The Wedding Gamble Read online

  “I don’t mind waiting.”

  “Go!” Rachel barked.

  “Are you sure?” David asked.

  “I’ll be fine. And I won’t be long.” With luck, she’d be able ditch Rachel within a few minutes.

  She let her sister lead her to an alcove at the end of the hall. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I heard from Josh. He found out your so-called husband’s background.”

  A cold shiver made its way up her spine. Rachel looked entirely too smug. “You told me earlier you hadn’t heard anything. It’s almost three in the morning in Davenport.”

  “I forgot to charge my phone. But that’s not important. What’s important is what he found out about David.”

  “What did he find out?”

  “David’s lying to you about his job,” Rachel said. “The State Department has never heard of him. He’s no diplomat.”

  A wave of dizziness staggered her, but she pushed it away. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.” After all, he was working undercover. This was probably all part of the fake background he’d made up to convince Zacolli that he was legit. Why hadn’t she thought of that when Rachel said she was going to run a background check?.

  Rachel leaned forward, eyes feverish. “The man is a criminal. A felon. He’s spent time in prison. Not only that, he’s from a family of criminals. His dad worked for the mob.”

  Zacolli’s references to David’s father echoed in her head. Obviously, the man had known David’s dad, but had he really worked for the mob? Is that why David hadn’t wanted to talk about him? Why hadn’t he trusted her enough to tell her?

  “Josh was certain about what he found,” Rachel said. “It’s not like Abruzzo is a common name, even in Chicago.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said. She couldn’t tell Rachel the truth—that David worked for the FBI. David’s boss had asked her to keep everything she learned from David in confidence.

  Rachel’s expression softened, and she hugged Laura close. “I can’t believe you married a guy who was a complete stranger. But Josh said he can help you. He can file to get the marriage annulled. You can sell that ring—if it’s real—to pay your legal fees. Eventually, you’ll live down the embarrassment.”

  She didn’t feel embarrassed, not at all. “I need to talk to David,” she said.

  Rachel tightened her hold. “No! You need to stay away from him.”

  “I need to hear his side of the story.” She pried Rachel’s fingers from around her arm and slipped out of her grasp.

  “Laura, that man is dangerous. You could be hurt.”

  “David would never hurt me,” she said. Not intentionally, anyway.

  “You don’t know that,” Rachel said. “Why do I have to keep pointing out that he’s a stranger?”

  True, the things she didn’t know about David would fill volumes. But she remembered his anger on her behalf when he thought Rachel had insulted her, the way he’d tried to protect her from Victor and Charlie, and the utter safety she felt in his arms.

  Maybe she was delusional, just another lonely, naïve girl taken in by a handsome, charming con artist. But what did he stand to gain from conning her? She had no money or connections or inside information. Why would he have married her if not for the reasons he’d already confessed—that he needed her help to keep other men from killing him?

  “I just want to talk to him,” she said. “I’ll keep my phone with me, and if he gives me any trouble or I don’t like what he says, I’ll call you and the police right away.”

  “We should call the police now.”

  “What for? He hasn’t committed any crime.”

  “He lied to you. Isn’t that fraud or something?”

  “If they arrested people every time they lied, we’d all be in jail,” Laura said.

  “You wouldn’t be. You never lie.”

  If Rachel only knew. Every time she had given in and said she didn’t mind rearranging her life to accommodate Rachel’s plans, she’d lied. Every time she’d ignored a veiled insult from a co-worker, or pretended she didn’t mind staying home alone on Saturday nights, she’d lied to herself. She had a long history of lying that no one knew about.

  “I’ll talk to you in the morning,” she said.

  “If I don’t hear from you first thing tomorrow, I’m coming looking for you,” Rachel said.

  “I’m a big girl. I can look after myself.”

  “I used to think that was the truth until we got here and you started acting all crazy.” Rachel stared intently into her eyes. “You’re not taking drugs, are you?”

  “No! Why would you even think that?” She hadn’t even smoked pot in college. She didn’t even like to take pain pills when they’d been prescribed. She didn’t like the woozy feeling they gave her. “You’re not acting like yourself,” Rachel said.

  “How am I supposed to act?”

  “You’re usually so calm and sensible. Dependable. You never do anything the least bit unpredictable or irresponsible.”

  Her spirits sank further. Rachel had just described a woman who was so staid and dull she wouldn’t dream of taking a risk or coloring outside the lines. She’d described a woman determined to remain invisible.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said and hurried away, fleeing not just her sister, but her sister’s vision of her as a woman who lived a life based solely on other people’s expectations.

  She started in the direction of their room, but continued past the turnoff to another bank of elevators. She needed fresh air—or what passed for such in Vegas—and time to think.

  Outside, she let the crowds carry her along. Was it really only last night that she’d wandered the Strip alone, stoned out of her mind, depressed about a birthday no one was celebrating? A lonely, single, pre-school teacher from the Midwest, a woman who never stood out, never risked anything, and who put pleasing other people ahead of her own desires.

