Chapter Two

The shorter of the two men—David thought his name was Victor—goggled at Laura in the bed. Cowering there with her hair mussed and her makeup all but gone, he hoped she looked like a bride after her wedding night.

Her eyes were glassy with terror—a normal reaction to having a gun pointed at you—not to mention the absurdity of their situation. She’d been surprisingly calm before now—maybe she was simply in shock. He owed it to her to get her out of this without anymore trauma.

“Put the guns away,” he barked. “You’re scaring my wife.”

“Your wife, huh? What a joke.” But the speaker—the second man, Charlie—tucked his gun back into his jacket. Victor did the same.

“What do you mean, interrupting my honeymoon this way?” David asked, mustering a show of indignation. He prayed Laura would continue to play along. Their lives depended on her silence now.

Charlie glanced at Laura in the bed, and he must have been convinced, because he backed toward the door again. “Enjoy your…honeymoon. We’ll talk later,” he said.

David’s hands shook as he turned the deadbolt and fastened the security chain. He hadn’t considered how much worse he’d feel putting her life in jeopardy along with his own. He turned to Laura. She’d collapsed against the bed pillows. “Were those real guns?” she asked.

“Yes. And so is this one.” He took a pistol from the top dresser drawer, opened the slide to check the load, then shoved it back into place. He tucked the pistol into the small of his back. He felt better being armed, but only a little bit.

She stared. She had the clearest brown eyes he’d ever seen, and a perfect peaches-and-cream complexion. He hadn’t analyzed his choice when he’d picked her out of the crowd last night—she’d been there, and she’d been willing to help him. Now he cursed himself for getting her involved in this mess. She looked like the kind of woman who had family somewhere—people who cared about her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Who were those men, and why do they want to kill you?”

He sat at the end of the bed, close to her but not too close. He didn’t want to make her any more nervous than she already was. “The two men who were here just now—they were at the chapel last night, too—they work for a man named Frank Zacolli,” he said. “He heads up the largest organized crime family in the Midwest.”

Some of the panic had faded from her eyes, replaced by wariness. “And he wants to kill you?”

“Maybe. Right now, I’m not sure how he feels about me. I’ve spent the last two years undercover, gaining his trust.” Two long years in which he’d given up everything else in his life. “I’m supposed to be back in Chicago. He wasn’t supposed to know I was here, tailing him.”

“But what do I have to do with any of this?”

“Victor and Charlie—Zacolli’s thugs—spotted me last night. They were ready to shoot first and ask questions later. I needed a quick explanation for why I was in Vegas—one that had nothing to do with Zacolli. A wedding seemed like a plausible explanation, especially if the wedding were my own.”

“So my marrying you saved your life?”

“Yeah. For a while, anyway.” He didn’t know how long Zacolli would buy the ruse.

“But we’re not really married, right?” she said. “I mean, there’s no license.”

“The chapel sells them.” At her dismayed look he rushed to defend himself. “I had to make this look real.” He took a large white envelope from the nightstand and slid out an ornate, gold-embossed document.

Laura stared at the bold black calligraphy, which proclaimed the marriage of David Michael Abruzzo to Laura Marie Nichols. She’d signed in a shaky hand. “This can’t be happening,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” He slid the license back into the envelope. “I wouldn’t have involved you if I’d seen any way to avoid it.” He wasn’t going to throw away years of work because of Zacolli’s thugs. Not if he could help it. “We can fix this,” he assured her. “The marriage will be easy enough to annul. For one thing, you clearly weren’t in your right mind last night. You passed out right after we signed the license. By the way—how are you feeling this morning? You must have one heck of a hangover.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” she protested. “I only had a few sips of one of those sugary vodka cocktails at my sister’s bachelorette party. It gave me a headache, so one of her bridesmaids offered me these pills that she swore were aspirin. I must have had a reaction to them or something.”

“If you’re in Vegas with your sister, she must be frantic, looking for you.” He suppressed a groan. The last thing he needed was the local cops tracking him down and interfering.

“I doubt it.” She shrugged. “Rachel is the baby of the family and a little self-centered. When I didn’t come back to the party last night, she probably thought I decided to go to bed early. And she’d had a lot to drink. I doubt she’s awake yet, or in any condition to worry about me.”

