Vowing Love Page 4

  And, Jesus, between the remaining alcohol in his system and the hangover, it was like a double-whammy frying his brain. Holy hell, the woman had gone off her fucking rocker.

  Which only made Reid wonder what went on in a marriage that pushed a woman to this.

  He gripped the coat rack, ready to toss it at her. The needle would jerk clear out of his arm, but that was the least of his problems.

  “Don’t try it,” she said.

  She brought the gun up higher, aimed it center mass. The look in her eyes, that focused sharpness he’d seen plenty of times in his teammates, scared the shit out of him.

  He let go of the pole.

  One helluva wedding day so far. His intended bride pissed at him and, now, a friend’s wife holding him at gunpoint. What. The. Fuck?

  His alcohol addled brain churned. Keep her talking. Get away from the house. If he could draw her away, he’d get that weapon out of her hands. If he wanted to, he could overpower her. No question.

  One blow and she’d be lights out.

  But this was the wife of his teammate. They had two little kids.

  Focus.

  Impaired body or not, nothing set a man straight like a pointed weapon.

  “Okay,” he said. “I get it. Believe me, I do. I was gone all the time. I didn’t have a wife and kids, but I had a mother and siblings who gave me shit constantly. Now that I’m home, I understand it. Mac screwed up last night. In fact, we told him that when he woke up.”

  Whatever she expected him to say, that wasn’t it. She cocked her head and studied him with curious blue eyes. “You did?”

  “We did. Gage told him you had a right to be mad.”

  The hum of an engine alerted her and she slid sideways, coming closer to Reid and tucking the gun behind her hip. Grif’s tricked-out minivan came into view from the side of the house.

  Jesus. Please, let him keep driving.

  Grif rolled to a stop in front. Dammit. Just once could one of his brothers drive on by without having to chit-chat? A bunch of damned women, they were.

  Psycho Rachael put her back to the road and shoved the gun straight into Reid’s belly. The press of the barrel fired his nerves, locking up his shoulders. He needed to stay calm. He’d seen enough battles in his military career to know how to do that, but this? In front of his mother’s house? This was new.

  Adding his brother to the mix turned it into a class A goatfuck.

  Rachael pushed the gun against him. “Who is that?”

  Ratcheting up this situation with a second hostage wouldn’t help anyone. Reid needed to get rid of Grif and talk this woman down. “It’s my brother. He’s on his way home to his kids, Aubrey and Stella. Two smart, pretty girls. Rachael, please, let him go.”

  For a few seconds, she glowered at him, her face all pinched up. No wonder Mac was miserable.

  “Don’t make this worse,” Reid said.

  Come on, come on.

  She jerked her head toward the van. “Get rid of him.”

  Thank you. He blew out a hard breath, let relief unbunch his tight shoulders. “Don’t panic. I’m gonna talk to him. Okay?”

  Couldn’t hurt to ask.

  The seconds ticked away. The longer he let her think, the worse this would get. “Believe me, we don’t want anyone else involved. We’ll find Mac and straighten this out. It’s just you and me right now. You start adding my family and we’re fucked.”

  She lowered the gun, keeping it hidden from Grif. “Go. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Reid latched onto the coat rack and took three steps toward the long driveway. Rachael fell into step behind him, keeping the gun tucked behind her.

  “That’s far enough,” she said.

  Grif lowered the window, pointed at the coat rack, and laughed. “Only you. Brynne is sending me home while she deals with Mom and Liz. They probably won’t kill each other. Brynne’s got it under control. You, on the other hand? They’re all ready to kill you.”

  Considering the psycho behind him, they weren’t the only ones.

  Grif glanced at Rachael standing a few feet away. He gave her his showman smile, the one he used with the media when trying to save a client’s ass. “Morning,” he called.

  Smile still in place, he came back to Reid. “Mac’s wife?”

  Reid angled back and Rachael took a step closer. He needed to be quick here so he faced Grif again. “Call Maggie and—”

  “Reid,” Rachael said, “hurry up.”

