Love is Murder (40 page)

“Matthew,” he said. “Is he following us?”

“Not yet.” Ray made a turn and hit a bump. Turned again and was on smooth pavement. “He’s still looking for you.” Ray glanced again into his rearview. “Which St. Andrew’s?”

There was more than one? He hadn’t been in Florida that long. “Highway 98.”

“That’s my church,” the man said. “You marrying Sara English?”

Matthew thought hard.
Was he? Did he dare?
“Two o’clock.”

“Best move it then. Don’t want to leave that sweet one waiting at the altar.”

Matthew’s face went hot. Under the circumstances, that would probably be the greatest kindness he could do for her.

Every atom in his body rebelled. He wanted her, a family of his own. He’d waited for this day his whole life. He couldn’t just walk away. He…couldn’t.

The phone vibrated at his hip. Matthew checked the number. His boss. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Still have my head.” Not many who went up against the cartel did. “Slight interception incident.”

“Fatalities?”

“No.”

“Glad to hear it.” He sighed. “The labs are back.”

Matthew checked the side mirror. No signs of the limo. “And?” He knew, but he had to hear it confirmed.

“Cyanide.” He paused, hesitant. “It was in the champagne, Matt.”

“No.” His chest went tight. He was the target. Uncle Paul was dead, and it was his fault. Guilt swarmed, settled in and suffocated him. He coughed.

“Look, I’m sorry. If I could change it, I would, and I know you would. Neither of us can. All I can do is be straight with you. You’re in too deep, Matt. You’ve got to take the meeting with the drug cartel personally. Otherwise, this whole operation blows up in our faces, and we both know what that means.”

The cartel had identified him as an agent. Either it got him or it would do exactly what it swore it would do. Release biological contaminants in multiple locations at once and destroy the entire city. But which one? Destin, Fort Walton Beach, Pensacola. Regardless, it had the means and will to attack, and because it would, a hundred thousand people, maybe more, would be going about their lives just as they did every day, only this day, they’d die.

It also meant that word had come down from on high to his boss. Matthew was the designated sacrificial lamb. If things went south, the agency and brass would be covered. Matthew, who’d argued vehemently against this operation from the start, would be tagged with the blame. And that meant the question confronting Matt had changed. Now it was who would kill him first?

The cartel, or his own?

* * *

Sara stood before the full-length mirror in the church’s bridal room, her heart pounding. Her mother and Angela fluffed her dress, adjusted her veil for the twentieth time, and all she could think about was that in minutes—mere minutes—she was going to marry the man she’d loved for three years.

“Matthew’s eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees you in that dress.”

Sara smiled. “I hope not.”

“What?” Angela looked perplexed.

“His eyes are distinct—the first thing I noticed about him. I hope they stay put in their sockets.”

“She’s being ridiculous.” Her mother slapped the air with a dismissive hand. “You do look lovely, Sara.”

“Thank you.” She was well pleased. The dress was simple, classic, beautiful, and it fit. That was the best news. All her nightmares of a zipper trying to cinch an extra inch gap were over. She let out a relieved sigh.

“Matthew!” Angela squealed. “What are you doing here? You can’t see the bride before the ceremony, it’s bad lu— What on earth has happened to you?”

“Sara, I need to talk to you,” he said, trying to skirt around the maid of honor bent on blocking him. “It’s important.”

Her mother took serious objection. “Absolutely not. I don’t know what happened to you, but we’ll deal with it after the wedding. I’ve worked a year on this and with your uncle there’s been enough upset already. Now close your eyes, turn around and get up to the front of the church where you belong.”

“Sara,” he insisted. “Please. It’s important.”

It had to be bad news. His face was drawn in unholy gloom. “Mother, Angela, excuse us.”

“But—”

“Go. Can’t you see something is wrong, Angela?” Sara waved them out. “Please, take Mom and go wait in the hallway.”

The women went, but not without her mother shooting worried daggers at Matthew and Sara. “You will change your clothes, won’t you? I mean, you’re all right now and you won’t go up there to marry my daughter in tatters, will you?”