“Then you can get back to her before she’s even realized what’s happened.”

“What about you?”

The question touched him. How many women in her position would waste two seconds worrying about the man responsible for getting her into this mess? That just proved how innocent she was; how vulnerable. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “We’ve thrown off Zacolli’s goons for the time being, and I’ll lie low so they can’t find me again.”

“And the marriage?” Her gaze shifted to the envelope.

“I’ll take care of it. Someone from the Bureau will be in touch. Where do you live?”

“Davenport, Iowa.”

Not that far from Chicago. What a coincidence—if he believed in coincidences.

“The FBI can annul a marriage?” she asked.

“The FBI can do anything.” He spoke with more confidence than he felt. So far, the Bureau hadn’t had much luck defeating Zacolli.

She pursed her lips, digesting this. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t. But I’ll give you the license, and you have my name. If you never see me again, that ought to be grounds enough for declaring the marriage invalid.”

“That and we never, well, you know.” She blushed, and he felt a sharp pull in his chest—and points farther south. She really was attractive—soft and curvy—with an innocence and strength that did crazy things to his emotions and his libido. He made it a point to never be responsible for anyone, and yet he couldn’t help wanting to take care of her; to protect her. “Did we?” she asked.

“No, we didn’t.” He’d been tempted to undress her last night, falling back on the excuse that he needed to make her more comfortable, but some latent sense of honor restrained him. “You’d better go,” he said. He stood and retreated to the window, needing to put some distance between them. He couldn’t afford to get involved any more than he already had. “Before your sister starts looking for you.”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she slipped out of bed and straightened her clothes. She disappeared into the bathroom, and he heard water running. When she emerged again, her hair was neatly arranged, and she’d removed the smudges of mascara from beneath her eyes. She stepped into her shoes and picked up her purse.

“Don’t forget your tiara.” He offered the cheap plastic crown.

She laughed, and his chest did that funny tightening thing again. He was tempted to pull her back—to ask her not to leave him. In spite of the way he’d taken advantage of her, she looked at him with so much sympathy—a rare commodity in his business. Still, she was too involved as it was, and he couldn’t endanger her further. “Mustn’t forget that.” She stashed the tiara in her bag and picked up the envelope with the license, then offered her hand. “Good luck,” she said.

He took her hand. The good-bye seemed terribly formal for a woman who was, after all, his wife. He’d probably never see her again, but he already knew he’d never forget her. The life he lived didn’t leave room for sentiment or self-indulgence, but maybe this once…

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” he asked.

She hesitated, and he knew she was going to say no. Why had he even asked? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—” he began.

“No. It’s all right.” She moved closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “You probably kissed me in the chapel, but I don’t remember.”

He scarcely remembered that hasty peck on the lips himself; all of his senses had been focused on the two thugs at the back of the room waiting for the opportunity to kill him.

“I think you owe me a kiss I’ll remember,” she said.

He didn’t need a second invitation. He covered her mouth with his own, tasting peppermint toothpaste and a vanilla-tinged lip balm. She rested one hand on his chest, palm over his heart, and eased the other up the back of his neck, her fingers twining in his hair, a surprisingly intimate gesture. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders and spine as he gave himself up to that kiss. She moved closer, the tips of her breasts just brushing his chest, and arousal built in him—a deep, primal wanting that made his fingers tremble and reach for her, even as she stepped away.

“Good-bye, David,” she said softly, and moved to the door.

“Good-bye, Laura.”

The door closed with a soft click and he sank onto the bed once more, his elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. What the hell had just happened?

His mother used to talk about fate. She believed everything, even bad things, happened for a reason. But his mother hadn’t done anything to deserve even half the bad things that had happened to her.

And what had David done to deserve a woman like Laura in his life? He’d made a career of hanging out with scum, and even though he was on the right side of the law, he walked a narrow line and had done his share of unsavory things in the name of justice. What had such a sweet girl ever done to deserve an encounter with a tarnished guy like him?

…

In the hallway, Laura leaned against the wall, trying to get her bearings. More than that kiss—incredible kiss though it was—had shaken her. She was married…to a gorgeous, dangerous man who was running from gun-toting thugs who were part of the mob. The mob.