  Grif’s smile faded. “Whoa. Someone’s not happy. What’s that about?”

  She closed the distance between them. Dammit, too close. If she started firing, they’d both be dead.

  Reid pressed his fingers into his forehead, willed the pressure away. The fluids helped but not fast enough. “She’s looking for Mac. Go home.”

  “What were you going to say about Maggie?”

  If they called their cousin, the sheriff, she’d show up here with SWAT. Did he want that? To risk this thing escalating when he probably had more training in talking people down than Maggie’s best negotiator?

  No. Brynne would get her wedding day—without a visit from SWAT.

  “Reid, what about Maggie?”

  “Forget it. It’s not important. I’ll call her myself.”

  “You sure?”

  “I am.”

  “All right. Call if you need something. We’ll be back in a few hours. Big day today.”

  The weight, the absolute insanity of the situation assailed Reid. They all could die.

  On his goddamned wedding day.

  “Go home,” Reid said to Grif.

  When the window began its ascent, Reid focused on his older brother. Over the years, they’d fought like rabid animals. They’d also bailed each other out of endless jams. It could all end today.

  “Grif?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks. For everything. I love you.”

  Grif snorted. “Man, that moonshine is screwing with you. You’re turning into a pussy.” He waved one hand. “Yeah, love you, too, little brother.”

  With that, Grif drove off, leaving Reid standing in the grass wondering if he’d see him again.

  This won’t be it.

  Not like this. Not on his wedding day. He’d get that gun out of Rachael’s hands. One way or another.

  He turned back to Rachael. “What now?”

  “We’re going inside. And then we’re calling Mac.”

  “No.”

  She glanced at Grif’s car, now turning onto the road. Once he cleared her view, she brought the gun up. Aimed it straight at Reid’s chest. “Do you really want to test me?”

  No, he didn’t. But he wasn’t about to let her into the house. Not with everyone he loved in there.

  “You can shoot me right here if you want, but we’re not going inside.” He pointed to the training center across the expanse of the field. “Let’s go to my office. No one is there today. We’ll figure this thing out.”

  * * *

  Brynne stood in front of the closet door in Jonah’s old room staring at her wedding gown. Rather than hang it inside the closet and risk it wrinkling, she’d hooked the hanger over the top, allowing the train to drape.

  Custom made by an up-and-coming designer she’d met at New York Fashion Week, Brynne had broken the bank buying it. The lace-embellished crepe sheath was not only a treat to herself, but to Reid as well. He had a thing for her curves and this number stuck to every one of them. Her willingness to showcase her body, after years of paralyzing self-consciousness, shocked even her. But that was the magic of Reid Steele. When he looked at her, she left the chubby girl of her teens behind. A gift like no other.

  For months, she’d fantasized about the look on his face when he saw her moving down the aisle in the clingy gown. Of all people, he’d understand how far she’d come. That, after spending years choosing clothing to hide certain parts of her body—her semi-giant ass for one— she’d bought a gown that left, as her mother woul
d say, nothing to the imagination.

  Now, who knew if he’d be in decent enough shape to even appreciate it.

  She squeezed her eyes closed.

  No.

  She wouldn’t dwell on the negative start to the day. But he’d blown it. Royally. And with the way gossip ran through Steele Ridge, by the time the ceremony rolled around, the entire town would know that he’d had to get loaded before marrying her.

  Excellent.

  “Well,” she muttered, “what’s done is done.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time folks gossiped about Reid. Particularly when it came to her bagging the hard-to-tame King of Eligible Bachelors.

  Enough. He’d screwed up. So what? She turned, letting out a frustrated huff as she walked to the window and threw open the drapes. A little sunshine would brighten her mood.

