WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING (5 page)

“You don’t look all that happy about it.”

“It was a last-minute decision. We moved gifts and a few other things in today to make tomorrow easier.”

There was more to it. His instincts warned he needed to know. “But?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but her phone interrupted them this time. Her smile when she checked the message led him to believe all was well with her daughter. Then it faded and she paled.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing serious.”

He wasn’t convinced, but he wasn’t sure how hard to push. They were supposed to be new friends. “If there’s something I can do, say the word.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure it’s just a mix-up.” She shook her head, her blond hair swinging, but the smile on her lips didn’t reach those stunning blue eyes. She tucked the phone into her pocket rather than her purse this time. “I’ll just be glad when it all comes together tomorrow night.”

“I’m sure everyone will have a great time.”

She raised her crossed fingers. “And drink enough champagne to write big checks.”

He laughed with her. “I left my checkbook at home.”

She grinned up at him. “You’ve done enough already. My family and a few close friends bought tickets. It will be nice to see them.”

Holt almost tripped.
Close friends?
Who could she mean? It would be bad enough kidnapping her out from under the combined noses of her brother and daughter.

“You aren’t very convincing,” he said, taking her hand in his as they walked along. It felt too right, too real. This was more than he’d bargained for and he was so much less than she deserved.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve chattered about myself enough for one night.”

“Come on. I’m intrigued.” He
needed
to know so he could be prepared. “Maybe we should make a plan so I can be a diversion.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“It’s not a big deal.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “They mean well and I know they love me. But no one seems very enthused about me getting on with my life.”

“Because you’re bringing a date to a charity event?”

“No.” Her lips twisted in a wry grin. “Because they don’t know I’m dating anyone seriously.” Her eyes met his. “Tomorrow could get interesting.”

He was sure of it. He’d carefully navigated the dating world so no woman would think to classify him as a serious prospect. He was the man women instinctively knew as the fun-while-it-lasted sort. It counted as a success that his efforts to woo Cecelia were convincing, but it unnerved him, as well.

He didn’t want her to get hurt—by him or the ugly necessities of the op he was working out. Usually the mission was all that mattered to him. A hell of a time for
this
to happen.

Keeping an eye out for Isely’s muscle, he felt the cold, calculating gazes of a surveillance team as they walked down King Street. His instincts were prickling, raising the hair at the back of his neck. Isely was obviously determined to take Cecelia as soon as possible.

Holt wondered at the rushed timeline and knew he’d have to get to a computer soon and see what he could dig up. Maybe Jason Grant’s inquiries had set off some kind of alert on Isely’s end of this dreadful business. The way things were going, it wouldn’t surprise him to have inadvertently sabotaged himself.

In the reflection of a shop window, Holt recognized the man following them as one of Isely’s personal bodyguards. The dark sedan that rolled by with government plates was probably a protection detail for Cecelia, courtesy of Director Casey. Just up the block, Holt spotted two more of Isely’s men approaching.

Rock, meet hard place.

The dark wool jackets over jeans and heavy boots made as much of a statement to an informed operative as a uniform with flashing name tags.

Holt knew Isely typically valued subtlety and he felt the unfamiliar twist of worry at this abrupt change in the man’s method and instruction to his crew. Some new development had to be creating this urgency.

The man had been groomed to lead one of the primary black-market operations in Europe. Vengeance had its place, but even Bernard Isely had to know it paid to keep a cool head no matter the circumstances.

Swing music poured from speakers above a little club two doors down the street. He squeezed Cecelia’s hand. “Want to dance?”

“Here?”

“Here could work.” He did a quick twirl of their hands that brought her right up against him. She let out a soft gasp that lit a fire in his blood. The move put a sparkle in those big blue eyes and had the added benefit of suggesting both teams should take a step back. He brushed his cheek with hers to murmur in her ear, “But I was thinking in there would be better.”

“Hmm. I could be persuaded.”

“Good to know.” Now they just had to cross the short distance without Isely’s men doing anything stupid.

It was too much to hope for.

Isely employed them primarily for their willingness to follow orders without questions. If he’d hoped for the same blind cooperation from Holt, he was about to be disappointed. The bigger guy in the faded navy peacoat shouldered him—hard—as they passed. The contact was enough to jostle him against Cecelia and he had to reach out to keep her from bouncing into another couple on the street.

