Agent Bride

That was probably the best option. Now that he’d gotten a closer look at her, he could see the fatigue that shadowed her eyes. He supposed it was a busy time leading up to a wedding.

Had she gotten cold feet? Was there a groom pacing the aisle in some church, at a loss to understand where his bride might be?

But it was a Tuesday. Cal didn’t know much about weddings but he was fairly confident that they were usually on a Saturday. Maybe she was simply unconventional. Maybe she and/or the groom worked on the weekends. Maybe they got a better price on the reception if the event was on a weekday. Could be a hundred explanations.

She did not, however, look interested in offering up any of them. She was staring straight ahead, her arms wrapped around herself.

In all likelihood, he’d saved her life. It would be nice to know her name but not necessary. He wasn’t the type to brag or dwell on past accomplishments and this, quite frankly, wasn’t the first time he’d saved an unknown person’s life. That was what SEALs did best. Save the good guys. Kill the bad guys.

He was going with the assumption that she was on the side of right and that he wasn’t assisting the wrong person. That was what his gut told him and he’d learned to listen to it.

“Buckle your seat belt,” he said. He checked his mirrors, slowed down and then made a narrow U-turn on the snow-covered highway.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice small.

“Back to the Interstate. There’s a hotel a couple miles east. I’ll drop you off there.”

He turned on the radio. Maybe he’d try to get some information on the weather after all. It seemed as if the storm was picking up in intensity. It dawned on him that he hadn’t cared as much when he’d only had himself to worry about. Now he was responsible for her.

It should have felt suffocating to a man who’d recently deliberately shed all his formal responsibilities. At least irritating that he’d been sucked back in so quickly.

But oddly enough, it felt okay.

“Don’t worry,” he said.

She said nothing for a long minute. Over the sound of the radio, he could hear the tires working hard to grab pavement.

Finally she turned to him. “Thank you,” she said. “I owe you.”

* * *

IT WAS TRUE. She owed this man her life. But as soon as she could, she was getting away from him. He was young, maybe not even thirty, but his hazel eyes seemed to hold knowledge beyond that. He had short dark brown hair in a buzz cut and his skin was very tanned.

The only time he’d really pushed for information had been when he’d asked her name. She’d had to tell him something. And he’d called her on the fact that he didn’t think it was legitimate. Yet he was still willing to help her.

She wished she could accept that it was as simple as one human being extending a kindness to another. But something told her that she should trust no one. No one.

He was a good driver. His hands were relaxed on the steering wheel. She’d have been a nervous wreck.

She didn’t like to drive in bad weather.

Didn’t know how she knew this. Just knew it.

In less than five minutes, they were on the Interstate that he’d mentioned. She saw a sign. St. Louis, 194 miles.

St. Louis. She let that dance around in her head for a minute. “Joe Medwick. Ducky Medwick,” she corrected.

He turned to stare at her. “What?”

“St. Louis Cardinals. He holds the record for most runs batted in during a single season. Late 1930s.”

“Thirty-seven,” he said, “1937.” He paused, then added, “How the hell did you know that?”

She’d surprised him. Oddly enough, that made her want to smile. Nothing else that had happened up to this point had seemed to faze him but he looked absolutely flabbergasted that she knew baseball. “Sports trivia is not reserved for the male species,” she said.

“Right,” he said. He was silent for a long minute. “Motel should be just up the road.” He paused again. “Have you eaten lately?”

She didn’t feel hungry. “A little while ago,” she said.

He nodded and kept driving. The SUV churned through the snow on the road, its tires slipping occasionally as they encountered patches of ice. They stayed on the road, however, which was more than she could say for the three cars they passed that were in the ditch.

It took them fifteen minutes to get to the hotel. He pulled into the lot and she stared at the building, trying to catch some feel for whether she’d ever been here before. She didn’t think so.