Laura Marie Nichols, preschool teacher, responsible eldest child who’d never done anything more daring than risking the fifteen-item Express Lane at the grocery store with sixteen items in her cart, had been married in a Las Vegas wedding to a man who skulked around with a gun for a living.

It felt terrifying yet absolutely thrilling. As if she’d been given the chance to step into someone else’s shoes for a while. Instead of the overlooked, overly-compliant older sister in Vegas for a party that wasn’t her own, for a little while she’d been someone more interesting and exciting. A woman whom a gorgeous man had chosen to help save his life. What a shame she didn’t remember it more clearly.

She couldn’t share the details of this particular thrill with anyone, which dampened her spirits only slightly. She had the marriage license, so she knew the marriage was real—that the events of last night and this morning had really happened—and that was all that mattered.

She started down the hallway toward the elevator. A chime indicated the doors were opening. She ducked behind a maid’s cart. With her wrinkled clothes and half made-up face, she was a poster child for the walk of shame. Never mind that her one-night stand hadn’t resulted in anything juicier than a kiss—she still didn’t want people, even strangers, to think she’d been up to worse.

The elevator doors opened, and two familiar hulking figures emerged. The thugs, Victor and Charlie, headed down the hall toward David’s room.

“I’m telling you, that wasn’t a real wedding,” the taller man said as they passed her hiding place. “She was just some hooker he hired to play the part.”

“Yeah. I swear I caught a glimpse of the same clothes she had on last night under the bedcovers,” the shorter, bug-eyed man said.

He really thinks I’m a hooker? Laura could think of few things more absurd as she scooted down the hall and into the open elevator.

However, her next thought was for David. What are they doing back here? What happens when they get to the room and find out I’m gone?

The elevator stopped, and the door opened onto the lobby of the hotel. She spotted a man in hotel livery and grabbed his arm. “Shopping!” she demanded. “Where are the hotel shops?”

“Right around the corner there, miss.” He pointed, and she ran toward the row of shops, ducking into the first place she came to.

Great. A swimwear boutique. But this was no time to be modest. A waifish salesperson approached. “May I help—?”

“What do you have in a size twelve?” She interrupted.

The woman’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. “We have some very nice retro designer pieces in larger sizes,” she said.

Laura winced. Rub it in, you scrawny size zero. She followed the clerk to a rack near the back of the store. She avoided buying a swimsuit any more often than absolutely necessary, so her knowledge of current styles was limited. “Which do you think would look best on me?” she asked.

The sales clerk tilted her head, considering. Come on, I haven’t got all day here, Laura thought.

“This is our Marilyn number.” The clerk held up a bright red suit with a plunging neckline and ruching on the sides.

“I’ll take it.” She grabbed the suit.

“Don’t you want to try it on?”

“No. I’m sure it’s perfect.” She headed for the front of the store and the clerk hurried after her.

“You’ll need a cover up,” the clerk said.

“Great. Pick one for me. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“And a sarong.”

“Great. Throw that in too. I really am in a rush.” She handed the woman her card. “Is there someplace I can change?” She signed the charge slip. The total made her blanch, but she couldn’t be concerned about price right now. Not when a man’s life was at stake.

“You could use our dressing room.” She indicated a door.

Laura scooped up her purchases and raced into the dressing room, where she began frantically tearing off her clothes. She tugged on the red swimsuit and yanked off the tag. She stuffed everything else into the shopping bag and sprinted for the elevator.

She pressed up and waited, heart pounding. What was taking the elevator so long? And what was happening to David while she was stuck down here?

She dashed for the stairway and pounded up four flights of stairs, as fast as she could go. She raced down the hallway and knocked on the door to David’s room. She had to do this, had to channel every drama queen she’d ever met. “David, darling. Let me in. I forgot my key.”

David, gray-faced, opened the door. She threw her arms around him. “Sorry I took so long,” she said. “Do you like my new suit?

He stared at her. “It…it’s very nice.”