The guy had good hands, but Holt knew the burner phone had been lifted and replaced with a new one. What new intel had bothered Isely enough to take that kind of precaution?

Holt didn’t have more time to think about it. The shorter man had grabbed Cecelia’s purse and was tugging both the purse and the woman toward the narrow side street that cut through to the next block.

“Let go!” Holt shouted. He didn’t care which one of them complied, but he sure as hell didn’t want to get into a fight right here in the middle of King Street.

He heard the squeal of tires and imagined the director’s surveillance team would be on them any moment. Cecelia shouted for the police and Holt noticed more than one onlooker pulling out a phone. To help or simply upload a mugging to the internet didn’t really matter. He wasn’t about to let this become a public spectacle.

He threw his body weight into the struggle and drove both Cecelia and the would-be thief into the narrow side street and out of view.

The tall thug closed in behind him.

“Give us the woman,” he growled, shoving Holt forward into Cecelia.

Accelerated timetable or not, Holt refused to hand over Cecelia to this pair. They were too rough around the edges and they looked too hungry. Had Isely put a bounty on her head? Spinning around, he raised his fist and drove a right hook into the tall man’s ear.

The man staggered to the side, landing hard against the brick of the nearest building. The guy hadn’t expected Holt to resist. Gave him a few seconds to rescue Cecelia.

But she was holding her own. He watched, stunned, as she used her strong grip on her purse straps to jerk her assailant closer and down, while she drove her knee up into his groin.

“Good girl,” he said, coming to her side. He urged her toward the other end of the alley. If the squealing tires had been a team watching Cecelia, they weren’t rushing in to help. He made a note to analyze it later. Right now they needed to escape. On the next street they could catch a cab and be safely out of reach in less than twenty minutes.

But the sound of glass breaking brought Holt back around.

The taller man wasn’t giving up.

“Hand her over.” He waved the bottle and charged, the sharp green edge coming closer, closer, until at the last moment, Holt blocked and turned. Determined, the taller man lurched back to his feet, advancing more cautiously this time.

Holt circled, keeping his face to the bottle-wielding thug and trying to get a line of sight on the other man. The shorter of their assailants squared up, flashing a knife.

Damn it
. “Call nine-one-one,” he barked at Cecelia. Drawing his weapon would blow his cover with her.

As Cecelia made the call, Holt evaluated each man, looking for a weakness he could exploit quickly so they could get out of here before agents, authorities or helpful citizens decided to intervene.

The man with the knife was weaker, but wary. Holt feinted left, and the knife flashed wide of his hip. Holt kicked out and caught the man’s knee, and the knife skidded away as the thug crumpled. Cecelia snatched up the weapon.

“Keep that one down,” he told her. Neither he nor Cecelia would be here to give a report, but these two deserved a night in jail.

He heard shouts on the street and a siren in the distance. Time was running out for them to get away cleanly. Cecelia was too well known in the area and the last complication he needed was local law enforcement.

The man swung wild, panicking with Holt’s resistance and the warning that cops were on the way, and the jagged green edge caught at Holt’s coat, dragging at the sleeve. Following the motion, he used the taller man’s momentum to carry his fist into the hard steel of the trash bin.

The man howled with pain, but Holt used a quick series of uppercuts into his gut, robbing him of air and instantly silencing him. While he clutched his stomach, gasping for air, Holt drove another roundhouse into his jaw. The attacker slumped to the pavement, unconscious.

Holt turned back to find Cecelia pressing a Taser to the other assailant’s thigh. The lady was more prepared than he’d suspected. “Nice job. Let’s go.”

“But the police—”

“Can take care of it.”

Sirens wailed closer and he caught the flash of lights. Just what he
didn’t
need tonight: the fastest response time of Alexandria’s finest. The longer he could prevent Cecelia from learning his real identity and purpose here, the better.

“Let’s go. Your charity doesn’t need this kind of bad publicity.”

She gave him a strange look but she cooperated, rushing through the narrow lane to join the foot traffic on the next street.

They walked briskly for another block before he flagged a cab and opened the door for her to slide in ahead of him. “Your place or mine?”

