Honeymoon To Die For (6 page)

Not the family driver
.

When Ryder had called to inform Terrence about being released and his upcoming nuptials, he’d said it would be a quick ceremony with no guests. His brother had asked Ryder to come by once he returned from his honeymoon—just as Ryder had predicted to the team. Ryder told Terrence that he wanted to wait until the media circus died down to go anywhere, then he’d hung up and had to listen to Murdock rant that Ryder wasn’t holding up his end.

Ryder had reminded Murdock that he knew what he was doing.

Sabrina hadn’t said a word, willing to accept Ryder’s take on the situation, but the wait had made for a tension-filled hour until Terrence called back.  

Hubrecht had extended an invitation to Ryder and his new bride to come stay at the family home in Buckhead, the old money district of Atlanta.

Jackpot.

Even Murdock had been impressed.

Yep, this mission had been rocking along until now. Terrence had said Hubrecht was sending the Van Dyke family limo, which sounded considerate to people unaware of Hubrecht’s rabid need for control.

So where was Carlton, the man who normally drove for them?

Ryder paused at the car door. “Who are you?”

Bianca released Ryder’s arm and gave him an appalled look at his abrupt question.

The driver answered, “I’m Jacques. Carlton was required elsewhere.”

A reasonable answer, and Carlton could be busy with someone else in the family since all of them ranked higher than Ryder, but Ryder trusted no one. He glanced around, checking for anything out of the ordinary, but how would he know what was normal after the past six months? He nodded at the driver, then took Bianca’s elbow, helping her as she slid inside the car with him right behind.

When the limo pulled away, Ryder hit the button to engage the tinted privacy window.

Bianca pulled off her sunglasses and kicked off her spiked heels. She squeezed her toes, then flexed them, drawing his gaze to legs that were, indeed, smokin’.

For a federal agent.

She turned to Ryder, putting a hand on his thigh as she did.

Out of an ingrained reaction, he growled under his breath, “Get your hand off me.” The muscles in his chest tightened and irrational thoughts burst into his head. He didn’t allow anyone to touch him without invitation.

She snatched her hand back, but didn’t scoot away like he’d have expected.

“Jeez,” she blew the pseudo-curse out on a frustrated breath.

He shook his head. “What?”

“I was only going to suggest we play some music, but it might be a wasted effort at this point.”

She was talking about covering their conversation with music, and she was right. He punched buttons until rock music fed into their area at a low volume, but still she just sat there.

The longer she spent turned toward him, staring without saying a word, the more his frustration built.

He dropped his voice so low she had to lean forward again, just to hear him. “Look, two days is not enough time to decompress from a place where everybody you live with wants to kill you.” He glanced toward the driver, fairly certain their conversation was shielded, but took care with his words. “
I
wasn’t the one who pushed this timeline past the edge of stupid. So what do you expect?”

“Nothing—”  

He took a breath, anything to calm the tension ratcheting tighter across his chest by the minute. They had to make this work. He whispered, “Let’s keep our voices down even with the music going. What do you mean by nothing?”

Lowering her voice even more, she said, “Right now I expect nothing and that’s exactly what I’m getting, which makes me wonder how long it’s going to take for this entire operation to go up in flames.”  She sat back against the seat but turned her head to him. “I’m not seeing the person who claimed he could make this work. Guess it’s a good thing you got your
file clerk
who’s
capable
of carrying her end of the load.”

He angled his head down to her, his voice for her ears only. “Let’s be clear. You seriously believe your performance fooled the family minister? Did you really think I was blowing smoke when I said he’d be on the phone with Hubrecht giving his report as soon as he sealed the deal?”  

Bianca swallowed hard.

Ryder ran a hand through his hair. “We might have screwed this right out of the gate. I’m just praying he thought you were a nervous bride.”

“Understatement of the freaking century.”  

He took a look at her, really looked at her, and took a mental step back. She hadn’t wanted to do this, just been in the wrong place at the wrong time when his anger was firing at any FBI target.

This couldn’t be easy for her either. He pinched the bridge of his nose and considered pulling her to him to protect their words, but he didn’t know how she’d react so he quietly gritted out, “I get that no matter how much I said otherwise, you still believe you can yank me out of a cell, dress me up and trot me out as your front man and they’ll let you waltz right through Van Dyke security.”  

A blush crept over Bianca’s face. At least she had
some
shame.

He went on. “But this whole escapade won’t last an hour if you cringe when I get close—”

She swung her face up to his, interjecting, “
Or
if your head spins around just because your
wife
touches you.”    

He’d always loved the feel of a woman’s hands on his body and missed it. Had missed it for five long months, well, nine if he was counting before prison. He muttered, “Guess I didn’t realize how hard it would be to fake caring for a woman who believes I killed a man in cold blood.”

Pain flashed through Bianca’s eyes before the poker face of Agent Brady fell back into place. Shit, this was getting harder by the minute when it should start feeling easier.

Swallowing against the frustration vibrating his skin, Ryder tapped his fingers on the seat between them.

If the two of them didn’t find common ground for this op, it would be over before he had a chance to find the truth.

Every mission required some sacrifice.

Pretending to be
this
federal agent’s happily married husband stretched the seams of his tolerance, but he’d have to push his anger away for any hope of making headway with her.

Still, he wasn’t apologizing. “Let’s back up. I hear you, and I’ve got my end of this,
Bianca
.”

She snorted. “That’s encouraging.”  

“What’s your point?”

Turning to him, her face lost all humor. Her eyes flicked over her shoulder at the front of the limo then back to him. Her words were soft and full of passion. “My point is that this is important. A lot of lives depend on what we do. I thought you were serious about this deal. I need to know that you aren’t just treating it like a week’s vacation from prison.”