It was a two-story wood building, painted mostly red with some white trim, with each room having an exterior door. She counted them. Eight up, eight down, with a small office at the front of the building. The parking lot was full of cars and had already been plowed at least once. There was a big white sign with blue lettering and a red border. The Daly American Inn. There was a flagpole and a flag near the front door. She wondered if someone had braved the elements that morning or perhaps they simply never took it down.

She stared at the flag, watched it flap in the wind, partially obscured by the flying snow. Something fluttered in her chest. “Oh,” she said, putting a hand to her heart.

“Problem?” he asked.

She shook her head. What could she say? Yes, plural but none that I can talk about.

He took the space in front of the office. She gripped the door handle tight. “Like I said, I don’t have any money on me.”

He shrugged. “We’ll worry about that once we know if they have a room. I’ll go check.”

It sounded as if he was willing to pay for it. Thank goodness. She would send him a check. Right away. She paid her debts. At least she thought she did.

He got out of the vehicle and snow blew in. It was really getting cold.

She watched him walk into the office. His dark down jacket came only to his waist. He wore jeans and cowboy boots and with his narrow hips and nice long legs, he was totally rocking the look.

It felt a little ridiculous that given the circumstances she had even noticed. But it was also oddly comforting, as if her subconscious was letting her know that everyday pleasures, even those as basic as admiring a sexy stride and a fine rear end, were not beyond her grasp.

The office was well lit and she could see a young man behind the desk. He was staring down at his cell phone, punching buttons. He looked up, evidently listening to whatever Cal was saying, and shook his head.

Her heart sank. She hadn’t realized how much hope she’d had pinned on getting a room, having a place to rest. If that wasn’t possible, she had no idea what she was going to do. Maybe they would at least let her sit in the office until...

Until what?

That was the great unknown.

She saw Cal reach into his pocket. Push something across the counter. Take the plastic key that the young man offered.

Hallelujah, it looked as if it was going to be okay.

When Cal returned to the vehicle, he handed her the plastic key. “You got the last room,” he said.

“I was worried. I saw the clerk shaking his head.”

“Just didn’t understand what I was asking for.”

It was perfect. She could sleep. For as long as it took. Then wake up and be able to deal with everything.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked. “I want to keep track.”

“Rooms are eighty-nine bucks a night. You’re in number fourteen. Second floor, two doors from the end.”

“Perfect.”

“How’s the head?” he asked.

“Still hurts,” she said honestly.

“Nauseous?” he asked.

She actually felt better than she had a half hour earlier. “No.”

“Your pupils look normal,” he said. “Which hopefully means that you don’t have a concussion. But I’m still worried about that. You’re sure that you’re going to be able to call someone to help you?”

“Absolutely,” she lied.

He drove the SUV to the corner of the building where her room was located and put the car in Park. He reached into the backseat and pulled out another pair of thick white socks. “Your feet are going to get wet walking in. Take these so you have something dry to change into.”

He was a really nice guy. “Can I have your address?” she asked. “To mail you a check. For the hotel, and these,” she said, waving at the clothes he’d given her.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Pay it forward someday.”

That was a nice idea. “Well,” she said. It was crazy but she didn’t like the idea of getting out of the car. She felt as if something bad was about to happen. But this man had done enough for her. There was nothing to be gained from stalling.

“Thank you,” she said. She extended her hand.

There was a slight pause before he reached out and very formally shook her hand. His index finger had a callus and she resisted the urge to rub the pad of her thumb against it. “Good luck,” he said.

She swallowed hard. Some good luck would be nice. She opened the door and got out. She went to close the door.

“Hey,” he said. He pointed to the backseat. “Don’t forget this.”

Her wedding dress. She grabbed it and the horrible veil that had hurt her head and wadded them under her arm. She ran up the exterior staircase and inserted her key into the door. It opened. She turned.

He was still there. Watching.

She waved.

He nodded and pulled out of the parking spot.

She went inside, feeling strangely sad. She should be happy to be free of the man. She needed time to figure out what to do next and she needed to be totally focused. That would have been difficult if Cal Hollister had stuck around.