When she didn’t immediately respond, he opened his mouth, ready to offer the address for the Plaza, but she surprised him.

“Yours.”

He struggled not to fidget or show his surprise over her choice as he gave the address for the marina where he kept his boat moored.

What in bloody hell did he do now?

Chapter Six

Mission Recovery Offices, 10:21 p.m.

Thomas jerked to attention when the phone rang in the outer office. He’d sent his assistant home hours ago, instead calling on Holt’s assistant, Nadine, to fill in.

“The surveillance team on the line for you, sir,” Nadine said.

She’d resisted and tried to make excuses for not staying, but he’d given her an ultimatum: cooperate or resign. Her decision confirmed Nadine wasn’t the mole and she’d answered all of his questions about what Holt had been asking her to do.

Unfortunately for Thomas, she didn’t know too much. Holt wasn’t careless and he didn’t rely on Nadine for all of his scheduling. Based on the information she did have, Thomas sent another Specialist to cover the few hours of reconnaissance Holt had asked Nadine to handle. The appointed observation target had been Cecelia’s house.

Thomas picked up the phone when the call transferred. “Report.”

“We’ve lost her, Director.”

Thomas picked up the painted plaster paperweight on his desk and nearly heaved it at the door before remembering it was a long-ago handmade gift from his niece.

“What happened?”

“You know her GPS isn’t working on her cell?”

“No surprise,” he barked. “How the hell did you lose her in the first place?”

“Everything was fine. We picked her up when she left the Plaza. She met her friends on schedule, but she stayed after they left the bar.”

“And?”

“She eventually left the bar with Deputy Director Holt.”

Thomas fisted his hand around the phone. “Where did they go?”

He rubbed his forehead with his free hand, unsure what he wanted to hear. He had a hard time believing Holt would hurt Cecelia on a professional level, and yet Holt wasn’t the dating type. At least he’d never dated someone like Cecelia before.

Not to mention that damned chatter about her being the target of a kidnapping attempt.

Damn it!

“They went to dinner at Ray’s.”

Thomas struggled to calm himself. “Best steaks in Old Town.”

“Yes, sir. We uploaded pictures of two men loitering near the restaurant.”

“I saw those.” He’d been waiting over an hour for the facial recognition software to spit out something useful.

“One of them went inside about a half hour before Mrs. Manning and Holt came out.”

“No one got any audio on the dinner?”

“Impossible, sir, unless we’d joined them at the table.”

“Understood.” Some logistics couldn’t be out-maneuvered, especially on short notice. “Do we have anything?”

The Specialist on the other end of the line hesitated. “Not much. We have prints and faces on the two men who tried to steal your sister’s purse as she walked back to her hotel.”

“She was mugged?”

“No, sir. The assailants were subdued.”

“Was she hurt? What about Holt?”

“I don’t have a clear answer yet. As I said, we’ve lost her trail. By the time we hit the scene, the potential victims were gone and the assailants unconscious.”

“You left them for the local police to deal with.”

“Yes, sir. Seemed like the best option.”

Thomas agreed. “So the man hired to kidnap my sister might have just accomplished the job?” It didn’t help matters any that Holt had been highly trained in evasion techniques and could effectively disappear without a trace in less than an hour.

After Nadine had spilled her sketchy information, Thomas had gone through Holt’s office with a critical eye. An extra identity remained in Holt’s office safe, but Thomas knew there should have been at least one more, and the cash earmarked for emergencies was gone.

He wasn’t prone to displays of temper, but he was about to lose it this time. This was his sister they’d lost. Every scattered bit of information he had said she was likely in the clutches of a traitor. A traitor with skills and a past no brother wanted to think about.

“Do we have anything close to a lead?”

“No, sir. We’re about to run down cab companies. It’s the fastest way they could clear the area.”

“Or the bus or—”

“No, we’ve hacked those cameras. She hasn’t boarded any of the shuttles or the metro.”

It could be worse. That was the prime source of his problem, knowing exactly how much worse it could be. The betrayal cut deep. He had handpicked Emmett Holt to replace Lucas when he retired. How the hell could he have been so wrong about a guy with a pristine record?

