Carla Cassidy - Interrogating The Bride

She frowned, the gesture tugging her dark, perfectly formed eyebrows closer together on her forehead. “I look really guilty,” she said more to herself than to him. “I snuck out of a window and ran. Whoever killed him probably did it while I was hiding in the plane, which means I have no alibi.” She caught her full bottom lip in her teeth. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Make up your mind quickly because we need to get out of here,” he said tersely.

“Maybe I should come with you until we know more about what happened.”

He could tell it was a decision she didn’t feel comfortable with, but it obviously beat an arrest for murder. “Then let’s do it,” he replied.

He left the plane and waited impatiently for her to climb down from the passenger side, the wedding gown hampering her movements. The gown fit her small-framed body perfectly, hugging her slender waist and accentuating the thrust of her breasts against the lacy material. She would have made a beautiful bride.

He had no idea if she was guilty or not. Her story had been far-fetched, but her shock when he’d told her Jason was dead had looked very real.

When she had her feet on the ground they left the hangar and he closed the door and secured the lock before turning to look toward the nearby parking area. His car was there, but he headed toward Luke’s sleek sports car, which was parked next to it.

Luke had warned him that it was possible the police would be looking for him, too, and that it might be dangerous for him to be in his own car. How on earth had a simple operation gone so wrong?

As he slid behind the steering wheel, Caylee got into the passenger seat, the gown threatening to engulf her in the narrow seat. Beneath the floor mat he found the keys, just where Luke had said they would be.

He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Caylee was silent until they were on the highway heading north of the downtown district.

“My apartment is in this direction. I live in the Rockport Apartments. It’s a nice place, has a great pool and clubhouse, although I almost never use them because I spend such long hours at the store,” she said.

Terrific, not only were things seriously messed up at the moment, he was now trapped in a car with a chatterbox. He cast her a quick glance. She stared out the front window, her pretty features strained as her hands folded and unfolded in her lap.

He could smell the scent of her, a pleasant, slightly exotic fragrance. He hadn’t noticed it in the plane but he noticed it now. He gripped the steering wheel more firmly, realizing his hot date with Heidi was probably off.

“This trip with Jason was the first vacation I’ve taken in five years,” she continued. “I can’t believe he’s dead. Maybe your partner is wrong. Maybe this is all just a terrible mistake.” There was more than a little bit of hope in her voice.

“We’ll know soon enough,” he replied, wishing she’d be quiet for just a minute so he could think. He had a bad feeling in his gut. What should have been a simple mission had suddenly become much more complicated. If Jason Worthington was really dead, then he and Caylee Warren were definitely in trouble.

“Why does your company have a safe house?” she asked.

“Because we occasionally need one.” There was no reason for her to know that there were times when Recovery Inc. worked for the government and needed a place to stash a witness or a person in trouble.

He hoped that within the next hour or two she’d go back to her life and he’d go back to his. He had a workout scheduled at the gym in the morning and he wouldn’t mind keeping his date with Heidi.

But there was no question that he wasn’t feeling good about this whole mess. A lump of uneasiness sat heavy in the pit of his stomach.

He knew without doubt that she was in trouble, but he had a feeling he was deep in the muck as well. He knew there had been surveillance cameras on the ferry and even though he’d tried to stay away from them, he couldn’t be sure how successful he’d been.

There was nothing Chief Wendall Kincaid of the Kansas City Police force would like more than to have a reason to arrest Micah. He’d once slept with the chief’s sister, but had made the mistake of not proposing marriage. God help him from women who had the Wedding March and a biological clock resounding inside them.

He glanced over at Caylee, who appeared to be growing more nervous with each passing mile. She’d stopped folding and unfolding her hands in her lap and now twisted a strand of her hair around one of her fingers.

She sat up straighter in the seat as he turned off the highway and onto a gravel road lined by tall trees.

They had left the city behind and her nervous tension was palpable in the small car as she cast him furtive glances.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not taking you out in the woods to hurt you. The house is an old farmhouse on twenty acres of land.”

“That’s good because I wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.” She eyed him with another lift of her chin, then sighed. “I just feel like I’ve had enough weirdness to last me an entire lifetime.”

He didn’t know what she was talking about, but he’d certainly categorize finding a bride hiding in the back of a plane right up there on the weird scale.

He released his own sigh as the farmhouse came into view. Majestic oaks flanked the one-story, three-bedroom house, their thick foliage blocking out the moonlight. Lights blazed from the place, and he saw that Troy’s car was parked in front.

Good. Both his partners were there. Surely this whole mess could be sorted out in a matter of minutes. He parked next to Troy’s car, then doused the lights and unbuckled his seat belt.

Within a couple of hours dawn would break. The long night was beginning to weigh heavy on him. He looked at the woman seated next to him. She really was quite pretty with her heart-shaped face and bright green eyes. But any woman who would buy what Jason Worthington was selling obviously wasn’t too bright or was a gold digger with an eye to the Worthington fortune.

As he got out of the car, she fought the ridiculous dress and managed to escape the confines of the car as well. The night air was just as hot, just as humid here as it had been in Louisiana.

“I’m sure this is all just a terrible mistake of some kind,” she said again, looking up at him as they headed for the front door.

“We’ll know soon enough.” He opened the door and ushered her inside. The large living room was decorated like an impersonal hotel suite. The beige sofa was flanked by glass-topped end tables, a coffee table and a matching overstuffed chair set off to one side. An entertainment center held a television, a DVD player and several dog-eared paperback novels.

Caylee followed close behind him, thankfully close-lipped for the moment. He headed for the kitchen where he could hear voices. Troy and Luke would have the most up-to-date news out of Fortuna.

As he entered the kitchen both men stared in his direction. They weren’t looking at him but rather over his shoulder to the petite Caylee in her wedding finery.

“Oh man, we’re in serious trouble here,” Troy said softly, his words tightening the ball of uneasiness in the pit of Micah’s stomach.

CAYLEE DIDN’T know what she found more intimidating, being the only woman in the company of men who looked fit enough to take on an entire army all by themselves or the tall blonde’s words as he gazed at her.

Micah ushered her into a chair at the table as he made the introductions. Troy Sinclair was an inch or so shorter than Micah who she figured stood at least six foot two. His blond hair was cut short and his eyes were the cool gray of a cloudy day. He was dressed in a crisp, white shirt and a pair of charcoal slacks. A suit jacket hung over the back of his chair.