“Ignore her,” Sara told him. “What’s wrong?” His tux was in tatters. There must have been another incident. After the last one, he’d warned her danger came with his job. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” He stepped over to her, clasped her hands and let her see the truth in his eyes. “I want to marry you more than anything. I love you, Sara. I’ll always love you.”

“I love you, too.” Definitely bad news. It was in his eyes, in his cracking tone. “This feels like goodbye.”

“It is, sweetheart.” His gray eyes glossed. He blinked hard. “I have an assignment. I can stay here and marry you or take the assignment.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“No.” He licked at his lips, holding her gaze. “I can’t explain specifics—you know that. But if I don’t go, a lot of people are going to die. If I stay, odds are good you’ll be one of them.”

She stiffened. “It’s that dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“Will you survive?” She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. Of course she had to know.

“It’s doubtful, sweetheart.” Pain flashed across his face. “I’m so sorry. The potential for trouble is always present, but we have fail-safe measures in place. Layers of them. Unfortunately, this time, they all failed. If I’d considered that possible…I wouldn’t have put you in this position. I didn’t. No one did.”

“Marry me, then.” She choked back tears. “If you could die, it’s the only way I’ll know what happens to you.”

“You’ll know.” He stroked her arms. “I’ve taken care of that—promise.”

She’d fought the battle to restrain her emotions but lost. Tears slipped down her face and she threw every reasonable objection she could think of at him, then started a litany of unreasonable ones. “Don’t do this.”

“If I don’t, who will?”

“I don’t know.” She sobbed, her heart shattering. “I don’t care.”

“You care, Sara.” He dragged a thumb over her face along the line of her jaw. “It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

“I love you, too.” She stood right beside him, yet sensed him already pulling away. “I’ll always love you.”

“Me, too.” He pulled her close and kissed her hard, letting her feel the love that burned in his heart deeper than death. Pulling back, he said, “I have to go.”

“Matthew, wait. Please.” Tears streamed down her face. “If you…make it, when will you be back?”

“Three days, maybe four. No more than that.”

She hugged him tightly, then looked up into his face. “I’ll be waiting. No matter how long it takes.”

His eyes shined overly bright. “I’m one lucky man.”

“Stay that way.” She swallowed hard. “Come home to me, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.” He turned and left the bridal room.

Sara held it together until the door clicked closed. Then her knees folded. In a heap on the marble floor, she prayed hard.
I’ve never asked for anything. Not in my whole life. But I’m asking now. I’m begging. Keep him safe. Bring him back to me. Please…

A heavy feeling settled in her chest. Dread and fear blanketed it. The darkest, most bleak fear she’d ever experienced. Shunning it, she denied it any place.
No. No, that’s doubt. That’s not real, it’s doubt.

He’d be back. Three days, four at most. He would be back… .

* * *

On the third day, Sara received official notification from sober-faced uniformed authorities.

On the fourth, Matthew returned in a casket that would not be opened. He’d been shot seventeen times at point-blank range, identified by his DNA. The assailants eluded capture.

On day seven, Sara stood in the cemetery next to an ancient oak and buried him beside where she’d buried his uncle Paul. Certain she had run out of tears, she cried anyway. Anger at Matthew for dying and leaving her to battle with the devastation and knowing she’d never again see him. Never again feel his kiss, his arms around her. Never again see that special look he reserved just for her shining in his distinct eyes.

There was only one grave on the right side of his—a woman’s. Sara wondered about her. Was she loved? Did she leave someone behind? Had she loved some man enough in her time with him to last him a lifetime?

The service went on. Sara separated, present yet apart from herself, lost behind her black net veil in memories of the first time she and Matthew had met. Chen’s Chinese restaurant was crowded and he’d invited her to share his table. She’d taken one look into his eyes and seen something remarkable. Something she’d never before or since seen in any man’s eyes. It wasn’t a twinkle, it was more significant than that, though she still couldn’t describe it—and felt she probably wouldn’t be able to when she was old and gray. But oh, she’d felt its magic—she still felt it. The look in his eyes had touched her soul and captivated her. Totally, completely and irrevocably.

