Kiss the Bride (31 page)

Delaney looked absolutely, totally stunning in that white dress and wedding veil.

Nick stared at the veil. When she walked, it looked as if a hundred white butterflies were fluttering up around her. She looked like magic, pure and perfect. And he wanted her with the same seven-year-old fervency he had wanted his mother not to die. If he didn’t stop her from marrying Van Zandt, he feared his heart would never, ever recover.

Delaney’s father put her hand in Van Zandt’s and stepped back to take a seat in the front row.

Nick stopped making his way around the side of the packed pews, every muscle in his body tensed as he heard the portly minister say, “Dearly beloved…”

But that was as far as the man got.

A loud noise, like someone tripping over tin cans stacked high behind the exit door to the left of the altar, drew everyone’s attention in that direction.

The minister paused.

The exit door flew open and a man dressed in black jeans, a long-sleeved black button-down shirt, black boots, and a black ski mask came tumbling out. He looked as out of place as a chunk of charcoal in a basket of marshmallows.

The guests heaved a collective gasp.

Anger shook him. Dammit. Trudie must have forgotten to cancel her nephew, Louie. Either that or she hadn’t trusted Nick to get Delaney out of this mess of her own
making. That was a fine state of affairs. Now what was he going to do?

Before Nick had time to formulate a plan, Louie was at the altar waving a gun around. He hoped like hell it was a prop gun, because if it wasn’t, whenever he got his hands on Louie he was going to make him sorry he ever agreed to this fake kidnapping.

Poor Van Zandt looked scared out of his wits. He was trembling and blinking and just standing there impotently letting it all play out. If Nick had been up there, he would have charged the guy.

So charge him anyway. Put a stop to this nonsense.

Nick ran.

But some woman had her purse in the aisle and he tripped over it. His knee crumbled. He cursed but immediately got back up.

Louie was already dragging Delaney out the exit. The crowd was on their feet, everyone following after them.

The mob bottlenecked at the exit door, and Nick knew it was time for another plan. Ignoring the pain shooting through his knee, he did an about-face and headed back in the direction he’d come, dodging the guests surging forward.

Somehow, he made it out to his pickup just in time to spy a white delivery van careering out of the parking lot with Louie at the wheel.

Nick started his engine, popped the clutch into gear, and sped off after them.

The nondescript white delivery van roared from the church parking lot. Jim Bob Cartwright stared after it, his mind numb. “Someone call 911. My daughter’s been kidnapped!” he intended to shout to the clump of tuxedoed
crowd gawking at him, but his throat squeezed so tight he could not speak.

Honey wrapped her hand around his wrist. “We’ve got to get out of here, James Robert. Right now.”

“No, no,” he gasped and clung to her arm. “Must call police. FBI. Delaney’s been kidnapped.”

Honey lowered her voice. “Listen to me. We can’t call in the authorities.”

Jim Bob stared at her, uncomprehending. “What?”

“We can’t call the police.”

Was his wife afraid of public embarrassment? The vein at his forehead throbbed suddenly, violently. He let go of her, stepped back, and fisted his hands. Was Honey actually worried about how this was going to reflect on her? Was she more concerned about appearances than her daughter’s safety?

Disgust sickened his stomach. “Why in the hell not?”

“Please, James Robert.” Her eyes beseeched him. It had been a very long time since he’d seen her this vulnerable, and it scared him. “Just take me home.”

“No, no. We have to call the authorities. Someone just kidnapped our daughter.”

“We
can’t.
” Fear drew her mouth tight, creased the fine wrinkles around her eyes. She looked haunted, hunted.

“What is it, Honey? What’s wrong?”

“I know who took Delaney.”

He watched her—confused, nervous, heart pounding. Beneath his tuxedo, sweat plastered his shirt to his back.

Honey hitched in a fragile breath that sounded strangely like the frantic beat of hummingbird wings. “And I know why she took her. She took her because of me. ”

“She? It was a man who kidnapped Delaney.”

“Hired thug.”

“What?”

Honey swayed and Jim Bob was afraid she would collapse. Instinctively, he circled his arm around her waist. “Are you all right?”

“This heat. Get me out of here.”

“We have to call the cops,” he said. “I’m going to call the cops.”

“No.” Her voice was soft, yet shrill.

He ignored her protest, turned to the crowd around them. The longer they waited, the farther Delaney got from them. “Does anyone have a cell phone I can use?”

A half dozen people thrust cell phones at him, but before Jim Bob could grab one, Honey tugged him in the direction of their car, her fingernails digging into his skin.

He balked, digging his heels into the pavement.

“James Robert,” she said through gritted teeth, “don’t buck me on this.”

He studied her face, regal, proud, well preserved yet suddenly looking every bit of her fifty-three years. This was the first time in years he’d seen her looking so unguarded, so full of pain and hunger and desperation. She was a mystery to him. Always had been and he feared she always would be.

“I’m tired of tiptoeing around you, Honey,” he growled. “Tired of pretending we don’t have a big problem with our marriage. Tired of kowtowing and trying to please you. It’s impossible. Nothing pleases you.”

“Stop,” she hissed, shifting her gaze to the gawking crowd gathered behind them.

“Why? Afraid of a little public embarrassment? Is that it? You’d rather save face than save your daughter?”

Honey’s cheeks blanched so pale Jim Bob thought she
might faint. He felt like an utter shit and rushed to slide his arm around her once more.

His wife rested her head against his shoulder, pressed her lips against his ear, and whispered hoarsely, “We can’t call the cops because I’m being blackmailed.”

“You’re not Trudie’s nephew,” Delaney exclaimed to the man who’d snatched her from the chapel.

