Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
He said a silent prayer that he wasn’t going to get Stephanie killed, then headed for the main gate of Reynard’s estate and waited with his heart pounding while he sized up the operation from close in.
There were three guards at the checkpoint.
One of them asked for his credentials and looked them over carefully, like the president of a foreign country was staying here and needed special protection.
“I’d like to inspect that truck,” the man said.
“Sure,” Craig agreed as though he didn’t have a thing in the world to hide. Like for example, that he was here to kidnap the bride. Climbing out, he walked around to the back and opened the door.
There’s nothing in here but flowers. All you see are flowers, Craig said over and over as the guy climbed inside and poked around.
Flowers. Just flowers. And I’m only the delivery guy, doing his job.
The guard jumped out. “You’re good to go,” he said.
“Thanks.” He waited for a beat.
“Yes.”
“Where should I park?”
“Around the side of the house. The ceremony is out by the pool.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He would have liked to ask more questions about the layout of the estate, but he assumed he was supposed to know.
He still wasn’t sure what “around the side” of the house meant, but when he spotted a catering truck pulling up near the triple garage, he breathed out a little sigh.
Before parking, he turned around so that he was facing outward, poised for a quick getaway.
He figured that would look normal because he was unloading the flowers from the back.
After climbing out, he followed one of the catering guys to the back of the house. Chairs had been set up on either side of an aisle, facing a bank of bushes. Over to the side were six round tables, with snowy white cloths where china and cutlery had already been laid out.
He tried to remember what he knew about wedding ceremonies, which wasn’t much. Probably, they wanted a big bouquet of flowers on either side of the open space in front of the bushes because, presumably, that was where the ceremony was being held.
Someone came hurrying out of the house. He turned, hoping against hope to see Stephanie.
Instead, it was a dark-haired woman that he recognized immediately. She was Stephanie’s assistant, the one he’d met at the dress shop a lifetime ago.
He forced himself to stand in a relaxed posture with his hands at his sides as she gave him a long look. As he faced her, he furiously sent her the message. You do not know me. You never saw me before in your life.
She tipped her head to the side. “Do I know you?”
He kept projecting the silent message as he lowered his voice an octave. “No. Are you the bride?”
She laughed. “No, I’m Mr. Reynard’s assistant.”
Mr. Reynard’s assistant. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been Stephanie’s assistant. It seemed she’d come up in the world, or maybe she’d had that job all along.
“Let me give you the bride’s bouquet,” he said, leading her back to where he’d left the van. “And then you can show me where you want the flowers placed.”
“You do have the centerpieces, right?”
“Of course,” he answered quickly. Yeah, there would be flowers on the tables.
He led her to where he’d parked the van, then opened the back door and got out the box with the flowers the bride was to carry, feeling a pang as he handed them to her. A wedding bouquet for the woman he loved, only it wasn’t their wedding.
She gave the flowers a brief inspection. “Very nice.”
“Thank you,” he answered, thinking from her expression and the tone of her voice that she wished they were hers. Too bad Reynard couldn’t have picked a bride who wanted to marry him, but probably he was too obsessed with the prestige of marrying into an old New Orleans family.
As soon as she took the flowers away, he dragged in a breath and let it out. This might be the best time to contact Stephanie. She’d be alone. At least he didn’t think Reynard would be with her.
He sent his mind out to her. Stephanie.
He felt her jolt of recognition when she heard him.
Craig?
Yes.
Thank God. Oh thank God.
I just saw Claire. She came down to get the flowers.
Yes, she was apparently working for John all along.
I think she’s on her way back to you—with your bouquet. But I have to tell you some stuff while we have a chance. I’m the guy delivering the flowers.
Apparently, his previous words had registered.
Did you say she saw you?
Yes, but she didn’t recognize me. I have on a few shirts to bulk me up. And I’m the ugly bald guy with the splotchy tan and dark eyebrows.
She caught her breath.
Yeah, I look like hell, but so far the disguise is working.
What are we going to do?
You’ve been manipulating his mind, right?
Yes. Like when I got him drunk last night so he couldn’t . . . . Her silent voice trailed off.
We’re going to do it again. And I’ve got something else planned.
When he told her what he’d brought with him, she sucked in a sharp breath. Then said, Claire’s back.
I’ll see you in a little while.
Light classical music had begun to play as he carried the large vases of flowers to the spot where the bride and groom would stand and fluffed up the arrangements, then began taking the smaller containers to the tables, setting one in the center of each.
The effect was quite nice. Too bad it was going to be knocked to hell when the guests stampeded.
And here they were. As he worked, he saw well-dressed men and women arriving and gathering in an area at the side of the pool where a bar had been set up. One of them was Stephanie’s father who was holding a glass of clear liquid.
Water? He remembered that the old guy drank too much. Maybe he was trying to be on his best behavior today.
Craig saw Reynard at the edge of the crowd and sent him a message. Go get yourself a nice big drink.
He was elated when the man approached the bar and got a glass of whiskey. But instead of drinking, he looked at it for a long moment and left it on the bar.
Craig felt his stomach muscles tighten. It looked like Reynard didn’t want to repeat last night’s nonperformance.
He was focused on Reynard and his guests when he felt a tingling at the back of his neck.