She sat down on the ugly green-and-gold bedspread and stared at the tan carpet. What the hell was she going to do?

* * *

CAL’S FRONT FENDER was edging out of the lot when he decided that he might be a fool but he didn’t intend to be a hungry one. He still had the pie that he’d tossed into his backseat but it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup supply of candy bars, chips and red licorice, his favorite, if he did happen to get stuck. And the hotel vending machine was probably his best bet.

He backed up, parked his SUV and went inside. The desk clerk, phone still in hand, looked up. Cal waved at him and pointed his index finger at the vending machine in the alcove off to the side. The kid smiled back. When Cal saw the prices, he realized the kid was probably laughing at him, not with him. It was practically highway robbery. But he started feeding in his dollar bills.

Stormy had seemed a little reluctant to get out of the car. And he’d had the craziest urge to want to keep talking to her. Maybe they could have traded baseball trivia. She’d surprised him with that one. Her eyes had lit up and he’d gotten a glimpse of what her face would look like without fatigue and cold clouding it.

He’d felt an attraction to her. And that, ultimately, had been what had kept him from chatting it up in the car. She was either someone’s fiancée or someone’s wife. Off-limits.

Just two years ago, he’d had to pick up the pieces when his best friend on the team had gotten a Dear Leo letter. Leo’s wife had met someone and had filed divorce papers. Leo had gone a little crazy and Cal had been seriously worried that the man was going to make a mistake that could take the whole team down.

He didn’t ever want to be in the middle of something like that. So he’d said goodbye to Stormy and accepted that how she came to be in that snowdrift, in her wedding gown, was going to be one of life’s unanswered mysteries. When he’d checked in, he’d verified that there were phones in the room. Hopefully, by now she’d made her calls and help was either on the way or, at the very least, relieved to hear that she was okay.

He had just pressed the last button when the door opened. Two men, both wearing long black coats and dark pants, came in. The taller man had an ugly scar, running from the corner of his eye to halfway down his cheek.

Both men gave Cal a cursory look but focused on the desk clerk. “We are looking for our cousin,” the taller one said. His tone was low, almost guttural, and he’d turned his back to Cal. But Cal, who had always had excellent hearing, didn’t have any trouble making out the words. The guy had a slight accent, clipping the end of his words, rolling his r’s just a little. Maybe Russian.

The man held out his smartphone so that the clerk could see something on the screen.

“Pretty bride,” the clerk said.

“Yes, very beautiful,” the tall man said. “Have you seen her?”

Cal casually reached into his pocket and fed in another dollar. Took his time considering his choices.

“Nope,” said the clerk. “I’d have remembered her if she’d checked in,” he added with the exuberance of a horny young male.

The two men looked at each other. They were frustrated. Trying to hide it but not doing a great job.

“It is very important that we find her,” said the shorter one. “She would have arrived within the last hour.”

The desk clerk nodded. “Sorry I can’t help. I’m the only one here. If she’d have rented a room, I’d know it. There are a couple motels down the road another ten or fifteen miles. You may want to try there.”

The two men nodded and walked out the door. The shorter one had a stiff left leg, swinging it from the hip, rather than bending it at the knee. Cal grabbed his purchases and stepped back into the main office. Glanced out the window. They were driving a black Mercedes. They pulled out, headed east.

Cal held up his bag of chips. “My favorite,” he said. “Should get me through the night.”

The clerk shrugged and picked up his phone.

Cal pulled up the collar of his coat, opened the door and walked back to his vehicle. Once inside, he started it and flipped on the wipers to clear the windshield of snow.

Pretty bride.

Very beautiful.

Arrived within the last hour.

One only had to be smarter than the average bear to figure out that they were talking about Stormy, or whatever her real name was. And they seemed pretty determined to find her. Cal figured they’d be back for a second check once they got up the road a ways and nobody had seen her.

Really wasn’t his problem.

He glanced in his mirror and sedately pulled out of the lot.

