Final Vow (9 page)

“Ahmed,” she grabbed his hand and made him look at her. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Now, that has to be Sergei or one
of his men, and personally, I care a lot more about getting that bastard than a little blood.”

“Are you armed?” Ahmed asked as he pulled a gun from the small of his back. Bridget just raised an eyebrow and pulled out her weapon. “Stay behind me,” Ahmed ordered as he
rose from under the table and fired off a round at the top of the café. Bridget took advantage and made a dash for the café’s entrance.

Ahmed cursed as Bridget ran for the door. He should have known she wouldn’t listen to him. Sergei must have seen Bridget head for the door because the bullets stopped flying. Pedestrians were screaming in fear and in the distance sirens wailed.

Bridget was already through the inside of the café and out the back door by the time Ahmed entered the building. He saw her dart into the al
ley and saw a black-clad arm snap out from behind a dumpster and hit Bridget right across the chest, taking her down to the ground. Fear ripped through Ahmed as he shoved people out of the way and overturned little tables while pushing his way through the café.

He burst through the door and Bridget took full advantage of the distraction by kicking up as hard as she could. The man grabbed his crotch and fell
on top of her. In a quick move, she had him on the ground and was wrenching his arm behind his back. Ahmed skidded to a stop and took a deep breath. She was remarkable. It was one thing to see her in training, but she was a thing of grace and beauty while taking down a man twice her size. The only trouble—it wasn’t Sergei.

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to hit a girl?” Bridget asked as she slamm
ed his head into the concrete.

“He’s going to kill you,” the muscle
-head laughed. Before Ahmed could leap on him, Bridget slammed his head down again and applied a little more pressure to the arm she had pinned behind his back.

“Me?” s
he asked so sweetly Ahmed almost laughed . . . almost. “Why would he want to do a thing like that to little ol’ me?”

“Because of him,” the man said as he spat blood from his mouth.

“Well, that isn’t nice. Why don’t you tell me where I can find Sergei so I can have a little talk with him? Maybe we can resolve this because I’d hate for him to kill me,” Bridget said in a deceptively sweet tone.

“I’ve already cal
led him. He’ll find you tonight,” the man warned. The sirens came to a stop and the sound of boots pounding through the café had Ahmed slipping their guns into the dumpster. He may have immunity, but foreign officers tended to get a little annoyed when they caught him armed.

“
Mani in alto
!” the officers shouted. Ahmed raised his hands in the air with his diplomatic papers in his hand.

“
Arrestare quest’uomo primo
,” Bridget shouted over the noise. She knew Italian? Was there anything this woman couldn’t do? “Arrest this man first,” she shouted in English when the officers continued to point their guns at her and yell.

“Excuse me. W
e are a diplomatic envoy sent to stop an assassination attempt on the king of Rahmi. We caught this man and are claiming the right to deport him immediately. Here are the papers,” Ahmed said with a cold tone of authority.

One officer reached down and cuffed the man Bridget was straddling as another man reach
ed for the papers Ahmed held out. “This says you have diplomatic immunity. She does not. Arrest her,” the officer ordered in heavily accented English.

“
Let her go,” Ahmed said in a deadly voice.

“No. And if you do not move away I will arrest you
, too, diplomatic immunity or not.” The man yanked Bridget to her feet and Ahmed saw her grimace as the cuffs were put on.

Ahmed narrowed his eyes and with a shrug decided to make it worthwhile. He brought his arm back and slammed it into the officer’s face
, sending him to the ground. No one was allowed to hurt his woman. No one.

“Take them both to jail
,” the officer yelled as he struggled to stand up.

“Ahm
ed, why did you do that? I will be out in no time,” Bridget whispered as they were shoved into the back of a police car.

“A woman once told me a
jail cell is a great place to get to know someone,” Ahmed said with a grin as the door to the police car was slammed shut.

CHAPTER NINE

Ahmed didn’t cringe when
the iron door to the jail cell slammed shut. The Italians had agreed to their request to be put in a private cell together as they waited for the Rahmi embassy to be called. Bridget had handed them a card with a smile and thanked them for arresting that horrible man who tried to kill her. The officers had grinned like idiots and while Ahmed did not speak Italian, he knew they were flattering her by the way she blushed at their comments. The thought of trying to see how far his diplomatic immunity would go did cross his mind while he watched them fawn over her.

“You really didn’t need to do that. I’ll let you in on a secret,” Bridget said as she took a seat on the bench against the far wall. “This isn’t my first time in jail.”

Ahmed felt his eyes widen. She’d been in jail before? “I’ll let you in on a secret, too. It’s not my first time either.” He smiled as he relaxed on the bench beside her. He felt her staring at him and it was only then that he realized the smile was lingering on his lips.

“It looks good on you, you k
now? The smile,” Bridget teased as she bumped him with her shoulder.

