Shiva (2 page)

Was this really her? Was this really happening? Then she looked down at her long white wedding dress. Okay, not exactly pure white. She was in her thirties
,
and Brandt had just received an annulment from a woman who claimed to be carrying his baby. So pure white seemed a stretch. Bone white seemed a far more appropriate color. For many, many reasons.

“
Don
’
t you dare start crying,
”
Bunny said, nudging Rebecca away from the mirror.
“
You
’
ve just got to make it twenty
-
one more minutes.
”

Dear God, she was getting married in less than a half hour? Tears threatened. She struggled against them
,
but it was futile. After everything Brandt and she had been through? Chased across continents. Hunted by religious zealots. Hounded by ruthless mercenaries.

In the mirror
’
s reflection
,
Bunny smiled, helping to tuck one loose blond
e
strand back into its proper place. The younger woman
’
s bright
-
red hair also had that sheen only a can of hair spray could produce. Despite trying to keep an upbeat attitude about the day, Rebecca couldn
’
t help but notice Bunny
’
s lean frame and young,
“
I don
’
t need a support garment
”
bustline.

Despite the fact her maid of honor was clothed in a rather uncomplimentary peach
-
colored bridesmaid dress, Bunny radiated beauty. And if anything
,
the other two bridesmaids, Brandt
’
s younger sisters
,
were even prettier. Not beauty pageant pretty. But
“
I swept all the categories in the pageant
”
kind of pretty.

Both were slim with rich dark hair. Rebecca wasn
’
t the prettiest one in the room. Hell, she wasn
’
t even in the top five.

What did Brandt see in her? He had grown up around Southern sophistication. He was used to women who were actual
ladies
. Rebecca
’
s skin chaffed at the lace edging her dress
,
and seriously
,
who wore panty
hose in Charleston in
August
? With a full-length skirt and four
-
foot train, who the hell was going to see her legs?

But Brandt
’
s mother had been quite insistent. Actually
,
she had been quite insistent on everything. From the peach bridesmaids gowns to the nylons to the flowers in Rebecca
’
s bouquet. Nothing about this wedding had been decided by Rebecca
,
and you know what? Rebecca was more than happy about it. She would have just eloped, but Brandt had family
,
and by God
,
his family wanted a Southern wedding.

“
Oops,
”
Bunny said
,
pointing out a red scrape along Rebecca
’
s temple. A wound courtesy of a little
“
outing
”
Bunny and she had taken earlier in the week. It had begun as a simple research trip to Iceland. The theory had been to do some research into a strange Viking connection with the Disciples of Moshe, the religious fanatics
who
had plagued them across Europe. Of course
,
nothing had gone routine about the trip.

But maybe that was what Brandt saw in her. An ability to take a head blow and not faint
—
or at least not for long.

Bunny turned to one of Brandt
’
s stunning sisters. Rebecca was still trying to figure out which was which.
“
Hand me a little cover up, would you?
”

As Bunny applied the extra makeup
,
an itch sprang up in Rebecca
’
s foot and traveled up her calf, settling in her knee. She knew the rules about breathing, let alone moving in her elaborate wedding dress, but she couldn
’
t help it. Rebecca reached her hand down
,
but before a single finger could touch the fabric, a whip
-
slender woman rushed across the room.

“
No, no, no, dear,
”
Mrs. Brandt chided with a
S
outhern drawl. How come if people said things with that drawl you couldn
’
t take offense to it?
“
You must pick up the dress at the sides so that you don
’
t crease the chiffon.
”

Little did her mother-in-law-to-be know that Rebecca had almost dared to
scratch
the fabric. Rebecca decided to keep that little gem of a plan to herself. Because Mrs. Brandt turned out to terrify Rebecca more than any of the aforementioned threats combined.

“
Sorry, ma
’
am,
”
Rebecca mumbled.

“
Do not
ma
’
am
me, young lady,
”
Mrs. Brandt corrected in that silky
-
smooth tone, scolded as only a
S
outherner could.
“
Call me Mama.
”

Yeah, that was never going to happen.

“
Oh no,
”
one of the sisters exclaimed.
“
There
’
s a piece of lint!
”

Apparently
,
in wedding day mode
,
that constituted a five
-
alarm emergency. Brandt
’
s other sister
—
Kaydria, Rebecca thought
—
dove for the lint brush as Mrs. Brandt took a magnifying glass, an actual
magnifying
glass
,
to the wedding dress.

