Randy simply looked straight ahead and said nothing.
“Agent McConnell,” Benny said pointedly, nodding in Jimmy’s direction. “If you’ll be so kind as to return to your place. Or do I need Jimmy to place you there?” Benny smiled again, obviously enjoying this whole scenario to the max, “...using as many meds as he needs to accomplish it? Or, I can simply put Jimmy in your place. Maybe he can make some babies for me.”
Luke straightened and glared at Jimmy. No fucking way that man was going to touch Dani. Over my dead body. He gave Randy one more withering look. What the hell. Nothing’s making sense. Randy said he was deeply invested. For years. But he didn’t warn Benny that he had a mole in his house, namely me. Sullenly he returned to his place, standing once more beside David, and waited. He felt like a freak on display in front of the entire underworld. The cop was marrying the daughter of a runaway mobster. Her uncle, the king of the underworld, waited with a sadistic grin for the nuptials to be performed over the dead body of the bride’s father, for all to enjoy.
He was embedded in the most perverse and damn ridiculous farce he’d ever heard of.
He was alone. The only hope for rescue now sat in the rows of men and women who came here to see blood spilled on a white wedding dress. And Randy, the one guy he would have trusted with his life, refused to meet his eyes.
Luke’s fists curled up, fingernails digging into his palms. His knuckles were white and the tremor of anger that ran through his body left him shaking. He was well and truly caught. And to make matters worse, he was in the deep end with Dani. This he couldn’t forgive himself for. Dani’s life was in as much danger as his. Possibly worse.
He looked around the room again, his training coming to the fore. How many man could he take out? Enough to get away? Dani was a hell of a good fighter; between the two of them, could they break through?
Then what? Run past the entire underworld? Hide in a ditch somewhere?
Well, it’s obvious I can’t go to the police. Luke couldn’t look at Randy. He was too angry. Why did he come out now? What made him... if he wanted the guest list, he could have gotten it from Benny. He refused the USB stick the first time, then changed his mind. He was trying to protect Benny and then wanted the evidence to what, destroy it?
But Randy had demanded the guest list... Luke closed his eyes for a moment, trying to see his thoughts more clearly. Randy had asked for the list as a way to...
His eyes shot open. Every time Randy talked about that damn guest list, it was a way to get Luke to go back. He demanded it as a condition of Luke’s rescue, even when Luke got out and reported...
Fuck! That “message” from Benny, that so called, “she marries or she dies”. Did Randy just make that up? That would explain how he’d heard it so fast. It would explain a lot of things.
He looked around the room again. He tried to turn the tables in his mind, being the one on the right side of the glass and they were the ones on display. What did he see?
People who held power. A lot of power. People who didn’t answer to Benny, as far as Luke knew. People who were business partners though, according to intelligence, occasional partners only. People who were rivals, people who coated the chapel with a pall of suspicion and distrust.
Why in the hell would he invite people he would most likely rather see...
When the answer hit him he had to bite down on his tongue, hard, to keep from screaming.
DANI!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“There are times when I really wish I wasn’t so damn little!” Katie stomped a foot. For all the pique, it was a careful and delicate stomp. The girl was wearing spiked heels, so anything too expressive could easily snap the shoe, or an ankle. She turned quickly, letting the hem of her dress swirl around her and settle again.
Dani stifled an urge to scream. If this were her actual wedding, the last thing she’d do is dress the bridesmaids in anything pastel. She hated pastels. And here was Katie, all dolled up in the most ethereal baby blue creation ever seen. A short baby-doll fashion, with a top cut low enough that it looked better suited for a porn video. She shuddered.
Remember, this is not your actual wedding. And the last thing you need to do is to get worked up over the choice of dress. When did you become a freaking girl? Focus, Dani. Your life, and Luke’s, depends on it.
Katie turned to the mirror again and spent several minutes fluffing at her hair, adjusting it in some way that made no difference at all that Dani could see. “I always wanted to be like you,” Katie said wistfully. “Strong, broad shoulders, that masculine physique. You’re so lucky.” Katie reached under the top of the dress to adjust herself. “Of course, I like having larger breasts, but you know, to each her own.”
That did it. Dani passed a few moments imagining Katie without hair and covered in hot tar and feathers. It was petty, but so was Katie.
It’s only a small indulgence. I’ll be vigilant in a minute.
“I don’t know what I did to you, Katie,” Dani said, carefully getting up from the stool she’d been balancing on carefully so not to wrinkle the dress. She smoothed at the skirts, testing movement, trying to decide if she could run in it if she needed to. “I always treated you nice.”
“Yeah.” Katie smiled like she was meeting an old friend to rehash the golden years. “Yeah, you really did. But you treated your brother better, so...” With an eloquent shrug, she turned and squealed in delight. Dani whirled around and looked around for whatever it was that Katie had seen, positive that at the very least a dozen thugs had to be trying to get into the room.
“No! No! Turn back around! You look so pretty!” Katie squealed.
Dani blinked in surprise and glanced in the full-length mirror, really looking at herself for the first time since she’d put on the dress. The gown was white—she figured if no one asked, there was no reason to tell—and floor-length. A risqué cut opened the front of the skirt nearly to the crotch, and her left leg was bare and draped by the cloth. It set off the tan nicely. More than that, she’d picked this style because it looked like a wedding dress, but afforded her infinite movement in case she had to run. Or fight. She only needed to pull up the extra cloth in back and she would be free to attack or flee as the occasion called for. Or so she’d hoped. There was a little less give in the fabric than she’d counted on.
It brought new life to the term ‘runaway bride’, but she wasn’t about to walk into her own funeral because the dress was too fluffy. A shorter skirt would have been easier to run or fight in, but the longer skirt could conceal any manner of weapon. Now all she needed was weapon to conceal.