Soon the group was headed toward the church for pictures, two and a half hours before the wedding was due to start. Mack was alarmed at the outside photo sessions, but there was nothing he could do but stand by and keep a sharp eye for anything out of the ordinary. While he couldn’t protect her from a long-distance attack, that wasn’t what the FBI had predicted from their forensic analysis of the letter.
“You know what you did, and I’m going to make you pay” was the opening phrase on the chilling page which had arrived in an unmarked envelope.
The agent in charge of the investigation had explained that the verbiage used had made them expect the attack to be up close, as if the person expected to savor the inflicted death to soothe their righteous indignation.
Mack was so uptight, he barely had time to appreciate Mariah in her green dress, which looked nothing like a Christmas tree to him. Though all four bridesmaids muttered about hating the choice, Mack thought Mariah looked better than the other three, probably because she was so tall. She made the form-fitting dress look elegant, and he especially loved the way the side slit exposed her leg when she walked. Though he could only see skin a few inches above her knee, it was the most enticing bit of thigh he’d ever laid eyes on.
Mack claimed leg cramps as the reason he paced in the back of the small church rather than sitting with the other guests where he’d be unable to act if an attacker showed up. Sitting down, any escape might’ve been thwarted by the large number of poinsettias at the end of every pew. The plants were so large and numerous he felt certain the bride’s dress would knock them down like red and green dominos as she walked down the aisle.
He wondered if her father, Vance, had the same thought when the man pulled him aside a short time before the ceremony began, his expression serious.
“Son, I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here,” he began.
Mack kept a straight face, but inside, his heart was racing. Her father must’ve realized he wasn’t Pewter. Or perhaps he’d spotted them sleeping together on the couch during the night.
Vance continued. “I know there’s a gun under your arm, and I’ve seen you watching every person who comes in and out of this place. I have no idea who you work for, but you’re no investment banker.”
At a loss for words, Mack nodded.
“Tell me this… Are my family’s lives in danger?”
Mack considered his answer carefully, opting to answer truthfully, without giving details. “The risk is minimal, but I don’t like to take chances.”
“I assume this has something to do with Mariah’s brother and that lunatic who attacked his wife a month ago. Am I right?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”
“That’s what I thought. Whatever you do, don’t let Nancy find out.” Vance grimaced, glancing over his shoulder where his wife was having a last-minute conversation with the wedding planner. “Pewter… or whatever your name really is… I need to know… Is there any chance some crazy person will come barging into this wedding with a gun?”
Mack lifted his chin. “Not on my watch, sir.”
Vance held him with a steely gaze, then gave a sharp nod. “That’s good enough for me.”
As Vance marched back to his wife, a trickle of sweat ran down Mack’s back. Hopefully his deodorant would last through the end of the day.
After that, the wedding went off with only a few minor disasters. The flower girl dumped all of her poinsettia leaves at the beginning of her walk and broke down into tears when her basket was empty, refusing to take another step. The ring-bearer, on the contrary, raced down the aisle, discarding the cumbersome pillow along the way. Fortunately, the real rings were safely in the possessions of the best man and Mariah, the maid of honor.
Mack had never been much for weddings. They’d always seemed sappy and drawn out to him. But he enjoyed watching Mariah’s face light up as her friend got married. Now that he knew Mariah’s tender heart, she was even more beautiful to him. And even more out of reach. He had nothing to offer her. He was rough and cynical, while she was sweet and innocent. He lacked the sophistication and social graces that came naturally to her and her friends. Even in their short interactions, Allie’s father had recognized him for what he was—a frog in a prince’s clothing.
Mack accepted the fact he could never be with Mariah. But he was prepared to die to ensure she would have a future, though she would spend it with someone else.
Hopefully, not Pewter.
Mariah had a hard time looking at Mack, remembering the image of his bare torso. Not only had his tattoos been beautiful and the stories behind them heart-wrenching, but the well-defined muscles underneath them had taken her breath away. She’d never seen a man with such a massive chest and not an ounce of fat. He made Pewter look like a lanky twelve-year-old. Every fiber of Mack was masculine, from his thick dark hair and beard, to his hard chest and narrow waist, to the tips of his toes, which were no doubt in a size fifteen custom shoe. He made her feel feminine and petite, a first in her thirty-one years.
And who would’ve dreamed she would like his tattoos? She’d always turned up her nose at them, assuming she had nothing in common with the type of person who sought to cover their body with ink. It had seemed so brutal. So barbaric.
But now, her world had turned upside down. The thought of seeing his tattoos again made her mouth water. She found herself wishing she could feel that scratchy, masculine beard on her neck one more time. Why-oh-why had she made him promise not to repeat that heat-inducing kiss? She was an idiot!
Yet, she knew she could never be enough for him. Her life—so easy, so sheltered—hadn’t prepared her to offer anything he could possibly need. No doubt he viewed her as pampered and spoiled, an opinion she would’ve objected to until last night. Even a glimpse of what he’d been through had been enough to shine a light on how carefree her life had been.
One good thing had come from this weekend, though. She’d never met a man who’d held her in such high esteem. Even when he was fighting and teasing with her, he did it with a sense of honor. He treated her as if it were a privilege to be near her. As if she were so special that he was fortunate to gain her attention. Maybe it was something he’d learned in the military… that kind of respect. Or maybe it came from growing up wishing for a mom. Yesterday at dinner, he’d mentioned how he and his brothers used to pretend the dog was their mother, dressing her up in a robe they’d found in the back of their dad’s closet.
Now that she’d experienced his deferential treatment—whatever the reason for it—she would never settle for anything less. Which probably meant she would spend the rest of her life alone…
So be it!
“A penny for your thoughts.” Mack’s voice interrupted her reverie.
“These are worth more than one cent.” She took a drink of water, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush that rose on her cheeks. Dinner was mostly over, and the bride and groom were on the dance floor, as were most of the guests. Only she and Mack remained at the long table reserved for the bridal party.
“I’ve got twenty bucks in my pocket. But for that much, I want more than thoughts,” he said, bobbing his eyebrows. “I want action.”