Over his shoulder, Laura caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She did look nice, cheeks flushed, hair ruffled. The new suit really showed off her curves. Maybe those designers were on to something…

She also caught sight of Charlie’s scowling face. His menacing expression made her heart pound, but she reminded herself this was no time to turn chicken. She wasn’t really being herself right now—she was that other, more exciting woman who had taken over her body last night. She sucked in a deep breath. “Who are these men, David?” she asked.

“Um, they’re business associates…”

“Couldn’t you forget about business for even one day?” She balled her hands into fists, her face contorted with anger. What would Rachel do? Her little sister certainly wouldn’t put up with treatment like this. “We’re on our honeymoon!” she wailed. “It’s bad enough the airline lost my luggage and we couldn’t get Elvis to marry us and had to settle for Liberace, but I won’t have you conducting business on our honeymoon.”

David stared, his expression a mixture of awe and fear. “I didn’t mean—” he began.

“You never mean, but you still do!” She stamped her foot and whirled to face Victor and Charlie. ”Get out of here.” She made a shooing motion toward the door. “This is my honeymoon, and I didn’t invite you!”

She jerked open the door and pointed dramatically into the hall. Victor and Charlie filed past her, and she slammed the door behind them. She held her breath, heart pounding in her ears, until she heard footsteps moving down the hall. She turned to David, the thin grip she’d had on her emotions broke, and she burst into tears.

“Hey, now. It’s okay.” He rushed to gather her into his arms and guide her to the bed. He handed her a tissue.

“I…I’ve never b…been so terrified in my life!” She sniffed, then blew her nose.

“You were brilliant,” he said.

She let him pull her close, until her head rested on his shoulder. He felt so good—solid and strong.

“Why did you come back?” He spoke softly, almost whispering.

“I saw them get off the elevator, and I knew they were headed back here. I was terrified they’d kill you before I could get back upstairs.”

“Why the swimsuit?” He gave her a quick once-over and grinned. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“One of them made a comment about my being in the same clothes I wore last night, so I wanted to distract them. I didn’t think of the excuse about the airline losing my luggage until I was back in the room.”

“Quick thinking,” he said. “And I do like the suit.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she didn’t respond to the compliment. “What do we do now?” she asked.

“I’ll switch hotels after you leave,” he said.

“I’m not leaving. Not until you’re safe.” She wasn’t sure when she’d made this decision—probably somewhere between seeing his ashen face at the door and his gathering her into his arms when she began to cry. “When we’re back in Chicago we’ll straighten all this out.”

“I can’t go back to Chicago,” he said. “Not yet. Not without Tommy.”

“Who’s Tommy?”

“Tommy is Zacolli’s son. He’s also the chief witness in the case against his dad. Once he testifies, we’ll have all we need to shut down the whole Zacolli operation.”

“And Tommy is in Las Vegas?”

“He got here two days ago—the day before I arrived. He was all ready to turn himself over to our custody when his father summoned him out here. I think the old man was getting suspicious. Tommy could be in danger if I don’t bring him in soon.”

“So you’re going to do what—kidnap the guy?”

“I’m going to convince him to fly back to Chicago with me and quit wasting our time.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it, then looked into her eyes. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t let you get in any deeper. It’s too dangerous.”

Dangerous, yes. But she was already involved. She couldn’t just walk away and leave him alone. And she wasn’t ready yet to turn her back on the exhilarating curve life had thrown her. What would be the harm of playing along with this for another day or two, especially if she really could help him? And she wouldn’t only be helping him, she’d be helping her country. How could she say no to that? “They already know who I am—and they think I’m your wife. So the way I see it, I’m safer with you than I would be apart from you.”

He frowned. “I’m not saying you don’t have a point, but this isn’t like some television show or movie. This is serious business. If you’re going to stay with me, you’ll have to do exactly what I tell you. Your life could depend on it.”

He’s trying to scare me, she thought. Part of her was afraid. But she was also excited and thrilled to be caught up in something so unlike her dull, everyday life. “I’ll help you any way I can,” she said. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Victor and Charlie think we’re newlyweds,” he said. “So we should act like people on a Vegas honeymoon.”

That should be easy enough. “Let’s go swimming,” she said. “If the two stooges are watching you, we should act normal.”

“I don’t have swim trunks,” he said.

“That’s okay. I know a boutique that sells them.”