Ann Peterson - Accessory To Marriage

Everything always went back to Trent.

…for better or for worse…

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the litany of vows scrolling through her mind. She had to make it to the chapel in time. She had to prevent this travesty from taking place.

Security checks complete, she hurried after Duane. Barred doors slid open in front of them and clanged shut behind. Risa’s heart slammed against her ribs. She wanted to push past Duane and race for the chapel as fast as her feet would carry her. She wanted to grab Dixie and drag her out of this godforsaken place, kicking and screaming if need be.

She wished she could change the past. She wished Dixie wasn’t the needy, vulnerable girl she was. She wished she had never added Kane to her list of case studies. But wishing wouldn’t help Dixie. Only getting her out of this place, away from Kane would do that.

…in sickness and in health…

Finally Duane stopped in front of a plain steel door marked Chapel. “I hope to God you aren’t too late. For your sister’s sake.” He pushed the door open.

Risa squeezed past him and lunged inside.

Her sister stood in the corner of the chapel. Her bleached hair fell to her shoulders in platinum ringlets. At least fifty yards of lace and satin and frothy tulle flourished around her like French creme frosting. Her lipsticked mouth rounded. Her penciled brows arched in surprise. “Risa.”

Risa looked past Dixie and focused on the groom. The man was charming, almost boyish, with an endearing shyness and a down-home smile. Looking at him, one would imagine him to be a kind and gentle man, the perfect husband for a troubled girl like Dixie. But Risa knew differently.

Dryden Kane was a brutal serial killer.

She strode up the aisle toward her sister, toward Kane. Her hands hardened into fists by her sides.

Kane’s ice-blue eyes met hers. A smirk slithered over his thin lips. “Hey, sis. You here to welcome me into the family?”

A cold finger traveled up her spine.

“No?” His smirk grew wider. “Why not? Don’t tell me you’re jealous of your little sister. Do you hear that, Dix? She’s jealous of you.”

Dixie gazed up at him, beaming as if he’d just given her the prize of a lifetime.

Nausea swirled in Risa’s stomach. She wanted to think all men were redeemable. Curable. But looking into Kane’s emotionless blue eyes, she just couldn’t buy it. No, Trent was right. A man like Kane never changed. He manipulated. He terrorized. He killed. But he never changed.

And he’d found just the right ploy to manipulate her sister.

Kane leered down at Dixie as if she were a roasted leg of lamb seasoned just the way he liked. “Face it, sis. Dixie has triumphed where years of psychotherapy failed. Her love has made me a better person. A good person. She’s my soul mate. And you’re too late to change it now. We already said ‘I do.’”

The breath left Risa’s lungs in a whoosh.

Kane raised his eyes to meet hers and lowered one eyelid in a profane wink. “Dixie is my wife—until death do us part.”

Risa stared at the images flashing on the ten-o’clock news. Razor wire glinting in the sun. A fenced compound. An empty cell. The newscaster’s voice thundered in her ears like a death sentence. Her worst fear had become reality. Dryden Kane had escaped from prison.

Dixie.

Her throat constricted. The way Kane had leered at Dixie on their wedding day a month ago pounded at the back of her eyes. His taunting voice echoed through her mind. Until death do us part.

Kane would go straight to Dixie. And once he had his hands on her, he would kill her. Of this Risa had no doubt.

She scrambled to her feet and raced for the kitchen, her robe billowing out behind her. She’d been ready for bed when the terrifying story had come on the news. Now sleep was out of the question. Not until Kane was behind bars. Not until Dixie was safe. She grabbed the phone from the kitchen counter. Fingers shaking, she punched in Dixie’s number.

One ring…two rings…

She clenched the phone so tightly the plastic creaked. “Please, Dixie. Please be there.”

Three rings…four…

She threw down the phone and ran for the foyer, for the staircase leading to her bedroom. She had to get dressed. She had to find her purse, her car keys. She had to reach her sister before Kane did.

Her bare feet slapped the wood floor. She took the narrow steps two at a time, knocking the teddy bears decorating the stairs out of her way as she ran.

The doorbell’s chime echoed through her little bungalow.

She stopped dead at the sound. Her breath caught in her throat. Was it Dixie? The police?

She raced back down the stairs to the front door. She peered through the peephole. Her heart stuttered then seized. Clutching her robe closed with one hand, she unlocked the dead bolt and yanked the door open.

Trent scrutinized her from the darkness, his face all sharp angles and hard planes in the yellow glare of the porch light.

Risa’s heart started again, pumping hard enough to break a rib. She hadn’t seen him in two years, two long years, and she’d never dreamed she would be glad to see him again.

But she was.

His steel-gray gaze skimmed her face. His glower deepened. “You know, don’t you?”

A fresh surge of panic swelled up inside her. There was no time to lose. “I heard it on the news. We have to reach Dixie.”

“Damn. I didn’t want you to find out that way.”

She shook her head with frustration. The way she’d found out wasn’t important. “We have to reach Dixie before Kane does. He’ll kill her. I know he will. We have to hurry. She didn’t answer her phone.”

Trent paused. His gaze drilled into her.

Cold dread penetrated her bones. He knew something. Something she hadn’t seen on the news. Something horrible. She opened her mouth, but her voice wouldn’t work.

Trent reached out and grasped her arm as if preparing her for the blow. “Dixie’s with him,” he said. “We think she helped him escape.”

Risa’s head whirled. Oh God, Kane already had Dixie. He’d duped her into helping him escape, and now he had her. Until death do us part. Risa’s knees wobbled and she felt herself sinking.

Trent pushed his way into her house. Leading her to the antique bench in the foyer, he shoved teddy bears aside and deposited her on it.

Her mind stuttered. She shook her head and struggled against the pressure of his hand, the certainty of his pronouncement. No. It couldn’t be true. If Kane had Dixie, she was as good as dead. “Dixie can’t be dead. She can’t be. She just—”

“Rees.” His sharp baritone cut through her denials. He leaned over her, his face close to hers. “We don’t know that she’s dead. I don’t think she is.”

Her heart leaped at the hope in his words. Trent knew Kane better than anyone. That was why the FBI had sent him here. To find Kane. To save Dixie. “Then we have to find her. Now.” She struggled to stand.

Trent’s grip tightened, keeping her planted on the bench. “We will find her. But first I need you to get dressed. A police officer from Grantsville is on his way to pick you up. You need to go with him to the police station and answer some questions.”

“Grantsville?” Risa recognized the name of the small town a stone’s throw from the prison, but for the life of her, she didn’t see how going to the tiny Grantsville police station was going to do any good. “I don’t have time. We have to find Dixie. We’re running out of—”

“Rees. Look at me.”

She forced her eyes to focus on his face. A face full of strength and confidence and purpose. A face that, until a few minutes ago, she had never wanted to set eyes on again.