  She emerged from a side street on to the Strip across from Paris Las Vegas. The miniature Eiffel Tower glowed neon-bright against a backdrop of billboards and more neon. No one would ever mistake this replica for the real thing, yet it had some of the same elegance and grace of the original.

  Her marriage to David wasn’t the real thing, either, but it had some of the same qualities of a legitimate union. She and David had spent a lot of time together in the past twenty-four hours, and she felt closer to him, in some respects, than she had to anyone in a long time. Yet he didn’t want to share the details of his life with her. Maybe their time together meant more to her than to him. Perhaps Rachel was right. She could walk away right now. That was the safe thing to do. The rational decision. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t try to stop her.

  But that would mean going home. Back to being the responsible older sister. Back to being Rachel’s bridesmaid. Back to being invisible. Not this time, she thought, as she straightened up, turned on her heel, and headed back toward the hotel. She never wanted to fade into the woodwork again.

  …

  David paced the hotel room—four long strides from the bed to the door, four strides back. He checked the time on his phone, only five minutes since he’d checked it last, but almost an hour since he’d left Laura with her sister in the hallway. Where was she?

  Five more minutes and he’d go look for her. Maybe she was still talking with Rachel and had lost track of time. But after the intensity of their encounter in the elevator, was that even possible? They’d balanced on the very edge of control in that dingy car. Only the desire to savor the moment and make it more comfortable for her had stopped him from taking her right there up against the wall.

  His erection stiffened anew at the memory. No, if Laura was delayed now, more than conversation with her sister was keeping her from him. Had Charlie and Victor returned? His stomach knotted painfully. Laura would have probably gone with them without a fight. So far, she’d played them as dumb goons who were easily deceiv
ed. She didn’t know how ruthless they could be. They were part of a culture that thought nothing of destroying an innocent life to send a message or teach a lesson.

  The day he’d learned this lesson, when he was thirteen, was still burned into his memory. Two men very much like Victor and Charlie came to his house and terrorized his mother, demanding to know where his father was. Jackie had apparently taken something that belonged to their boss—money, drugs—David didn’t know or care. His mother didn’t know, either. She hadn’t seen her husband for several days and told the men this over and over, tears running down her face, her voice breaking with fear.

  They either didn’t believe her or, more likely, her own guilt or innocence was irrelevant to them. Jackie Abruzzo had betrayed their boss and he—or his family in his absence—must pay. David had awakened just after one the next morning to the smell of smoke. He’d found his mother in her smoke-filled bedroom and managed to drag her to safety. Their house had burned along with everything they owned except the clothes on their back and his mother’s cat.

  He had hated his father from that day on, but he’d hated the mob even more and had devoted his life to making them pay for the hurt they’d caused his mother and for the many lives they’d destroyed.

  He snatched up his jacket and headed for the door. He had to find Laura. But as he reached for the knob, the door opened, and Laura stood looking at him, her expression grim.

  “I was getting worried,” he said. He wanted to pull her to him, to reassure himself of her safety with the feel of her soft curves in his arms. But the accusation in her eyes pushed him away. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “We need to talk.” She moved past him into the room and dropped her purse on the table, then sat in the chair where only a few hours before she’d enjoyed her birthday dinner.

  Were there any words in the English language more likely to create a sense of dread in a man? He shut and locked the door and removed his jacket. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Rachel asked her fiancé to check into your background. She was understandably concerned that I’d eloped with a stranger.”

  “And you’re upset by what he found out.” He sat across from her. “Laura, in my work undercover, I have to appear to be what I say I am—as bad as the people I pursue. Your sister’s fiancé isn’t the only one who can do a background check these days. What he found was my cover story.”

  “So you weren’t in prison?”

  “No.” He waited for her to smile, for relief to flood her eyes. But her expression remained non-committal. “What about your father?” she asked.

  He did a lousy job of hiding his shock. “My father?”

  “Josh told Rachel your father had been in prison, too. That he worked for the mob. And Zacolli obviously knew him. Did your father work for Zacolli?”

  Rachel’s fiancé had been very thorough. “Yes, my dad worked for Zacolli,” he said evenly. “He was what they called a bag man. He transported money or drugs or whatever his bosses needed delivered from one place to another.”

  “So when Zacolli asked you to deliver that package to Cassandra tonight…” Her voice trailed away, her expression stricken.

  “He was reminding me where I came from—and what could happen if I stepped out of line.”

  “What happened to your father?” Laura asked.

  “He was in and out of prison most of my boyhood, until he died when I was seventeen.”

  “Did Zacolli—” She swallowed hard. “Did Zacolli have anything to do with his death?”

  “Not directly. But my father drank too much, and he didn’t take care of himself. He got pneumonia and couldn’t fight it off.”

  “That must have been hard for you.”

  “Yes.” He shifted in his chair. This wasn’t something he talked about to anyone, ever, but he needed to explain himself to her. “I grew to hate him and his bosses. It’s why I do what I do now.”