  Acres of deep green grass and giant oak trees bursting with leaves softened the view of the training center just down the drive. Reid spent the bulk of his time there, building a business he’d, in the beginning, resented. When he first returned from the Army, he viewed his brother Jonah’s idea of a law enforcement training center as a cage that would keep him locked down. He’d admitted it to her. Told Brynne flat out that, if not for falling in love with her, he’d be gone. Traveling the world, searching for the adrenaline rush the military no longer provided.

  Before today, she’d considered it the ultimate compliment. But after seeing him hungover and hooked to an IV before their wedding?

  She might be the lock on his cage.

  Don’t go there.

  Reid came into view, his big body lumbering toward the training center as he carried that damned coat rack. Brynne instantly recognized the tall blonde beside him. The night before, upon meeting Reid’s various out-of-town friends and their significant others, she’d created word games that helped her remember who belonged to whom. She didn’t need word association for this one. Rachael MacKenzie was everything Brynne always wanted to be.

  Tall.

  Blonde.

  Thin.

  Brynne’s blood pressure roared, the tension shooting straight up her neck. Here was her soon-to-husband, half-intoxicated and walking alone with a beautiful blonde after Brynne told him to go to the bunkhouse and sleep it off. As soon as one of the florist’s employees saw him, the gossip machine would go to fourth gear.

  How much humiliation did he expect her to deal with on their wedding day?

  No, sir.

  Now she was done messing around. From the second she’d seen him with that IV, she’d tried to keep peace. Now?

  Done. Done. Done.

  For once, he’d do it her way.

  She pulled her phone from her back pocket, dialed him and watched as he checked his phone’s screen and…

  Swiped her.

  Her jaw dropped. Absolutely plunged.

  “Nuh-uh, big fella. Now I’m pissed.”

  She spun from the window. If she hurried, she’d catch up to them. She charged down the creaking staircase, the stomp-stomp-stomp of her anger evident with each step.

  Before she got to the bottom, her mother appeared. “I was just coming to check on you.”

  Brynne breezed by and opened the door. “I’m fine.”

  “With all that stomping? You don’t sound it.”

  Her mother had no idea. And it would stay that way. “Wait here, please.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To talk to Reid.”

  She glanced back, found Mom already in motion. Her mother, being her mother, sometimes needed reminders. Brynne whirled back and raised a hand. “I’ll say it again. In case you didn’t catch it the first time. Wait here.”

  Never had she’d spoken to her mother that way, but, well, a girl had a right to certain things on her wedding day. So far only the weather had gone right.

  Mom halted. Huh. Who knew it would be so easy to keep her from interfering?

  “Thank you.”

  Before Mom could comment, Brynne scooted out, closing the door behind her. She hopped down the steps and did a little walking-jog in an attempt to catch Reid and Rachael. Her blinged-out bride flip-flops weren’t making it an easy jaunt.

  “Reid Sullivan Steele!”

  Lord, she sounded like Miss Joan. Her shout, however, carried and got her man’s attention. He paused, stopping midway between the house and training center. She kept moving, her gaze pinned to Reid and Rachael as they exchanged words.

  “Babe,” Reid called. “Go back to the house. I’ll be there in a few. Gotta help Rachael with something.”

  He had to be joking. Everyone in this damned town knew Reid had a hero complex but he wanted to play savior today?

  No, sir. Not happening. Gobsmacked, Brynne kept walking.

  “Please, Brynne. Back to the house.”

  Nope. He could shove that suggestion right up his swoonworthy butt. The minute she got close enough, she’d give Rachael a piece of her mind. How dare this woman ask for his help now. What could be so important that one of the other Army buddies couldn’t take care of it?

  She drew closer, still watching as Reid said something to Rachael, the two of them squared off in the middle of the grass.

  “Brynne!”

  The mad voice. If he thought that would scare her off, he could think again.

  “No, Reid. I want to know what the hell you’re doing. God! You infuriate me sometimes.”

  “Honey—”

  “And don’t honey me. You need to get some sleep.”

  Twenty yards ahead, he took a step toward her. Rachael’s hand shot out, holding him back. Oh, sister, you’d better get your hands off my man.