He let the two agents he’d put on her go do their jobs. Nadine was monitoring the police scanner in the area, but he also tasked an analyst downstairs with the same job to make sure she didn’t miss or withhold anything he needed to know.

His cell phone chimed with a new text message. He grabbed it, ready to chew Lia out for turning off her GPS and dodging the protective tail, only to see Casey’s number on the display.

He dialed her number when he saw the message:
Call when you can.

“Hello,” he said warmly, trying not to let on that her mother was missing. “Did Levi’s flight get in on time?”

“Yeah. We’re great. Mom moved over to the hotel tonight.”

“I know.”

“Thought you might. Does the team in the van have any crime-scene equipment?”

“What van?”

“Mom says there’s been a van parked in front of the Millers’ place for days. She assumed they were here on your orders.”

“It wasn’t me.” Damn it. What exactly had Holt put into motion?

“Levi and I can check it out.”

She sounded too ready for action. “Wait. Just leave it alone. I’ll have someone deal with the van. Why didn’t you call the police if you need a crime tech?”

“Because we’re not sure we have a crime.”

“Explain.”

Casey took a big breath that rushed across the line. “We found a bug in the kitchen, then searched the house and found two more. The office and the bedroom.”

Thomas cringed at the implications of those positions. Cecelia didn’t work with sensitive information in her current position at the CIA, but that would change if she made the switch to ops.

“Go on.”

“It’s just a hunch, but I think someone’s been here. Obviously to plant the bugs, but I mean tonight, when I went to the airport to pick up Levi.”

If someone had been in the house, why hadn’t the Specialist he’d assigned reported anything? His first instinct was to get over there and take a look personally. He used his computer to message Nadine, asking her to get a status report.

“I’m probably overreacting. It’s not like I can point to any one thing and say it’s out of place, but I just feel like a few things have been searched. I sent Mom a text, but she hasn’t replied yet.”

His jaw clenched. Being kidnapped had a tendency to interfere with messaging capabilities. “Did you check the safe?”

“Yes. It’s fine. I’m thinking we got home before they found it.”

“Was anything missing or...” He didn’t know quite how to finish the question. Security clearances for the job were one thing, but no matter how much field experience an agent had, investigating family was different.

“Everything looked the same to me. Well, almost the same.”

Thomas thought he recognized the problem. “Was her wedding ring in there?”

“Yeah,” Casey replied softly.

He had noticed Cecelia wasn’t wearing the ring. Obviously Casey hadn’t. That was going to be hard for her even though she would want her mother to be happy and to move one with her life. “You okay?”

“Sure.” She sniffled. “It’s just weird she’s moving on.”

“Only she can know when it’s time.”

“Oh, please. Don’t try and go all wise on me. I know it bugs you, too.”

“A little,” he admitted. William had been like a brother, but he was gone now. Cecelia deserved to live the rest of her life. Just not like this.

Mostly because it was Holt. That wasn’t entirely true. Up until a few weeks ago, Holt had his utmost respect. Now, as Thomas peeled back the layers on cases going back to June, he was starting to get a picture of a very different man. A man who was in bed with a very dangerous enemy.

Isely had every reason to hate Thomas, and it appeared he had bottomless resources to fund the revenge he’d promised years ago. The financial picture was still coming in, but it was clear Isely’s deals since taking over the family business had been savvy, private and lucrative.

“Your mom’s smart. She’ll find her way. The best thing we can do is keep supporting her.” He hoped he hadn’t already let her down.

“Right. You’ve got her covered tonight?”

“Sure thing,” he lied. How in the hell was he going to fix this?

“I’m meeting her late tomorrow morning. We have a mini spa thing at the Plaza.”

“Sounds good. Can Levi stay at the house? Keep it covered in case whoever planted those bugs comes back?”

“We already decided that was best.”

“Great minds,” Thomas said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“We will. See you tomorrow night, Uncle Thomas.”

“Can’t wait.”

Thomas stared at the phone when the call ended. He should get out to Alexandria, but something—that gut instinct he’d learned to trust—told him to wait.

Instead, he called in a favor with the local police. They could check on any cars that didn’t belong in Cecelia’s neighborhood. Then he picked up his cell phone and called his wife to give her an update on the degrading situation.

Hearing her voice would be the only thing good about this night.