You're Busting My Nuptials (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 2) (27 page)

“Have you told Momma and Daddy about Ommmmmmm?” Tizzy said between gulps of margarita.

Nana smoothed her hair. “No, I want Om to be a surprise.”

Tizzy twirled the bright umbrella from her drink between her fingers. “Oh, he will be.” She stuck the paper parasol behind her ear. “Tell me, Nana. What’s your plan for Ommmmmmm?”

“Marjorie Louise, stop saying his name like that. You’re being disrespectful,” Nana snapped.

“I’m sorry, Nana, but you have to admit this is irrational behavior on your part. You’re not planning to marry this man, are you?”

“Oh heavens no. Not at my age.”

“Thank God,” Tizzy said, relaxing a bit.

“We just plan to live in sin,” Nana said, completely serious.

Tizzy’s eyes went wide. She fanned her face with both hands. “Oh God, oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.” She jumped from her seat and ran for the ladies room. Synola and Rayann right behind her.

A few minutes later, Tizzy cut her eyes toward them while she rinsed vomit from her mouth. “Can you believe this? She has gone completely mad.”

“You don’t think they’re . . . the two of them are . . . you know . . . having . . .” Synola stuttered.

“Ewwww, God no. Don’t say that. Don’t even think it,” Tizzy said. She placed her fingers to her forehead, and quickly tapped them. “Get out! Get out!”

“You want us to get out?” Rayann asked.

“No, I want the visual of my Nana having sex to get out of my brain!”

Synola shook her head. “Yeah, with him on top, that’d be kinda like a ride at Six Flags wouldn’t it?”

“Oh God . . . oh God . . . oh say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,” Tizzy sang at the top of her lungs.

Rayann slanted her eyes at Synola and nodded. They placed their hands over their hearts and joined in.”

When they finished the song, Tizzy splashed her face with water.

“The National Anthem? That’s what you came up with to get rid of the sex vision?” Synola asked.

“You mentioned flags,” Tizzy said. She straightened her shoulders, and the three of them filed back out to the table.

Colton stood outside the door and grinned at them. “Feeling patriotic, were you?”

“Let’s go,” Tizzy said. “I’m ready for this day to be over.”

Colton grabbed Nana’s bag and Om picked up his.

Tizzy blinked, then blinked again.
The margaritas must be getting to me.
She laced her arm through Synola’s and pointed to a woman in sunglasses, talking on her cell phone. Does she look familiar to you?”

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered. “
Gwynn
.”

Tizzy stopped in her tracks and the rest of the group bumped into her.

“What’s wrong?” Colton asked.

Tizzy tried to move the group around the corner out of sight, but before she could, she caught sight of Ramona, also talking on a cell phone.

“Oh my God. That’s Ramona and the woman we’ve been looking for,” Tizzy whispered.

“What are they doing here?” Rayann asked.

Synola rolled her eyes. “Gee, I don’t know. Let me think. They’re at an airport, Rayann. They’re gettin’ the hell outta Dodge.”

“I’ll handle this, Om said, and walked away before anyone could stop him.

“Oh dear Lord,” Tizzy said.

“Oh, Miss?” Om called out and headed toward Ramona, but she walked away and finished her call.

“I’m sorry miss, but your aura pulled me to you,” he said, moving around her, framing her like a photographer looking for the best shot. “My God, it’s strange. The reds, blues, and greens are brilliant. But there’s gray, too.”

Ramona followed the movement of his hands, and Tizzy stared at Ramona.

“Move into the sunlight,” Om said, pulling her toward the window. “Oh my God, the light reflecting off your skin is far out righteous. I’m totally gone over you.”

“What’s going on here,” Gwynn asked. She stood next to Ramona.

“This nice man says I have a beautiful aura,” Ramona said.

“How many times have I told you not to speak to strangers?” Gwynn said, her voice soft, but stern. “Thank him for the compliment and come on, we don’t want to miss our plane.”

Horace and Colton moved to Gwynn and locked her arms in theirs. Tizzy stepped forward. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Gwynn tried to pull free.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” Ramona said

“I’m not saying a word until I get a lawyer.” Gwynn glared at her sister. “You don’t say anything either, Ramona.”

“Fine.” Tizzy turned to Ramona. “We’re going to give you a ride home. Is that okay?”

Ramona’s phone chirped again and she answered. “No, we’re not on the plane yet,” she said. “As a matter of fact, we’ve changed our minds. We’re going back home. My friend Tizzy is taking us. Yes. That’s right. Thanks for everything. Bye.”

Ramona turned to Tizzy. “You’re not going to hurt Gwynn are you?”

“Of course not. We just have some questions we need to ask her.”

In the parking garage, Horace led Ramona and Gwynn to his car.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” Ramona pointed at the license plate, broke free from Horace and took off running.

“I’ll get her,” Colton yelled and sprinted after her.

Horace put Gwynn in the back seat of the security vehicle. “I’ll pick up Ramona in the car,” he shouted to Tizzy. He jumped behind the wheel, turned his engine and the car exploded into a ball of fire.

Tizzy, Synola and Rayann hit the pavement from the force of the blast. Nana and Om still a distance away, froze in place.

Colton stopped in his tracks and yelled to Tizzy. “GET AWAY FROM THE CAR. NOW!!”

The three girls got up and started running toward him. Nana and Om were already ahead of them. They’d not made it far when another explosion occurred. Tizzy glanced back over her shoulder as the van went up in flames.

A few minutes later, the sound of sirens announced the arrival of first responders. Shortly, two ambulances wheeled into the garage followed by the bomb squad and FBI.

Tizzy and the others sat in a line on the concrete railing circling the parking area.