Okay, this was shaping up to be the longest twenty-one minutes of her life. It seemed the entire family was trying to wipe away the memory of Brandt
’
s first awkward overseas marriage by putting on the largest, most glamorous wedding Charleston had ever seen.

Which wasn
’
t easy to do
,
given it was Charleston and this was
t
he Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, the largest church on the southern seaboard. This dressing room alone had enough gilded crosses to give the Vatican a run for its money, and Rebecca would know.

“
Don
’
t worry,
”
Bunny whispered.
“
None of it dates before the eighteenth century.
”
The younger woman gave a wink.
“
I checked.
”

And Bunny would know as well. The redhead was nearly as well versed in proto-Christianity as Rebecca. Which had come in handy several times in the past few months.

Still
,
Rebecca felt compelled to study the religious icons to assess if there wasn
’
t some deeper, hidden code buried in them rather than preparing to get married.

Get married
.

Okay, those two words were really starting to freak her out.

Bunny must have sensed Rebecca
’
s rising anxiety
,
as she tried to herd the Brandt women to the door.
“
I think the bride might need a little air.
”

It looked like Rebecca might get a reprieve from all of the clucking when Holly, Brandt
’
s youngest sister
,
burst into the room.
“
They
’
re still not here!
”

The other women dropped Rebecca
’
s dress and rushed over to the teen.

“
What do you mean?
”
Mrs. Brandt demanded.
“
Vincent said they were stuck in traffic and going to be a tad late
”
—s
he looked to her silver watch
—
”
b
ut the groomsmen should be in position by now.
”

“
Yes,
”
Bunny encouraged,
“
w
hy don
’
t you go see about that
?
”

In a rustle of satin, the mother of the groom and three of Rebecca
’
s bridesmaids rushed from the room as Bunny closed the door behind them.

“
They
’
ll be here on time,
”
Bunny reassured her.

Of that, Rebecca wasn
’
t so sure. This was Brandt
,
after all. If any man on the planet could find a way to get in some kind of international trouble on his wedding day
,
it was her fiancé.

The only thing Rebecca was certain of was that the men weren
’
t stuck in a traffic jam.

With Lopez driving, that was an absolute impossibility.

* * *

Sergeant Vincent Brandt clutched the machine gun to his chest as his other hand grabbed hold of the
train car
’
s panel to keep himself from being hurled out the window
.
Yes, he was clutching a machine gun on his wedding day. That didn
’
t stop t
he train
from
nearly derail
ing
as it took a sixty-degree turn at sixty miles an hour. Physics was not their friend today.

“
Slow it down!
”
Brandt yelled to Lopez but knew that it was futile. Especially as the corporal lashed
out
a hand to catch the video camera before it slid off the console.

“
Gotcha!
”
Lopez announced
, not to Brandt
,
but to the camera as he set it up again
.

Another one of O
peration
’
s bright ideas. Filming their missions. Even though the brand
-
spanking
-
new Ricoh military spec camera was solid state, eyes
-
only encrypted, with a self
-
destruct module, Brandt thought it was possibly the worst idea to come along since, well, since ever. And it didn
’
t help that Lopez was already a little too Evil Kinievel for Brandt
’
s tastes, but now? Now that he was being filmed for posterity? Forget about it.

But the upper brass
’
s new thing was accountability. They wanted proof of
a
mission
’
s
objectives. Brandt thought if they wanted that kind of deal
,
they might want to come out in the field with his team for a week. Strangely
,
no one took him up on his offer.

The crack of a
shot came from the right as
Davidson cursed under his breath. Clearly
,
the priv
ate hadn
’
t hit his driver of the train car in front of them
. How could he? The kid was good
—
damned
good
.
H
owever
,
the train they chased w
as just a speck on the horizon. And strong winds coming in from the east were making any long
-
distance shot reliant on prayer.

Davidson
pulled himself back into the car and
stretched out his scarred fingers, shaking off the pain. How the kid could sho
o
t at all after all those burns was amazing. The fact he could outshoot most snipers with ten years his training? That was about as near a miracle as you could get. Brandt
’
s
lips turned down
as he studied the melted ruin of Davidson
’
s left cheek.