Chapter 15 #2
“While you’re asking him that, maybe you should ask him why he had an engagement ring for you, why he never gave it to you, but why he kept the ring all these years. Kept it with him, no matter where the hell he went in this world.”
Her head snapped toward Ryan.
“I caught him holding it in Madrid. Saw him staring at it on a beach in Bali. Found him holding it in the middle of a frigid night from hell in Russia. He always had that ring with him. Like he was carrying around a piece of you, wherever he went.”
That couldn’t be true. Could it? Slowly, her head turned back toward the front.
They were at the end of the aisle.
Ryan took her hand, and he slid it toward Nash. Instantly, Nash’s fingers closed around her own. He pulled her closer, and a relieved breath seemed to slide from him.
Her gaze was on his profile. He was staring at the officiant. All of the information that Ryan had just revealed flew through her head. Her heart raced too fast. Adrenaline, fear, and excitement coursed through her veins.
“Does anyone have just cause why these two should not be united?”
At those words, she held her breath. Even found herself jerking around to stare at the closed doors to the Love Heart Chapel.
But the doors didn’t come flying open. No one interrupted. And soon the officiant was asking, “Do you take this man to be your husband?”
Her gaze was back on Nash. She knew the whole scene was pretend, but it felt so incredibly real. Too real as she murmured, “Yes.”
Nash smiled at her. A smile of such savage satisfaction that alarm bells went off in her head.
“Do you take this woman…”
She didn’t even hear the rest of the officiant’s words.
“Yes. Always.” But she heard Nash’s response clearly. He put a ring on her finger. A gleaming, gold ring. And he gave her one to put on his finger, too. She wondered where he’d gotten those.
Surely, he didn’t have these two wedding rings for years, too. Surely…
“You may kiss the bride.”
It was done. The stage set. They’d be photographed after this ceremony. Word would leak. An announcement would be made. The right people—or, in this case, the wrong ones—would learn about the ceremony. The trap would be sprung.
But in that moment, as Nash’s fingers curled under her chin and he tipped her head back, she didn’t care about Kurt or any trap. Her lips parted, and when Nash’s mouth touched hers, the tenderness of the kiss shocked her.
She’d kissed Nash in many ways over the years. Nervous kisses when she’d been a teen. Desperate, hungry kisses when she’d been older and learned what passion truly meant.
But this…
Gentle.
Almost worshipping.
His lips feathered over hers, and tears stung her eyes. For a moment, Delaney felt like she was truly in a dream. But, no, this was better than a dream. Because he was really kissing her. The weight of the two rings she wore on her left hand was real. He was real.
This time, her wedding had not been a nightmare. Not at all.
Nash swung her into his arms. “I’m not letting you go again,” he vowed. Nash began to carry her down the aisle.
Her right arm looped behind his neck. Her left held the daisies. They’d done it. She and Nash were married. Pretend married. He was carrying her toward the chapel’s doors.
Ryan beat them to the exit. He swung open one door.
Rushed outside. Nash followed. The sun was setting because they’d been in Vegas for most of the afternoon.
The CIA had put all of their plans in place.
And this was another part of the master plan.
They were supposed to be photographed leaving the chapel.
A photographer would take shots of her and Nash.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
The blasts caught her unaware. They sounded like fireworks, and for a frantic beat, she found herself looking around in confusion except…
The car racing down the road had a man hanging out the passenger side. A guy with a gun in his hand.
Ryan bellowed, “Get down!”
Nash was already spinning with her. Flying with her to the ground and covering her with his body.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Not fireworks. Those were bullets blasting at them. Delaney was too afraid to scream, and she held onto Nash’s shoulders for dear life. She’d dropped the daisies. He was what she grasped. He was what mattered.
And he was covering her with his body as gunfire rained down on them.
Tires squealed as the vehicle raced away.
Nash kept covering her.
“Nash?” A strangled whisper. So many bullets. Terror threatened to choke her as she gasped out, “Nash, are you okay?”
He raised up. Stared down at her with an expression so fierce and dark that her heaving breath froze in her chest.
“Are you okay?” she repeated.
A jerky nod from him. His hands flew over her body, looking for injuries.
“I’m all right. Nash, Nash, I’m all right.”
He kept searching her for wounds. His hands touched her arms. Her stomach. Her legs.
“I’m all right, Nash! I promise!” Delaney blinked quickly because fear had her tearing up.
She’d married him in one moment and nearly lost him in the next instant.
