The Bride's Secrets. Debra Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ in nearly a decade had her skills been questioned.

      For her, creating a new identity and pulling it off was—in a word—simple.

      But not this time.

      But then, she’d never played the part of fiancée. Lover, yes. Mistress, of course. But never this intimate character.

      Her fingers clenched.

      Just a job. That was all this had been. She had to keep that fact in mind. The only reason she was still hanging around the Windy City was because no one—no one—double-crossed her.

      Until she neutralized this situation, she wasn’t going anywhere.

      He wasn’t going to make it easy.

      Anticipation zipped along her nerve endings. The need to draw his scent into her lungs…to touch his skin was a palpable force inside her. No one had ever gotten that far beneath her carefully constructed exterior. She steeled herself to block the reaction. Again she reminded herself that he was part of the job, nothing more. And the job wasn’t finished yet.

      Not until she got the bastard who’d double-crossed her.

      And ensured that J.T. didn’t pay the price.

      If this guy thought J.T. was his biggest problem, he had no idea what he’d done. Crossing her had been a serious mistake.

      Now she was his biggest problem.

      He would soon understand just how big that problem was going to be.

      As if the thought had summoned his minions, movement below snagged her attention. She watched from the fourth-floor window as four—no, five—men moved toward the warehouse.

      “It’s showtime.” She turned away from the window and headed for the stairs. If she’d been smart, she would have moved already.

      Things didn’t always go as planned. That was why her motto remained firm. Always have a backup plan. And an exit strategy for every occasion.

      Timing was where she’d fallen down tonight.

      She jogged down the three flights of stairs to her destination and burst through the door.

      “We have to move. Now.”

      Fists clenched, J.T. glared at her. “Whatever you’re involved in, I’m not a part of it.” He moved his head from side to side. “The we that included you and I ended the day you didn’t show up for our wedding.”

      Not exactly original, but the statement had been one he’d likely wanted to say to her for two weeks now. He’d gotten that out of the way. Good for him.

      She hated to do it this way, but…what the hell. Her right hand rammed into her bag, and her fingers closed around the butt of her Glock. “Save it, J.T.” She drew the weapon. “We don’t have time.”

      Dropping into a crouch, she retrieved the knife from her bag with her free hand and cut the bindings from around his ankles with one quick swipe to each. She stood and looked him dead in the eyes. “Give me any trouble and we’ll both be dead in—” she hummed a note “—about three minutes.”

      “You carry a weapon?”

      The question hit its mark. Maybe not the question, but the way he’d asked it. He’d believed in her. Swallowed her profile hook, line and sinker. She flinched.

      She never flinched. But somehow it bothered her that he was disappointed. In her.

      “Trust me,” she warned. “We don’t have time for this.”

      He stared her dead in the eyes.

      “Give me one good reason I should trust you for a second.”

      That he no longer trusted her…hurt. And it shouldn’t have.

      “Because you want to stay alive.”

      A door bursting open echoed in the distance.

      The enemy was in the building.

      There was no more time to talk.

      The decision had to be made now.

      “Cut me loose.”

      His tone left no room for doubt. He didn’t trust her. Not one iota. But he wasn’t stupid. He would accept her word…for the moment.

      Two swipes of the blade and he was free.

      She sheathed the knife in her bag and headed for the rear exit, keeping one eye on his every move.

      He stood, steadied himself and followed the path she’d taken.

      Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

      In the corridor she stayed close to the wall. J.T. did the same. The consuming quiet was disturbing. The enemy was inside. But where?

      Part of her wanted to drop back and take at least one of the enemy out of action, but not completely out. She needed information. The scumbag at J.T.’s house had forced her hand. She’d had no choice but to take him out. Couldn’t question a dead man.

      “This way,” she whispered to the man sticking close behind her.

      He didn’t question her decision, just followed as she took a side corridor that would lead to the outside. She’d spotted five men; taking on five singlehandedly wasn’t something she wanted to do under the circumstances. J.T. was wounded, not seriously but wounded all the same. Not to mention he wasn’t exactly an ally. And she couldn’t risk arming him.

      At the exit she hesitated, listened.

      J.T. gestured to his right and whispered, “Maybe thirty yards behind us.”

      Had he heard something she hadn’t? Then she heard it, too. The whisper of rubber soles on concrete floors. The slightest vibration in the air.

      He was good… But then she’d known that.

      She pushed through the exit, uncaring of the metal-on-metal sound the lock mechanism made. No time to care. Keep moving.

      Down the exterior steps. Quickly. She glanced back once to ensure J.T. was right behind her. He hadn’t slowed down or second-guessed the need to escape.

      At least so far.

      She hit the ground running. The dock was above their heads. They’d scarcely cleared the exterior maintenance area when she heard the exit they’d used reopen.

      The iron stairs groaned with the weight of the enemy’s descent.

      Damn, they were close.

      “The water,” she said to J.T., knowing he would understand.

      Eve rushed toward the bank that wound up to the dock. Her shoes bogged down in the damp earth. She hadn’t factored in today’s rain.

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