He leaned toward her, noting how she didn’t retreat. She had more backbone than he’d expected with her background. “I
am
serious. Dead serious.”  He paused, considering his next move, then cupped her face and drew her to him so he could whisper right into her ear. When she didn’t shove him away, he said, “I have every intention of getting you inside the Van Dyke offices. But that won’t happen unless they believe this marriage—from
your
end as well as mine.”

Her breath brushed his ear. “Tell me something you haven’t said before, Van Dyke.”

“How do you plan to convince them when you can’t even call me by my first name?”

She was silent for several seconds. “Okay ...
Ryder
.”

He blew out a breath. That was as good as she could do? She was never going to pull it off. Not without him stepping up his game.

She offered, “How about a truce?”

“I’m listening.”

“I won’t spend the next seven days treating you like a murder suspect and you don’t spend that time treating me as if I’m the one who put you in this position. This wasn’t something I wanted to do, but you refused anyone but me. So I’m here. I’m ready, but I’m only willing to give to a point.”

He’d been telling the truth when he’d told Murdock that his family and Hubrecht’s people would spot an agent, but the only reason he’d refused to take anyone else was because Bianca Brady had been so passionate on the witness stand that he believed she really was after the truth.

He needed to bring a woman who would accept the possibility that someone else killed Kearn if she saw evidence with her own eyes.

What he hadn’t planned on was to feel any remorse over forcing her to do something outside of her expertise.

He finally moved his head back to face her and said, “Truce.”

She rolled her eyes.

Now what? “Thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is,” she admitted and placed a hand on his shoulder, tilting forward another inch. “This truce will move along much smoother if you give me more than one syllable answers.”

“Like what?” He sank his fingers deeper into her hair, watching to see if she’d react.

She stilled for a moment then met his gaze without blinking and came closer until they were cheek to cheek again. “Let’s talk about what we have to do,
Ryder
. How soon do you think we can get inside the Van Dyke headquarters?”

How was he supposed to think about anything except how much he’d like to feel more than that soft cheek with her so close to him? But he’d just accused her of not carrying her part. He had to keep his mind on track even if his body had derailed the minute he touched her. “I’ll know better once I speak to Hubrecht and gain his trust. First I have to convince him I
want
to be back in the family fold.”

She pulled back. Her eyes sliced him into pieces, but managed to keep her terse words discreet. “We don’t have forever to do this, and your family obviously doesn’t trust you any more than I do or they wouldn’t have required this dog and pony show.”  

He lost interest in the fine texture of her hair and cupped her head, drawing her in so she didn’t miss a word. “Your lack of trust is exactly what I’ve been talking about. You’re lousy at hiding your feelings,
Bianca
, and I’ll tell you right now, it’s
not
just me. The only people Lady Anne and Hubrecht allow inside their home are family in the truest sense of the word, staff that has been around since they married, or business associates that have been screened—”

Bianca broke in with, “While we’re on that topic, why do you call your mother Lady Anne?”

“Because Dragon Lady was taken, and we
aren’t
on that topic. I told you, Hubrecht allows no strangers near the Van Dyke properties, particularly the corporate offices. He might, however, agree to give my new wife a tour.
If
we can make him believe it’s real,” he allowed.

The silent pause convinced him he’d finally gotten the last word with her until Bianca said in a pert but hushed voice, “You better hope so or you’re walking back into prison in seven days with no more deals from Murdock if this fails.”

Breaking out of his hold, she dropped back against the seat and shoved her sunglasses back in place.

Yep, Agent Brady had shown up with guns locked and loaded.

Tossing prison in his face just pissed him off all over again. So much for a truce. He turned to get up close in her face again. “You’re so sure about your research that you’re willing to send an innocent man away for the rest of his life? Must be nice to have a flexible conscience.”

She looked wounded for all of two seconds then came back with, “I only gather information, analyze and follow the logic trail. Decisions are up to a judge and jury.”

“Decisions are based upon the information provided by experts, even if that information is lacking or jaded, or driven by the wrong motive.”

Clearly, he’d struck some sort of nerve with that one, because she clenched her jaw shut and sat back. He dropped his head back, staring at the darkening sky through the sunroof.

She was wrong about him returning to prison.

He’d accepted the FBI’s deal for one reason. He intended to use the next seven days to prove his innocence.

Once he did, he’d have a chance of convincing the Feds to look at evidence he believed would clear him of Boyd’s death.

If that didn’t happen, Ryder would disappear.

He was not going back in a cage.

CHAPTER 5

How could I have agreed to this?

Give Bianca a computer and she controlled her world.

She hadn’t expected a fake marriage to take a toll on her emotions, but Ryder was back to being just as quiet and dark as he’d been the first time she laid eyes on him.

He hated her.

Okay she got that, even if his being in prison wasn’t her fault, but she had no idea what was coming around the next corner of this charade and needed more information than she was getting.

How were they going to do this if they couldn’t even talk for ten minutes without sniping at each other?

He was right. He’d looked at her during the ceremony like he was crazy about her, and he’d kissed her like he meant it. All she’d managed was stiff compliance, because ... dammit, he’d rattled her.

Wouldn’t that sound lame coming from a federal agent? She wasn’t about to admit out loud that she was damaged when it came to men, but Ryder might be more forthcoming if she did a better job with her end of acting in love.

The only reference she had for marriage was her parents.

She and Ryder could never pull off an impression of
that
kind of love match, but they had to be able to convince people they liked each other.

Her lack of experience with men would be a liability if she didn’t settle down. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had a man in her life, only that her one foray into a deep relationship hadn’t given her any tactical information to draw on for the role of
happy
bride.

That didn’t matter.

Everyone was depending on her to come through.

Lives would be saved by finding the evidence Murdock trusted her to locate.