“
It's good to finally have a reason to smile,” he said as he slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

Her body f
it perfectly against his while he traced tiny circles on her arm with his thumb. It wasn’t as if he had been celibate. There’d been women over the years. But only for a night or two, and he certainly hadn’t held them next to him like he was doing now. Everything was different with Bridget. He felt a strange combination of both peace and fire raging throughout his body as he held her. All those nights alone and wishing for someone to love were rushing to the surface because of this woman.

“Bridge
t, why aren’t you afraid of me?” Ahmed asked while resting his chin on the top of her head. He stroked her hair, a little redder now as winter approached, and wondered about this woman’s motives. Most women found him irresistible because he didn’t chase them and filled their quota for dark and mysterious. They never knew his dark side and he would never show them that part of him. Bridget, though, had caught glimpses of it and hadn’t run in terror. In fact, she kept pushing him to show more.

“You’re caring, loyal,
and protective of your friends. And you love dogs. What’s to be afraid of?” she asked in return, snuggling closer to him.

“
Probably the not-so-legal ways I go about my job, the things I’ve seen and done . . .” Ahmed trailed off as he thought about the men he’d had to kill, the days and nights of torture he had endured—it had changed his soul just as much as losing his son had.

“
Maybe that’s because I’ve been to those places, too. It’s not something I talk about, just like you. But I’ve been caught in ambushes and stuck out in the desert forced to protect an injured comrade and myself. I also spent some time in an Afghan jail. By the way, this jail is so much nicer. I’m not that person, though. Sure, those things helped to shape me, but they aren’t who I am. Just like whatever you’ve been through may affect you but it doesn’t define you.” Bridget pulled back and looked into his dark eyes. He looked back at her and felt for the first time someone could reach his soul. If there was anyone who could maybe understand him and not hate him for his dark side, it had to be her.

“Bridget, there’s so much to tell
. . .”

“
Signorina
Springer. You are free to go. There is a man on the phone for you,” a young guard with appreciative eyes and a wide smile said, holding the cell door open. “Not you,
Signor
.” Ahmed narrowed his eyes and glared as Bridget stood up and headed for the open door.

He softened his face when she turned around and gave him a wink. “Need me to bail you out?”

“I’m sure Mo will have me out by the time you get off the phone.” Bridget gave him one last smile and then took the phone from the guard.

“Hello? Oh
, hi.” Ahmed felt his jaw tighten at her happy voice. “I know. I’ll try to behave.” She laughed, turning her back to Ahmed.

Another officer hung up his
phone and nodded to the guard by the jail door. “He’s free to go.” Ahmed tried not to smile. He knew it wouldn’t take long for Mo’s father to convince his friend, the Italian president, to release him.

“Thank you
again. I love you, too,” he heard Bridget say into the phone before handing it back to the guard.

Ahmed felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. He thought she didn’t have anyone special in her life. It was one of the reasons he felt he had time to defeat Sergei. Some stupid part
of his brain thought she was his, even though he hadn’t declared his love for her yet. He had thought he could do what he needed, and she’d be there when he was ready. Wait, she’d kissed him and told him she loved him . . . and he hadn’t said it back. Had she decided he wasn’t worth waiting for? Well, he’d show her. He was tired of sitting on the sidelines of life. Tired of watching his friends find love as he had to push it away. It was time to fight for it. It was time to stop letting Sergei dictate his life. Bridget was his. Now he just had to prove to her he was worth taking a chance on.

“Good, you’ve been sprung. So, what’s our game plan?” Bridget asked when she saw him standing next to her.

“The plan is to meet me in the hotel lobby at seven.” Ahmed turned and walked out leaving her standing there surrounded by smiling guards. He had to call Jamal and then plan a date.

Bridget strapped on her bulletproof vest and slid her Glock into the back of her pants. She checked the small Sig at her ankle and the knife hidden in the vest before tugging a black sweatshirt over all her gear.

She froze when she heard the knock at the door.
She picked up one of the guns that she couldn’t hide on her body and approached the door silently. “Who is it?”

“I have a delivery for
Signorina
Springer from
Signor
Ahmed,” the voice called from the other side of the door. Bridget leaned forward and looked through the peephole. She relaxed when she recognized one of the hotel staff and opened the door.

“
Grazie
,” Bridget said as she took the big white box with a red bow on top.

Bridget
closed the door and walked to her bed. She untied the big bow and slid the lid off. She pushed aside white tissue paper and her mouth dropped at the sight of the red dress. With shaky fingers, she lifted the small card with a handwritten note from Ahmed, asking her to wear the dress tonight.

She put the note down on the bed and lifted the dress from the box. It had a corseted bodice and an A-line skirt that would gl
ide along the floor. She pulled the boxy black sweatshirt off along with her vest. No way that was going to work with this dress. Bridget placed her weapons on the bed and slipped into the dress.

The soft fabric caressed her body as she walked to the mirror to
check out the new look. She glanced at her watch and then to the weapons lying on the bed. She had fifteen minutes to do her hair, put on makeup, and try to fit as many weapons in the dress as possible.