Everything appeared like a dream to Tizzy.
This can’t be happening. Gwynn’s dead. Horace is dead. Car bomb.
She watched everything through a haze. Members of the investigative team talked and bagged debris. Colton talked with an agent. Ramona was nowhere to be found.

Ridge eyed his phone when it chirped.
We’re all ok. Explosion at airport.
His heart raced.

What the hell?
He shook his head and tried to wrap his brain around the words.
She sends me a message like that in place of calling?
He punched in her number and she answered right away.

“What’s wrong, Tizzy? What do y
ou mean there was an explosion?”

Tizzy started to cry and the next thing Ridge heard was a man’s voice.

“Hello,” he said. “This is Colton Webber with Sentry Security.”

“This is Texas Ranger Ridge Cooper. What the hell’s going on, Webber? Is my wife okay? Why can’t she talk to me?”

“She’s upset, but she’s fine. There was a car bomb. I lost a man and your suspect. We’ve rented a car and as soon as the FBI is done with us, we’ll be heading home.”

“My suspect? What suspect?”

“Gwynn Skylar, sir.”

“Let me speak to Tizzy,” he said, more command than request.

“Hello,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Darlin’, are you okay?”

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry about Gwynn. We had Ramona, but lost her.”

“Darlin’, listen to me. I don’t give a damn about Gwynn, Ramona, or this case. All I care about is you. Now stop crying and come home to me.”

He wanted to jump in the car and go to her, but DFW was over two hours away. By the time he got there, the FBI would be conducting interviews with everyone involved. He wouldn’t be able to speak to her until they were finished. So all he could do was wait.

~~*~~

The next few hours seemed longer than the four days Ridge spent in the crate. He tried to concentrate on other things. He took Gracie back to Pattiecake and Saint to spend the night and informed them of the developments.

He called Jinx and Bubba. He talked to the security guy watching the house. He made a sandwich. He drank a beer. He paced. He watched news coverage of the bombing, and just when he thought he couldn’t be more miserable, his mother called.

Finally, the sound of a car gave him some relief and he took a deep breath for the first time since her text. He opened the door and Tizzy fell into his arms.

“You’re okay, Darlin’. Don’t cry,” he whispered into her hair.

“I can’t stop,” she sobbed.

She wasn’t just crying. She wept. Her breath hitched. Her body quaked. He rarely saw this side of her. Normally, she was strong and sassy, but when she needed him, really
needed
him, she was fragile and vulnerable.

“Come over here.” He sat down on the sofa and pulled her onto his lap. “Everything will be okay.”

“No,” she said, forcing words out in a gasp. “Someone took you from me and now more people have died. Everything’s wrong. Gracie sees Boone. Nana brought a hippie home, named Om. We could have all been killed. My life is out of control.” She buried her head against his shoulder and sobbed harder.

“I’ll fix everything,” he said, wondering how in the world he would, but knowing he’d say or do anything to make things better. “I’ll find out who blew up the cars. I’ll kick Boone’s ass and send the hippie packing.”

She sniffed and pushed away from him.

He cupped her face with his hand and tenderly kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyes. “I love you and I’ll make everything right. I swear it. Please don’t cry anymore.” He kissed her again.

She took a deep breath and relaxed into him.

“That’s better,” he said. “God, when Webber told me about the bombs, my heart stopped. “I never want to think about my life without you.”

“I’m never
not
going to love you,” she whispered, her breath hot and ragged against his neck. Ridge, I know you want to talk about it, but I can’t. Not yet.”

“I’ll wait until you’re ready.” He held her tighter, th
ankful to have her in his arms.

“Thank you. Right now, I just want a bath. A nice. Hot. Bath.”

“How ‘bout I take one with you?” he asked, wanting to be as close to her as possible.

She attempted a smile. “Can you manage without getting your cast wet?”

“Naked and soaped up with you? Are you kidding me? Damn straight. You sit right here, I’ll get the tub ready.”

He turned on the spigot and adjusted the temperature, then lit votive-candles and set them on the counter. Tizzy loved soaking by cand
lelight. He went to the kitchen and got a bottle of cabernet along with glasses. He figured a drink would help her sleep. Squeezing some warm vanilla gel into the tub, he poured the wine, then returned to the living room for Tizzy.

Fifteen minutes later, she lay between his legs, her back against his chest, and sipped her drink. He massaged her shoulders.

“Hmmm, feels good,” she said.

“You feel good.” He kissed
the top of her head.

She took a deep breath. “That’s nice, too. Ridge, I need to tell you something.”

“About the bombing?”

“Yes. Colton talked to a member of the bomb squad. A piece of the debris they recovered was part of a tracking device.”

Ridge sat up straight, his stomach somersaulted. “What the hell?”

“
Colton guessed the GPS had probably been on the cars for a while.”

Ridge shook his head trying to organize his thoughts. “How did Gwynn factor into all this?”

“It was a fluke. A crazy, unbelievable coincidence.” Tizzy turned around in the tub and faced him. “Why did this happen? If someone was trying to kill Gwynn, how did they know she’d be with us, when we didn’t even know?”

“I can’t put it all together right now.” He took her hand and laced his fingers in hers. “If the explosives were attached to your cars today, they would have needed to be quick and easy.” Ridge’s brain spun at ninety miles an hour, he couldn’t focus on anything but having Tizzy safe. “The security guys messed up. One of them should have stayed with the cars at all times. If they had, Gwynn and
the guy would be alive.”

“That’s my fault. I told them to go with us.”

“Still, they should have refused. They knew better. You didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. What happened to Ramona?”

“I don’t know. She disappeared in all the commotion. Are you mad at me?”