  “You hated your father because of his job?”

  “I hated the way he let the job take over his life and change him. Nothing mattered but pleasing his bosses. Never mind the hurt he brought on his real family.” He clenched his fists. How many times as a boy had he wanted to lash out at his father? But he never got the chance. The fire had burned all the fight out of his mother. She’d surrendered to depression and a hopelessness that dragged at her for the rest of her life. She refused to hold a grudge, so David held one for her.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said.

  He shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about his family anymore. “What else did your sister say?” he asked.

  “She told me I should stay away from you. That you’re dangerous.”

  “She’s right.” He wouldn’t sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much he wanted her to see him as a better person than he was. She’d be better off—and safer—if she walked out the door right now and never looked back. But he didn’t have it in him to tell her to go.

  “I was touched, really, that she was so concerned,” she said. “Usually, I’m the one worried about her.” She grimaced. “I guess I got a taste of my own medicine. Hearing her telling me what to do wasn’t very pleasant. She was a little too smug.”

  He said nothing, though he could imagine Rachel smug—she’d have relished the chance to lord it over the older sister, who’d probably never gotten into trouble when they were growing up. Laura must have been held up as the example for Rachel to follow. Having the tables turned was vindication for all the times she’d messed up and Laura had run to the rescue.

  “She wasn’t happy about me coming back to you tonight,” Laura said. “But I told her I wanted to hear your side of things.”

  “What will you do now?” He tensed, dreading her answer.

  “Right now, I’m going to bed. I’m too exhausted to think.” She stood. “But for tonight, at least, you should sleep on the couch.”

  He wanted to protest—to argue or plead or maybe simply kiss her until she changed her mind. But he did none of those things. He only stared in silence as she walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Then he went to the closet and retrieved an extra pillow and blanket. As he made a bed on the too-short sofa, he hated his father all over again.

  …

  Laura slept fitfully, too aware of David, who tossed and turned on the couch across the room. Was staying with him a mistake? Was she foolish to risk so much danger with him instead of walking away when she had the chance?

  She drifted off, and dreamed of moonlit voyages on a Venice canal, kissing David beneath each bridge with a tenderness and passion that seemed too real for fantasy. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she wondered if it were possible to fall in love with someone you’d just met.

  But the pounding of her heart became the demanding ring of the phone.

  Laura sat up, groggy. David was already up, groping for the phone. “Hello?”

  He listened for a moment then handed the receiver to her. “It’s for you. Your sister.”

  He got up, clad only in pajama pants, and headed for the bathroom. Mesmerized, she watched until he disappeared behind the closed door. God, he was gorgeous.

  Sighing, she put the phone to her ear. “Laura, is that you?” Rachel demanded. “You sound awful.”

  Laura put one hand to her mussed hair. Her eyes felt puffy from crying and lack of sleep. She felt like hell, so it seemed only fitting that she sound like it, too. “You woke me up. What could you possibly need from me this time of the morning?”

  “I called to see if you’re all right. I can’t believe you spent the night with that man.” She practically spat the last words, as if David were a loathsome disease. “Seriously, Laura, are you having some kind of nervous breakdown or something?”

  Getting married to a stranger and running around Vegas dodging men with guns was definitely crazy. If this whole thing turned out badly, she could imagine the headlines:

  Preschool Teacher Reveals Secret, Seamy Sider />
  Girl-Next-Door Turns Gun Moll.

  “It’s all right. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Maybe he married you so he could take out a gigantic life insurance policy, then he’s going to murder you and collect the proceeds. He’ll dump your body in the desert and no one will ever find it.”

  She wanted to laugh, but Rachel wouldn’t see the humor. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you.”

  “Fine. Maybe he’s not going to murder you. Maybe he’s just going to break your heart.”

  All laughter deserted her. The longer she stayed with David, the more likely it was that he would, indeed, break her heart. Whether due to the excitement he brought to her life, the wild physical attraction between them, or the unexpected tenderness with which he treated her, she was growing more and more attached to him. When their marriage of convenience was no longer convenient, he’d leave, and she’d have to deal with the consequences. “Maybe he will break my heart,” she said softly. “That’s a risk people take every time they let themselves fall in love.”

  “You don’t love him, Laura. You can’t love a man you just met.”

  Logic dictated that this was true, but Laura’s heart made a different argument. She felt a connection to David that was more than physical. “I trust David,” she said. “And I believe he needs me. I want to stay with him.”

  “You trust a man like that with your life?”

  “I do.” She could trust David—he’d do everything in his power to protect her from harm at the hands of others, she was sure. “I know this seems crazy to you—it feels that way to me, too. But it also feels right. I need to be with David right now. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

  “You’re not going to let me change your mind?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Rachel’s sigh was big and dramatic. “At least promise me you won’t spend all your time with him. I mean, you came to Vegas with me. We should do something together.”