She
had just slid her knife into a sheath on the outside of her thigh when there was another knock at the door. She picked the gun up from the bed and made her way to the side of the door again. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” With that smooth deep voice
, Bridget didn’t have to ask who “me” was.

She lowered her gun and opened the door. Ahmed stood
wearing a tuxedo and holding a red rose. Bridget licked her lips unconsciously at the sight of him before her. He looked sinful in a tuxedo, and she couldn’t decide if she liked the sight of his broad shoulders, flat stomach, or muscled thighs better. Maybe he would just let her rip it off. If only she had dated more, then she might be able to read his signals better. In reality, she had no idea what she was doing and felt as if she were constantly arguing with herself about whether she should let him make a move or just jump him.

“You look stunning, my dear.” Jumping him was defin
itely the way to go. “For you.”

Bridget smiled as she took the rose
and felt her heart speed up. Was he finally feeling something for her or was this just a pretense to catch Sergei? "Thank you. I could only fit one gun and one knife in this dress. I feel practically naked.” Bridget laughed nervously as Ahmed looked her over slowly. She felt her breathing falter as his eyes lingered on her breasts and then slid lower. “Um, so are we off to get Sergei?”

“No. Not tonight.
At the last moment, my brother convinced the king and president to move the meeting to an undisclosed location. They will be safe from Sergei. Tonight you won’t even need the gun, and I am trying to figure out where on that delectable body of yours you have hidden it.”

Bridget gulped as she felt his words wrap around her. She brought her hand up and fanned her face as she tried to regain control of her body. “Then what are we doing?”

“I’m taking you on a date.”

* * *

Ahmed placed his hand on the small of Bridget’s back and guided her to the red velvet chair in their private box at the
Teatro dell‘Opera
. Tonight he would show her that he could be the man she deserved. By the end of the night, she wouldn’t even remember that man on the phone.

“The opera
—I’ve only been once and I’ve always wanted to go again. What are we seeing?” Bridget asked with excitement as she took a seat close to the banister.

“
The Marriage of Figaro
. It’s one of my favorites. I’m just glad we didn’t get kicked out of the country before we could see it,” he smiled at her again and leaned back in the chair next to her. Two smiles in one day. She was having an effect on him.

Turning her head, Bridget looked around the box and then out the golden archway toward the stage. “It’s about to start. It looks packed. I’m surprised we don’t have other people in here with us,” she w
hispered as the lights dimmed and the large red velvet curtain opened.

“I bought the box. I wanted to spend the night with you
—and only you,” Ahmed said in a low voice. He looked down at her smiling up at him, her breasts rising with every intake of breath. He’d have to find out where she kept that gun.

“Me? Alone? Why?”

Ahmed smiled again when Bridget fumbled her words. She hadn’t dated anyone since coming to Keeneston and her unassuming innocent reactions had him hard in seconds. He knew she was not experienced enough to purposely tease and yet he had to fight his basal desire to claim her for the entire world to see.

“So I could do this.” Ahmed cupped her
chin and brought her lips to his. He kissed her gently trying to control the desire surging through him. If he knew she only wanted him, then he’d take her against the wall in the shadows at the back of the box as Figaro and Susanna sang of their wedding.

Instead
, he moved slowly, parting her lips and tasting her. Ahmed let his hand slide under her gown. He moved it up her leg and smiled against her mouth when he felt the knife. It turned him on even more as she clutched his arm while he slid his hand over the leather of the sheath toward her arching hips.

Ahmed pulled back and looked down at her. Her lips were parted and slightly swollen from his kisses. She still clung to him, looking at him with complete trust that had him
gripping her thigh with fierce desire. “Before we put on a better show than the opera, turn and keep your eyes on the stage,” Ahmed ordered with a voice graveled from passion.

He watched as she swallowed hard and nodded before turning to the stage. The look of disappointment em
boldened him as he, too, turned to look at the stage. But when he moved his hand toward her center, her eyes widened and she shot him a smile before looking back toward the stage. He didn’t think he could take her in the back of the box, but he could have her in one way tonight.

As Bridget’s breathing quickened, so did his. The sight
of her flushed cheeks against her serene expression had him filled with desire. He knew he put that blush on her cheeks, and as the aria reached its crescendo, he felt Bridget find hers. Her hand gripped his upper arm as the crowd cheered the singer on stage.

Bridget took a shaky breath as she tried to calm down. Ahmed had just, well, he’d just . . . wow! She didn’t think she’d be able to put together a coherent sentence for the life of her right now.

S
he kept her eyes on the stage and almost jerked when she felt Ahmed’s fingers lace with hers. Bridget looked over at him then. His brown eyes were soft as he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Oh, if she thought she was in love with him when he didn’t talk much and their way of flirting was sparing, this side of him was too much. Roses, kisses, and opera . . . she wasn’t just falling in love—she was diving headfirst from the tallest building.

Bridget
glanced at Ahmed one more time as he watched the opera. His thumb was absently rubbing her knuckles and he looked, well, happy. His face, normally so tense, was relaxed and he even had a slight smile on his lips.