That had not been part of the plan. A photographer should have been there to shoot them.
Not someone with a real gun. The CIA had promised they would be safe.
The CIA lied.
“What happened?” A terrified cry from the organist. She stood near the open chapel doors, with the light glinting off her round glasses.
“Little…help…” A gasp. From Ryan.
Nash’s head jerked to the right. So did Delaney’s. Ryan stood a few feet away, with his hand to his left shoulder. As they watched, he shoved out of the suit coat that he wore. He revealed a crisp, white dress shirt. One that was quickly turning dark red all around his shoulder.
“Ryan!” Nash leapt to his feet.
Delaney tried to leap up after him.
“No!” Nash grabbed her. Tossed her over his shoulder. Carried her back to the chapel and shoved her inside. “Stay in here.”
“But—”
He pushed her and the organist back. Nash yanked the doors closed, slamming them right in front of Delaney.
“Oh, my dear.” The woman’s fingers fluttered around Delaney’s shoulder. “What happened?”
Every part of her wanted to run outside. She stared at the wooden doors before her. Not a dream wedding. Another nightmare. “I think someone just tried to kill my groom.”
He crushed the daisies beneath his feet. Nash hauled ass in order to get back to his brother. Ryan had moved toward the side of the chapel, seeking cover, and the blood on his shirt had just gotten darker. Thicker.
“I…returned fire,” Ryan grunted. He still gripped his weapon. “It’s not as…bad as it looks.”
Nash looked for himself. He ripped away Ryan’s shirt.
“You should call for backup.” Strained words from Ryan. “In case the car comes…back.”
“The agents are swarming right now.” He’d seen them surging forward.
He could hear their footsteps behind him.
“No shooter should be here. No one should have gotten to us so soon. This wasn’t part of the plan.
” The bullet had gone in and out of his brother’s left shoulder.
Nash could see the exit wound when he pulled Ryan forward a bit.
Ryan hissed out a breath. “Someone…you know what it means…someone…”
Nash met his brother’s gaze. “Someone at the Agency is working with Wellington. Someone fed him intel. Yeah, I know.”
“Yes.” Ryan winced when Nash probed his wound. “You can’t trust anyone.”
He was staring at the only operative he trusted completely, and with this gunshot wound, Ryan was about to be sidelined.
“You looked worried and pissed as hell.” Ryan heaved out a hard breath. “An…unfortunate combination.”
Sirens were screaming. Had the agents called them? Or concerned bystanders who’d heard the bullets blasting?
“While you are worried about my well-being…”
“Stop talking,” Nash ordered Ryan as he applied pressure to the wound.
“I have a confession I have to make. Don’t be…angry at an…injured man.”
The sirens were screeching louder.
“Don’t…be mad,” Ryan mumbled.
He pressed harder on the wound.
“Remember how…it was supposed to be fake?”
He’d caught sight of two familiar faces behind him. Agents in plain clothes who were coming in fast.
“It’s not,” Ryan mumbled. “Fuck, that burns like a mother.”
“You’re gonna be fine.” Nothing vital had been hit.
“I know. Been shot before.” A wince. “But you are gonna kill me.”
A police cruiser screeched to a halt near the sidewalk. The two CIA operatives were less than five feet away.
“Why would I kill you?” Nash’s brows climbed.
“It was real,” Ryan confessed on a long sigh.
“What was real? The gunfire? Uh, yeah, I get that. You’re bleeding all over the place.”
Ryan stared back at him, the faint lines near his mouth bracketing.
Oh, hell. “What did you do?” Nash demanded.
“What I…thought you wanted…”
“Step away!” A shout from a uniformed cop. Figured that the agents would let the cop take lead. The better not to blow their cover. “Step away from the victim!”
“The victim is my brother!” Nash raised his hands to show that he wasn’t armed. “You’re looking for a gun-metal gray Dodge Charger.”
“With bullet holes on the back passenger side,” Ryan gasped out. He winced. “Don’t be mad, Nash. I wanted to help. This is your chance.” A rushed mutter.
“What did you do?” But the twist in his gut told Nash the answer. “What was real?” He needed to hear the words.
“You know.” Ryan wet his lips. “I…can see it on your face.”
“Say the fucking words.”
“I…didn’t get a substitute officiant for the ceremony. Everything…”
Oh, shit. Oh, damn. Oh, hell.
“Congratulations,” his blood-soaked brother told him. “You just married your dream girl.”