Chapter Three

She took a shower and stood under the hot spray for a long time. She stared at her wrists, rubbed them with the washcloth, noting that they were tender. Bruised.

She shampooed her hair, carefully rubbing the bump and the open cut. It stung a little but she figured that was a good thing. Even though it was just a small cut, it was probably a good idea to get it cleaned out.

Not that getting an infection was her biggest problem.

She got out of the shower, dried off and used the small bottle of lotion provided by the hotel. She rubbed Mango Magic on her legs, her arms, her hands. She thought her knuckles were chapped from her time in the snow but realized that they were skinned up and several of her nails had broken off, leaving a jagged edge behind.

She had a very vague recollection of grasping something with her hands, slipping off, grasping again. Hanging on.

She could feel her anxiety mounting and she told herself to breathe deep, to not try to force it. She towel-dried her hair, wishing she had a comb. At least the hotel had provided a blow-dryer. She used it, running her fingers through her hair, jerking when one of her jagged nails caught a strand and pulled.

She used her finger along with some soap to brush her teeth. Then she rinsed and rinsed, feeling as if had been days since her teeth had been clean.

She opened the bathroom and was very grateful that she had a towel wrapped around her because Cal Hollister was sitting on her bed, back propped against the headboard, arms behind his head.

He was chewing on a stick of red licorice.

What the hell? “Get off my bed,” she said, working hard to keep her tone even. She would not let him see that she was scared to death.

“No.” He reached down to the end of the bed, where she’d left his T-shirt, sweatpants and her underwear. He scooped them up and tossed them in her direction.

She reached automatically and almost lost her towel in the process.

“Get dressed,” he said.

She stepped back inside the bathroom and slammed the door. Looked for a lock but there wasn’t one. Of all the nerve. He may have saved her life but who did he think he was coming here, surprising her, putting her at a disadvantage? She yanked on her clothes, grateful that she’d put the strapless bra in the pile, along with her panties. Once she was finished, she looked around the small room for a weapon. Saw the only thing that might work. A minute later, she walked out, her hands together, casually cupped at her belly button.

She crossed in front of him, sat in the chair near the door. His duffel bag was on the floor, near her feet. From this angle she could see that he had an assortment of candy bars and chips on the bed next to him. “Going for a sugar high?” she asked.

“Always.” He tossed her a Hershey’s candy bar. She let it fall in her lap.

“Got these from the vending machine in the office,” he said.

She waited. Where was this going?

“While I was there, two men came in. Squirrelly-looking guys. Lots of black hair and gold jewelry. One guy has a big scar on his face. Other one had a bad knee.”

He was watching her. “Okay,” she said.

“They showed the desk clerk a picture of someone on their phone. Someone, according to the clerk, who was a pretty bride.”

She could feel her stomach clench. “What did the clerk say?”

“Said he didn’t have anybody here that resembled the woman.”

She felt some of the pressure lift off her chest. “They left?”

He nodded. “I suspect they’ll be back. Them and their friends.”

“Friends?”

“The first two left in a black Mercedes but there was a matching vehicle parked toward the back of the lot. It stuck around. I suspect they were waiting to see if the clerk was lying. If he was, it would be a fairly safe assumption that he’d make a mad dash to the person’s room or use his cell phone that appears attached to his hand to put out a warning call. They might have been expecting somebody to quickly exit from one of the rooms.”

“But that didn’t happen,” she said.

“Nope.”

“Did the two men see you?”

“Yes. So I suspect the guys in the second car were also told to watch me. So I drove off, in the opposite direction of the first car. I waited to see if they’d follow me. But they didn’t. They went the same direction as the first car. Probably didn’t want to get split up in this weather.”

“But you came back?” Why? To warn her? Or maybe he’d decided that there might be a way to profit from this unexpected encounter. Maybe he’d considered whether the men might be willing to pay for information on her. “How did you get in?” she asked, feeling very vulnerable.