Love at first sight. What a miracle. And wonder of wonders, it’d been that way for Matthew, too. A fresh wave of tears rolled from deep inside, burned the back of her nose, stung her eyes. She’d loved him well. He’d loved her well. Maybe one day she’d find peace in that. But not today. Today, there was no peace.

She pulled in a shuddery breath. That kind of love happens to a woman only once, if it happens at all. She was a lucky one. She’d known it. And though she’d never know the feeling again, she’d spend the rest of her life knowing exactly what she was missing. That was both blessing and curse, but she couldn’t regret it. She’d never regret it…or stop mourning its loss.

The minister’s voice claimed her attention. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”

* * *

Sara stooped down and pulled stray weeds from Matthew’s grave.

Happy anniversary, honey.
One day bled into another and another and turned into months, and now two years had passed.
Where’d they go?
A tear dripped from the corner of her eye down her face and splashed onto the grass. She placed the fresh flowers near his headstone and began their Sunday-afternoon chat. “I landed the Kramer account,” she told him. “It’ll subsidize the firm for the next five years all on its own.” She snagged a drooping green leaf with her thumbnail. Matthew had loved her talking about her marketing ventures. He’d been such a good listener… .

Movement caught the corner of her eye. Startled, she jumped.

“I’m sorry.” A man stood before the woman’s headstone.

Sara had seen him from a distance for months. He too visited the graveyard every Sunday afternoon. The woman buried at Matthew’s right had died seven years ago, and from this man’s dedication, she had indeed loved him enough. That comforted Sara. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” She’d wondered where he was today; he was typically already here when she arrived.

He walked toward her. “Has it started yet?”

Sara stood up. “What?”

“Everyone telling you it’s way past time you moved on?”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled, bittersweet. “They just don’t understand.” Seven years for him; he understood. She dusted her hands. He had brought the woman yellow carnations today. Daisies, carnations, irises, but never roses. Odd…

“What do you say to them?” he asked.

Whether looking for something that could be of use to him or gauging her feelings to compare to his own, she didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. Talking to a stranger was easier than talking to a friend about this—especially a stranger who had been through it. “Mostly just to leave me alone. It takes what it takes.” Sara’s purse slipped off her shoulder. Why wouldn’t he look at her? He kept his gaze fixed on the woman’s grave. Shadows from the afternoon sun slanted across his jaw and chest. “When you love someone with your whole heart, you don’t stop loving them because they died. The love stays with you.” She shrugged. “They don’t understand that.”

“I do.” He turned and looked directly at her.

The twinkle.
Sara bit down a gasp. How could it be? His face— totally different. Surgery? Why—the job. The men who’d shot him…Protection. She checked again. The twinkle remained.
Matthew!
Why hadn’t he let her know? Her protection.

Angry? Happy? Feeling both, she wasn’t sure what to do or say—and then she understood. He should stay away from her but couldn’t. She extended her hand, buying herself time to tamp her emotions, certain if she revealed knowing him, he’d walk away and she’d never see him again. Why so certain of that, she didn’t know, but the instinctive nudge rammed her like a shove so she heeded it. “I’m Sara English.”

“Adam Davis.” He clasped her hand and shook.

The voice.
The voice…the eyes…definitely her Matthew!
Her heart soared and the pain of grief, such a heavy part of her for two years, vanished and fell under a surging wave of joy. Sara smiled.

Adam smiled back, and his stomach growled. “Sorry, I missed lunch.”

“I was about to go for Chinese.” She squeezed his hand, released it. “Would you care to share my table?”

Relief washed over his new face. She recognized him, eyes to eyes and heart to heart, and now he knew it. His tone dropped, deep and husky. “I’d love to, Sara.”

She linked their arms, and together they walked out of the cemetery and into their future.

* * * * *

THE HONEYMOON

Julie Kenner

On Elizabeth and Tom’s honeymoon, things don’t simply go bad. They go really, really bad. Brace yourself for several jolts. ~SB

“There,” Elizabeth said. “That’s the cutoff to Balmorhea, and—oh, shit. Now you’ve passed it. Turn around, Tom. We need to go back.”

Tom kept his hands at the ten- and two-o’clock positions. “Balmorhea’s off the highway. We’d have to go out of our way. The interstate goes right through Van Horn.”