Secrets In Texas. Carrie Weaver
from drug lords, which further complicates the situation. Hence the DEA interest. It’s a volatile situation to begin with. Add a large cache of weapons, political unrest at Zion’s Gate and reports of Stone’s increasing paranoia and we’ve got a potential bloodbath on our hands.
MATTHEW SUPPRESSED a groan as he glanced around the foyer of the Las Vegas wedding chapel. Tacky was the first word that came to mind. Surreal was the second.
But he stood quietly to the side as Agent Harrison entered with her parents. The man was tall, stately, distinguished. He cupped his wife’s elbow with his hand as his gaze lingered on the woman’s face. She was beautiful, an older, more polished version of her daughter. Her bearing was graceful, the line of her clothes clean yet alluring. And when she turned in his direction, her dark eyes searched his face.
Angel stood on tiptoe to whisper something in her father’s ear.
The older man stiffened and turned toward Matthew. Angel took him by the hand and the three joined him.
“Daddy, this is Matthew, my, um, fiancé.”
Matthew extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“You can save it. I’m aware this isn’t a real wedding.”
The woman at his side made a censuring noise low in her throat.
“Keep your voice down, Daddy,” Angel snapped.
“Princess, it pains me to see you go through another ill-advised wedding, if only on paper.”
Princess? She’d impressed Matthew as more assassin than princess.
“It’ll be fine. Just do your part today. That’s all I ask.”
“I’ll do my part. But I can’t help worrying about you.”
“I know. But you don’t need to. I can take care of myself.”
Matthew observed the interplay with interest. Why was her father so worried? Surely she’d been on assignments just as dangerous. Maybe it wasn’t the mission that bothered him but the wedding, fake though it was.
“I’m Isabella Harrison.” The older woman extended her hand to Matthew. “We are very protective of our daughter.”
He accepted her hand, inhaled her exquisite scent. Intelligence gleamed in her eyes, her carriage screamed old-world class. And the tilt to her head said she’d never accept mistreatment from anyone.
Squeezing Isabella’s hand, he murmured, “With good reason.”
She tilted her head to the side, frowning slightly.
“Angel is a beautiful, unique woman. I assure you I’ll treat your daughter with respect.”
Nodding, she said, “Yes, Matthew, I can see that. How unfortunate the regular rules of etiquette don’t apply to weddings such as these. Otherwise I would welcome you to the family.”
Matthew wasn’t sure how to respond, so he simply said, “Thank you.”
“And is your family here?” Isabella asked.
“No, my mother’s health isn’t good. She sends her regrets.”
Matthew only hoped his mother didn’t learn of his sham marriage. She knew he was visiting Zion’s Gate at the government’s behest but had no idea a bride had been included in the package. Rescuing his sister from the compound would more than make up for his deception.
Isabella patted his arm. “Yes, Angel said something about chemotherapy? I will be sure to light a candle for your mother at Mass.”
“Thank you. She’d like that very much.”
The chapel doors opened and a young, radiant couple brushed past them.
“It looks like it’s our turn,” Angel said, her voice low and tense.
CHAPTER TWO
ANGEL GLANCED AT her watch. They’d been standing near the front of the chapel for what seemed like ages but in reality had only been twenty minutes.
Tucking her hand in the crook of Matthew’s arm, she gazed up into his face with adoration. Fortunately Pastor Elvis wasn’t close enough to hear the content of their conversation. “What’s the holdup?” Angel asked through her fixed smile.
“Only a tiny delay. I asked the pastor’s mother to retrieve something for me.”
“This was supposed to be a quickie wedding,” she whispered.
Shrugging, he placed his hand over hers. “I know this is difficult for you. But please humor me.”
He was extraordinarily calm for a man who had never been married. Even a fake wedding was enough to make most bachelors a little psychotic. Or maybe she was just remembering another man who’d made the leap from bachelorhood to craziness so quickly.
Angel was spared further wedding-day reminiscences as Elvis’s mother bustled in carrying a florist’s box as if it were the Holy Grail. She handed it to Matthew, along with a wad of bills. He accepted the box but pressed the bills into the woman’s pudgy hand.
“That’s too much,” she murmured, and appeared humbled. And this was Vegas, a town where large tips were as prevalent as silicone implants.
“No. It’s just right.” Matthew’s smile was warm. “Would you mind presenting it to my bride? I’m a little nervous and clumsy today.”
“Certainly, dear.” She removed the lid and drew back layers of tissue paper. Sighing, she presented Angel with a single white rose so perfect it brought tears to Angel’s eyes.
The pastor’s mother nodded and blinked. “He’s such a lovely man. You two will be very happy.”
Her words made Angel want to sit down on the floor and cry. Because once upon a time she had believed in happily ever after. Before Kent had twisted their love into a living nightmare.
“It’s time, sweetheart,” Matthew murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead.
“Would you stop being so damn nice.”
The pastor’s mother clucked in disappointment and Angel’s mother stepped closer.
She grasped Angel’s chin. “Are you okay with this, mija?”
For a split second, Angel was tempted to call it off. But her mother had raised her to have courage. Angel wouldn’t turn her back on the women and children at Zion’s Gate.
“Yes, Mama. Very sure.”
“Remember, if you need us, all you have to do is call.”
“Yes, Mama. I will.”
She turned to Matthew. “Take good care of her, Matthew.”
Matthew’s eyes widened a fraction. He had to realize there was a threat in her words. Whether their marriage was real or not, Isabella expected much from her son-in-law.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her mother patted his cheek as she walked by. “Good. We are of like minds, I think.”
“Yes, we are.” Matthew nodded to the pastor. “We’re ready to begin.”
Those had to be the scariest words Angel had ever heard. Because his voice held a timbre of finality that told her she was in way over her head.
Pastor Elvis stepped forward and cleared his throat, which had his mother scurrying to the boom box to start “Love Me Tender.”
But there was no need for a bridal march. The bride was already in position. Her father wouldn’t walk her down the aisle. He had guilt-ridden memories of giving her away to Kent. Instead Angel’s mother took her husband’s arm and led him to the first row of chairs.
The awkward