He held up a plastic key card. “When I first checked in, I asked for two rooms. I thought maybe I’d try to get some sleep before going on to my final destination. That’s when the guy told me that he only had one room with one bed. I told him that I’d take it, that my brother and I would have to sleep together. I laughed it off, said we’d done it as kids, that we could probably do it for one more night. He gave me two keys, one for me and one for my brother.”

She’d seen the hotel clerk shake his head. When she’d asked Cal about it, he’d dismissed it. Just didn’t understand what I was asking for.

“You lied to me earlier,” she said.

He shrugged. “I thought if you knew that I was interested in getting a room that you’d feel compelled to offer to share this one. I didn’t think that would work out so well for you when your new husband showed up.”

She did not have a new husband. At least she didn’t think so.

“You might want to take your wedding gown and veil out of the garbage,” he said, looking in the far corner. “That might not make him feel so great, either.”

She’d stuffed the offensive items into the brown plastic wastebasket. They spilled over the edge.

“You know,” he said, “that’s how I found you. I saw your veil blowing in the wind.”

It was a miracle that he’d been able to see it, especially in white-out conditions. Most people would have driven by, clueless that a woman was freezing to death.

She was getting a sense that Cal Hollister wasn’t most people. “So the hotel clerk thinks there are two men in this room. He doesn’t know about me,” she said.

“Nope. I suppose it’s possible that he saw you get out of the car but I don’t think so. Angle was wrong, plus the guy is obsessed with whatever he has on his phone.”

She was safe. For the meantime. But who were these men? Why would they be chasing after her? She lifted her chin. “I certainly appreciate you letting me know,” she said.

He sat up and frowned at her. “Congrats on being so very civilized and proper. Here’s the thing, though. I don’t think they were here to invite you to tea. So, I don’t think good manners are going to be all that helpful in this situation.”

He wouldn’t think she had a civilized bone in her body if he knew how close she was to losing it, to screaming and kicking the damn bed.

“Why are they looking for you?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Stormy. You can do better than that.”

“I. Don’t. Know. And I don’t know who the men are. In fact, how do I even know that you’re telling the truth?” She tossed her hair and tried not to wince when it hurt her head. “How do I know that you didn’t just want a reason to come back to my room? How do I know that you’re not my biggest worry?”

He stood up. “If I was, you’d already know it for sure. Now, I suggest you start thinking about what you’re going to do when those men come back. I know the type. They won’t want to be bested by a woman. And whoever is paying for those expensive cars isn’t going to be happy that his guys couldn’t get the job done. When they don’t find you up the road, they’ll come back and start turning over rocks. The motel clerk will break in about ten seconds and he’ll be opening every one of the rooms for them to inspect.”

Something told her that he was right. Some past experience.

“How long do you think I have?” she asked.

He shrugged. “They told the desk clerk that you would have arrived within the last hour. So, I think their radius will be anywhere you could have gotten in an hour. On a normal day, that’s seventy miles, give or take. Today, half that at most. Today, they’ll be forced to stick to the main roads. But in a day or less, when this storm dies down, they’ll be able to cover ground much more quickly.”

“How long?” she repeated.

“I think you’ve got eighteen to twenty-four hours. After that, you better be on your game.”

Was she on her game? Not hardly. Something flashed in her head. She shook it, trying to clear it.

“What?” he prodded, maybe thinking that she wasn’t taking the threat seriously.

“You said I needed to be on my game. And all I can think of is Leon Durham.”

“The baseball player?” he asked, as if he really couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah. He played first base. Talented player but unfortunately, there was the time he let a ball roll through his legs.”

“In 1984. Cubs versus Padres,” he said. “Padres went on to win.” He paused. “How the hell do you know these things?”

She had no idea. It was just there.

It was horribly frightening. She had men chasing after her and all she had a grasp on was useless baseball facts. “Well, Mr. Hollister, it appears that I continue to be in your debt.” She looked toward the door, to give him the hint.

“You can start paying up right now,” he said.

What? He couldn’t be suggesting...that, could he? “It’s time for you to leave,” she said more sternly.