the bride’s dressing room. It wasn’t the weight of the yards of satin and lace that strained her muscles but the weight of the guilt bearing down on her shoulders. I can’t do this! It’s not right...
But neither was her grandfather’s manipulation. Even a decade after his death, the old man hadn’t given up trying to control his family. A couple of decades ago, he had bought off Tanya’s father, so that he had left her mother and her and her sister, forcing them to move in with her grandfather.
That place had been the exact opposite of the bright room in which Tanya stood now. The bride’s dressing room was all white wainscoting and soft pink paint. That house had been cold and dark. She shuddered at just the thought of the mausoleum. But then she smiled as she remembered who had called the drafty mansion that first. Cooper Payne.
He had kissed her there—after he’d pushed her up against one of the pillars of the front porch. That kiss had happened more than a dozen years ago, but her heart beat erratically at the memory. It had never pounded that hard over any other kiss. Her very first kiss...
Maybe that was why it had meant so much. Maybe that was why, even though it had been years since she’d seen him, she thought so often of Cooper Payne. It was probably good that he’d turned down Stephen’s request to be his best man. Good that he wasn’t going to be standing there when she followed through with this charade.
She wouldn’t be able to utter her vows—to lie—with him looking at her. Not that he’d ever been able to tell when she was lying...
He had believed her when she’d agreed with him that the kiss—and the few that had followed it—had been a mistake, that they were only meant to be friends. She had nodded and smiled even while her teenage heart had been breaking.
Maybe it was the memory of that pain that had kept her from ever falling in love again. But then there had also been those threats. Stephen was convinced they were empty. But what if they weren’t?
Should she risk it, as Stephen had advised? Or should she forfeit her inheritance?
She glanced into the antique mirror that stood next to where the garment bag hung, but she quickly turned away from the image of blond hair and haunted green eyes. She couldn’t even look at herself right now. If she followed through with this farce, she would never be able to look at herself again.
She breathed a ragged sigh. She wouldn’t miss the money; it had never been hers anyway. But she’d had plans for it—good plans, charitable plans...
Her grandfather had never practiced any charity—not even at home. Benedict Bradford had really been a mean old miser. So giving away his money would have been the perfect revenge for how he’d treated her mother and her and her sister.
But a wedding shouldn’t be about revenge. Or money. Or even charity. It should be about love. And while Tanya loved her groom, she wasn’t in love with him.
“I—I can’t do this...”
Not the wedding. Not even the damn rehearsal. She crossed the room and jerked open the door to the vestibule and nearly ran into Cooper Payne’s mother. Petite and slender with coppery-red hair and warm brown eyes, Mrs. Payne was exactly the opposite of her tall, dark, muscular sons. Only the youngest—her daughter—looked like her.
“What’s the matter, honey?” the older woman asked as she gripped Tanya’s trembling arms. “Are you all right?”
Tanya shook her head. “No, nothing’s right...”
“I know the rest of the wedding party hasn’t shown up yet, but there’s no rush,” Mrs. Payne assured her, her voice as full of warmth and comfort as her eyes. “Reverend James and I—”
She didn’t care about the rest of the wedding party. “Stephen—is Stephen here?”
Mrs. Payne nodded. “I showed him to the groom’s quarters a while ago, so that he could stow his tux there for tomorrow, like you’ve stowed your dress. Then you’ll have less to worry about for the ceremony.”
There was not going to be a ceremony. But Tanya couldn’t tell anyone that until she’d told Stephen. He’d concocted this crazy scheme in the first place because he was her friend, because he’d always been there for her. But she couldn’t take advantage of that friendship, of him.
“Where are the groom’s quarters?” she asked.
“You need to wait until the others show,” Mrs. Payne said. “So that the rehearsal can proceed just as the ceremony will tomorrow.”
“No, I—I need to talk to Stephen,” she insisted. “Now.” Before the farce went any further.
Mrs. Payne’s brown eyes widened. But after having worked with so many happy couples over the years, she must have realized something was off with them—that Tanya was hardly an ecstatic bride. “The groom’s quarters are behind the altar.”
Tanya crossed the vestibule and opened the heavy oak doors to the church. Since night had already fallen, the stained-glass windows were dark. The only light came from the sconces on the walls, casting shadows from the pews into the aisle. So she didn’t notice that the red velvet runner was tangled. She tripped over it, catching herself before she dropped to her knees. That was weird—usually Mrs. Payne never missed a thing. No detail escaped her attention.
The wedding planner had worked so hard that guilt tugged at Tanya. She hated to disappoint the woman. But she couldn’t go through with a lie.
Stephen would understand that. It wasn’t as if he thought of her as anything other than a friend either, so he wouldn’t be hurt.
The door to the room behind the altar stood ajar. She pushed it open to darkness. “Stephen?”
Had he changed his mind, too? She didn’t blame him, but she doubted that he would have just left without talking to her first. She fumbled along the wall, feeling for the switch, when her fingers smeared across something wet. That wasn’t something Mrs. Payne would have missed either. The chapel was spotless.
Tanya flipped on the switch, bathing the room in light—and discovered it had already been bathed in blood. It was spattered across the floor, the couch and the wall. Panic and fear rose up at the horror, choking her, so that she could barely utter the scream burning her throat.
* * *
COOPER HEARD IT. Even though the scream wasn’t loud, the sheer terror of it pierced his heart. He ran past his mother, who was already halfway down the aisle of the church—and toward the danger. Years had passed since he’d heard it, but he had instinctively recognized Tanya’s voice.
“Stay here,” he ordered his mother as he reached beneath his leather jacket and pulled his weapon from the arm holster.
She pointed behind the altar, to the room from which light spilled. And Tanya. She backed out of the doorway, her hand pressed across her mouth as if to hold in another scream. As he rushed up behind her, she collided with Cooper. Then she pulled her hand away and screamed again.
He spun her around to face him. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s me.”
Her green eyes, damp with tears, widened, and then she clutched at him, pressing against his chest. “Cooper! Thank God it’s you!”
Her slight body trembled in his arms that automatically closed around her, pulling her even closer. She fit perfectly against him. But he was just comforting her, just making sure she was all right.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, and her silky blond hair brushed against his throat. “No, no...”
He peered over her head into the room, and then he saw it. All