Turning, he saw one of Reynard’s guards stoop to pick up the knapsack he’d left at the edge of the patio. When the man started to open it, Craig strode over.
“That’s mine,” he said aloud. Silently he added, There’s nothing you have to worry about in there.
“What’s in it?”
“I’m from the florist. That’s extra stuff I might need.”
Nothing to worry about.
“I’ll just take a look.”
Too bad the mental push wasn’t working on this guy.
“We should step around the corner so we don’t disturb the guests,” Craig said.
The man looked toward the crowd at the bar where Reynard was chatting to a group of men and women. “Yeah.”
They rounded the corner of the house.
When the guy bent to look inside the knapsack, Craig chopped him on the back of the neck, and he went down. Now what?
He pulled the guy into the bushes and opened the knapsack, where he’d stowed some duct tape. He used it to tape the guy’s mouth and secure his hands and feet. Then he hit him on the back of the head with the butt of the Sig, hoping that would keep him quiet.
His heart was thumping inside his chest as he rushed back to the pool area.
Men in uniform moved through the crowd, telling the guests to take their seats, and they began to find chairs.
When everyone was seated, a rotund gray-haired man clad in black walked to the front area and stood between the tall vases Craig had placed there.
Then the music switched to the traditional wedding march.
As all eyes turned to the patio door, Craig’s breath caught. Stephanie was standing just inside the entrance in a long white dress, gripping her father’s arm. She looked achingly beautiful, and also pale and breathless. Beside her, Dad looked like a cat who had finished a saucer of cream.
From the corner of his eye, Craig saw Reynard take his place at the front of the assembly and look back toward his bride, his expression a mixture of relief and satisfaction.
Stephanie and her father were about halfway down the aisle when one of Reynard’s guards came running toward his boss—shouting “Intruder alert. Intruder alert.”
Reynard looked up as the man scanned the crowd, then pointed to Craig. Oh Lord, maybe they’d caught the incident with the other guy and the knapsack on a security camera.
It wasn’t time for the diversion he’d planned, but he had no choice now.
Reaching into his knapsack, he pulled out some of the fireworks he’d bought in town, touched a lighter to the fuse of one and tossed it beside the pool. He did the same with several more.
They began shooting off sparks and smoke, sending panicked screams through the crowd as they mowed down chairs in their haste to get to safety.
Craig could hear furniture crashing to the ground. One of the fleeing guests bumped into a table and tipped it over. And at least one splashed into the pool.
This wasn’t quite the sequence Craig had planned, but it had the desired effect. People were creating chaos as they tried to get away before they got burned.
Over here. I’m over here, Craig shouted in his mind. There was as much smoke as sparks now, and it was hard to see. But he also knew that he could bring Stephanie toward him by using their mind-to-mind contact.
He drew his gun, hoping he didn’t have to start shooting, because innocent bystanders would get hurt.
To his relief, Stephanie came stumbling out of the smoke, and she was also holding a pistol.
Where did you get that?
I asked one of the guards, and he gave it to me—to protect myself.
Stupid of him, given the circumstances. But then Reynard still thinks I’m dead.
As he spoke, he was leading her around the pool toward the side of the house where he’d left the van.
He ached to hold her close, but there was no time for that.
This way.
He directed her toward the waiting delivery van, praying that they could get out before Reynard realized where they’d gone.
Stephanie jumped into the passenger seat, and he saw her clawing at the white dress. She tore a rip down the front and wiggled out, throwing the dress into the back of the van. Underneath she was wearing a pair of shorts and a halter top.
He had started the engine and was heading for the gate, when a group of men came running out of the bayou, shooting at the van.
Lord, who were they? Not Reynard’s security men. With all attention on the wedding, they had cut the fence to get into the compound.
Stephanie gasped.
I see one of the men who kidnapped us, Stephanie shouted in his mind. They’re here, and there are more guys with them.
He tried to cope with that, tried to reason how they had gotten here. They must still be after Stephanie, and they must have seen him lead her toward the escape vehicle.
The invasion force ran toward the flower truck shooting, and behind the vehicle, Reynard’s men were also charging forward and also shooting. Reynard was with them, firing along with the rest.
“Duck down,” Craig shouted as he plowed forward, turning left and driving in a zigzag pattern, hoping he could keep himself and Stephanie alive long enough to escape.
Intruder alert. Intruder alert, Stephanie shouted beside him. Shoot at the invaders. Shoot at the invaders, not the van.
He took up the chant, adding his voice to hers. Some of Reynard’s men got the message and began firing at the men who had poured onto the property. The newcomers returned fire. But others kept aiming at the fleeing vehicle.
And then another voice, louder and stronger added force to the order.
Shoot at each other, not the van.
Who’s that? Stephanie asked.
Maybe that woman Rachel who made it possible for us to talk last night.
Maybe.
For a heart-stopping moment, nothing seemed to change. Then Reynard’s men began blasting in earnest at the newcomers, and the invaders blasted back.
Craig looked behind them and saw Reynard still coming, determined not to let his bride escape.
He knew Stephanie caught the thought because she gasped as she followed his line of sight.
Craig kept aiming for the gate. And for long moments he thought they would get away. Then, to his horror, the van began to sputter, and he knew the engine had been hit. Finally it coughed and stopped.