  “It’s my damned wedding day,” Brynne grumbled as she approached them. “And I’m dealing with a drunk fiancé and a beautiful blonde.”

  How was that fair? Her very own personal form of hell.

  Just ahead, Reid gave her his stubborn glare, his head inching back and forth.

  Odd that. Reid had a mouth on him. Everyone knew it and he didn’t bother to hide it. When unhappy, half the universe knew. Subtlety had never been his forte.

  Beside him, Rachael’s lips spread into a toothy fake smile.

  A guilty smile.

  Why was this woman snuggled right up against him? Brynne’s mind whipped. Gorgeous Reid Steele, a beautiful blonde. The two of them walking off together to a building where, today, they’d be alone. Panic, followed by the piercing pain of old wounds ripping open, hit her. Her first husband had cheated on her. And he wasn’t half the man Reid was.

  She hadn’t been enough for her ex, how could she ever be enough for Reid?

  Brynne’s legs nearly came out from under her. Get it together. He wouldn’t do this to her. Getting drunk was one thing. Cheating? He wouldn’t.

  Whatever this was, he’d explain it.

  She pushed her shoulders back, forced her feet to keep moving, and closed the last few yards between them.

  “Brynne, please,” he said, his voice nearly cracking. “Go back.”

  “Hi, Brynne,” Rachael chirped. “Welcome to the party.”

  Party? Rachael slid sideways, pulling her arm from behind Reid.

  And pointing a gun.

  5

  Why the hell did the woman he fell for have to be so headstrong?

  Reid’s plan of getting Rachael away from the house did not—repeat, did not—include Brynne deciding to go alpha on his ass.

  He gripped the damned IV pole so tight he popped a knuckle. “Did you not think there was a reason I didn’t want you following us?”

  For a few seconds all she did was stare at the weapon in Rachael’s hand. He angled sideways, sliding in front of Brynne in case Rachael went full-psycho and took a shot. A vision of Brynne on the ground, blood pouring from her chest assailed him. Son of a bitch.

  Stay calm. He let out a silent breath, focused on next steps.

  Brynne was in it now. Okay. He’d deal with that.

  Brynne first.


  Always.

  Letting go, he lifted both hands. “Rachael, please, lower that. Didn’t I say we’d figure this out? If you start waving that around, it could go off and escalate this to a whole other level.”

  Behind him, Brynne’s head came to rest on his back. How many times had she done that? Walked up behind him, wrapped him in her arms, and rested her head against him. Thousands. It had become…a thing. Part of their love language, she’d said. Whatever the hell that was.

  “Wwww…what…” Brynne said, then paused. “I…don’t understand.”

  Rachael scoffed. “Well, honey, neither do I.”

  “She’s pissed at Mac,” Reid said. “We’re working it out.”

  Rachael inched the weapon down and jerked her head toward the building. “Both of you, let’s go. Before you even try it, Reid, she’s coming with us. The more the merrier.”

  Still behind him, Brynne lifted her head, breaking contact and leaving Reid wanting to grab hold and shield her from the bitch holding them at gunpoint. On their goddamned wedding day. He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But—”

  “Ssshhh. We’ll be fine.”

  He half-turned and hooked his free arm around her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head, inhaled the familiar citrus scent of her shampoo, and his chest cracked. He could lose everything today.

  Not happening.

  Whatever it took, he’d get Brynne out of this.

  Rachael waved the gun. “Let’s go. Move it, lovebirds.”

  He reached for the coat rack, scooped it up, and, arm-in-arm with Brynne, started walking.

  At the training center entrance, he checked his pockets. No keys. Where the hell had he left them? In his previously hammered state, God only knew where they’d landed.

  Plan B. He punched in the code and opened the door. A beep-beep sounded.

  Rachael shoved the gun into his back. “What’s that?”

  “Relax. It’s the door alert. It goes off whenever it opens.”