“Surprise, surprise.”

“Where’s Louie?”

“I dunno. Who’s Louie?”

“You’re not working for Trudie?”

“No.”

“I think you’ve abducted the wrong bride.”

“No, I haven’t.” He pulled a piece of paper from his front pocket. “Delaney Lynn Cartwright. That’s you, right?”

“Pull this van over right now and let me out of here,” she commanded in her best imitation of her mother.

“Sorry.” He shook his head, thick with dark, shaggy hair. “No can do.”

“You’re kidnapping me for real? This isn’t some prank?”

He eyed her in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”

How had this happened? What was going on?
“Who in the hell are you?”

“There’s no need for you to know my name.”

“So what am I supposed to call you? Here, kidnapper, kidnapper, kidnapper?”

He laughed. “Cute, but it’s not going to work. You ain’t getting my name.”

“Maybe I’ll just call you Little Dick,” she said, feeling
a million miles away from her old self. In spite of being kidnapped, she was feeling spunky and relieved. This guy didn’t know her. She could say anything. Be anyone. It was a surprisingly freeing thought.

“Hey!” he snapped. “Five and a half inches is average-sized!”

“Little Dick.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Why? What are you going to do? Kill me?”

“Not if you don’t give me a good reason. Word to the wise, calling me Little Dick is bordering on a good reason.”

“You’re right,” she said. “Excuse me. My bad manners.”

How ridiculous! Here she was, apologizing to a kidnapper. It took a lot to totally shake off a lifetime of indoctrination in proper etiquette. Although, she doubted Emily Post had penned anything on kidnapping protocol.

“Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Too bad.”

“Remove these handcuffs,” she demanded and then added, “Please.”

“Nope.”

“They’re hurting my wrists.”

“You’ll live, princess.”

“Let me go. I’ll pay you.”

He didn’t answer.

“I have money.”

“It’s not just about that.”

“No? What else is it about then?”

“Not my place to tell you.”

“Are you an enemy of my father? Is this some business deal gone awry?”

“Nope.” He sounded too damn casual. “Now be a good girl and just sit back and relax.”

Oh, God, this guy really was kidnapping her for real. What were the odds of someone plotting to kidnap her on her wedding day? The exact same day she’d already hired someone to kidnap her? Impossibly high and suspiciously coincidental.

Suddenly the kidnapper sped up and Delaney was thrown backward onto the floorboards again. Real terror struck her then. Hard and coppery-tasting.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“Some asshole is chasing us.”

“Where?” Delaney twisted around and tried to peer out the back of the van, but a dirty window and the lace veil blocked her view. She’d wished on it for a way out of her impending marriage and she’d gotten her wish, but certainly not in the way she had expected.

What was it Claire Kelley had said? You get your most heartfelt wish, not necessarily the thing you wished for most. Maybe this was cosmic punishment for wishing on the veil when she’d promised Claire she wouldn’t.

She crawled to the back of the van with an unformed plan for escape, her handcuffed wrists held out in front to brace herself in case she fell over again. The progress was slow because the train of her dress kept wadding up underneath her. She would shuffle forward a bit, stop, pull the nest of collected material out from under her knees, and shuffle forward again. Just as she reached the back window, the nut job behind the wheel swerved crazily and she went down, weeble-wobbling into the side of the van.

“Drive like a human being,” she hollered. “My parents won’t pay you a single dime if I’m dead.”

The word “dead” echoed in the empty confines of the
van, and for the first time the true reality of the situation struck Delaney.

“He’s trying to cut me off,” the kidnapper whined.

Hope vaulted into her chest. Was it someone from the wedding party out to save her? Could it be her daddy? Was it Evan? Oh, dear, how could she ever look her fiancé in the eyes again once he learned she’d hired someone to kidnap her? “Who’s trying to cut you off?”

“Some son of a bitch in a red Ford pickup truck. Friend of yours?”

That tenuous hope blossomed into full-blown optimistic joy. Her heart sang.

Nick!

But how could it be Nick? He hadn’t been invited to the wedding. He didn’t even know where it was being held.

He’s a cop, he could figure it out.

But why would Nick be after her?

Her mind spun a crazy fantasy worthy of
The Graduate.
Nick had come to rescue her from an ill-conceived wedding in the tradition of Leo and Lucia. Only to discover she’d already hired Louie to take her hostage. Except that had gone haywire, and now she was being spirited away by some unknown kidnapper. What the hell kind of wish-fulfilling magic threads was the veil made out of?

She had to get a look out that window and see if it was indeed Nick. Delaney finally made it over to the back window for a peek outside just as the red pickup truck pulled into the left lane beside the delivery van. All she could see was the bumper.

Bummer.

“The red truck,” she called to the driver, “can you see the dashboard?”

“Lady, it’s taking all my concentration to keep us from getting run off the road.”

“Look in your side-view mirror. Can you tell if there’s a hula girl shimmying away on his dashboard?”

“I can’t tell. Hold on. I see something. Yep, there’s a hula girl shaking it up on his dashboard. Mean something to you?”

Hello, it was her Nick! Shaking things up.

Her insides knotted with emotion. She felt giddy and scared and happy and surprised and so many other things she couldn’t even name them all.

The right front and back tires of the van veered off the road and rattled along the shoulder. Delaney ended up toppling over again. At this rate, she might as well stay on the floor until Nick got her out of this mess.

The van was making ominous noises, tires thrumming against the uneven asphalt. The smell of tar melting hotly in the August sun burned her nose. Delaney’s mouth tasted of dry anxiety. Her knees and elbows stung from carpet burn. The driver was twisting the van to and fro, trying to outrun Nick.